Chapter 4 Aisling
Aisling had no idea what she’d expected when Brook appeared in the wee hours, hair wild and eyes wide like she’d just been frightened out of sleep. But it most certainly had not been, “Would you ever consent to a fake engagement, Aisling?”
At first, Aisling felt a spike of disappointment. A fake engagement? After she’d tossed and turned last night, thinking of Brook’s kiss and the warm sensation it bloomed low in her belly; after she’d had to take care of the longing ache it left between her legs to get any sleep at all last night…
Aisling swallowed her initial urge to demand an explanation. She made herself turn her back on Brook and pop into the lower deck of the oven to check on the filling for today’s Copperford pies. It bubbled away merrily, nearly finished.
But Brook, leaning against the counter and watching Aisling work, said nothing more for long moments.
When Aisling finally calmed herself, she asked, voice tight, “What, exactly, would that entail? And why?”
“Well, to get my parents—my mother, really, to leave me alone,” Brook said quickly, almost too quickly to be fully understood. “I know we only just met, but it doesn’t need to mean anything—”
Aisling couldn’t help shooting her a sharp look.
Brook’s dark cheeks reddened, so at least she had that much grace. “Or it could! I do like you—or I wouldn’t ask. Just, I need to bring someone to the Gearwick cultural dance—”
“Or you could tell your mother you don’t want to be married,” Aisling cut in.
Brook held up both hands. “I promise, I will after this year. I’ve been avoiding it, but if I can just get back to Emberleigh—I can find something to do with my magic, or any employment, really, and beg off. But while I live under their roof…”
Aisling wrinkled up her nose. “I don’t know that…”
Although.
If Aisling told her family she was engaged to an Emberleigh elf of royal blood, they’d surely be impressed.
Not so much by the blood but by the influence and money it could bring—potentially even more than Minala’s family.
The idea gave Aisling a little thrill, though she immediately told herself it was petty and beneath her.
She looked Brook up and down. Those long legs in the fine leathers, those pretty hands, those eyes. She was bound to be a distraction anyhow. Might as well be a useful one.
Aisling nodded. “Yes. I agree. If I can tell my family about you, too.”
“Will they come to the dance?”
“They usually do. It’s a good place to find interested investors every year.”
“I’d love to meet them. Charm them, even. Parents love me,” Brook insisted. “And anyone else you want me to meet—anything you want me to do, really.”
“It’s mutually helpful,” Aisling admitted. “Let that be enough.”
“Anything else we do is no obligation, then? Just what we want? For example, another evening of wine and…?”
Aisling couldn’t help smiling. Something deep down inside her warned that this was a bad idea; that she liked Brook far too much to be false or secretive about her; that this would complicate something potentially beautiful.
But Brook made her feel good. Understood, wanted, smart, pretty. And even though it could only last for another week, Aisling wasn’t ready to give it up before then. So she wiped her hands on her apron and held one out to Brook over the counter.
Brook took it, squeezed, and then swept it up to her lips and kissed her knuckles. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
Aisling doubted that very much.
The day was so busy, with elves coming to and from the games and the business of the marriage pavilion, that Aisling quite lost track of time.
In the afternoon, she started on her batch of dough to rise for the next morning and put the rest of her pies for the dinner rush into the oven.
Thankfully she had her system down to muscle memory, or her mental distraction might’ve ended up burning more than a few orders.
All she could think of was Brook’s odd, almost desperate question:
“Would you ever consent to a fake engagement, Aisling?”
It wasn’t an inconvenient idea in the least. But it settled oddly inside her belly as the day went on, a feeling of uncertainty, of trepidation.
Aisling had allowed herself to get carried away by Brook’s practiced flirtation and pretty eyes.
Of course, there would be a practical element to anything between them—and why shouldn’t there be?
It was only for the rest of the market, anyhow.
Aisling would be Brook’s flavor-of-the-summer, and Brook would be a welcome distraction.
No denying that Aisling was far less stressed about her oven, her new custard cake recipe, even her family and whatever they were up to since Brook had come around and offered a change of pace.
With all these justifications in mind, Aisling shut down her stall and set up the ingredients to make two batches of cakes for tomorrow.
Brook appeared at the usual hour, but this time she had no bottle of wine. She helped Aisling close up and then said, “I wonder, since you weren’t planning on going to any of the dances, if you might need a gown or suit?”
Aisling flushed. She hadn’t even thought of that. “Oh. The cultural dances are formal, aren’t they?”
“They’re for everyone, though, so only the real stuffy elves get too formal. But if you’re interested in a little finery for the occasion, I know the most wonderful tailor.”
Aisling tried not to agree too quickly. All of her resources went to the bakery and her oven development, and that had gone doubly for her parents when she was growing up. Finery was a rare indulgence. “Oh. Well, I suppose I could…”
Brook shot her a sideways grin, as if she understood. “It’d be cost-free. Rowan is a cousin of some kind or other, and she’s the best at the market.”
“You have a cousin who’s a tailor?”
“Not all royal-blooded elves are wastrels, Ash, I told you.”
Aisling chuckled. “I can afford a little something.”
“Please, let me.” Brook tucked Aisling’s arm into her own, turning down the path toward the clothing and gift stalls. “I’d love to spoil you a little, as hard as you work.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know. That’s what makes it fun.”
Aisling tried not to be too charmed. But she failed utterly.
Rowan the tailor was tall and beautiful, with the most interesting bird-like hair of black-and-pink.
She was also obviously very, very good at what she did; she had Aisling’s bodice pattern pinned within the first five minutes.
It was a whirlwind of activity, one very different from the ready-made shops Aisling frequented in Copperford.
“I usually buy new things in something like my size and alter them myself,” she confessed to Brook quietly at one point. “Especially with the tail.”
“I prefer to shop that way as well. But since I don’t like wearing skirts and my legs are—well, you know they’re long.” She smirked.
Aisling grinned. “Are they? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Mmm, you sure about that?”
They were laughing together when Rowan came back in and started pinning the material for the skirt.
After a half hour’s work, Rowan said she had all she wanted and gave them a cursory, “Come back tomorrow evening for a fitting, will you? And I’ll have something for you, too.” She nodded at Brook.
Brook raised her eyebrows but didn’t argue.
“Are you sure it’s not too last minute?” Aisling worried. “Tomorrow’s the day before, and then the day of, and if we need to be there early—”
“I have a bodice close to these specifications already,” Rowan assured them with a chuckle. “The skirt is a lot of material but less complex, and the sleeves are simple. Don’t trouble yourself. I’m a genius.”
Aisling had to agree.
To go to the dance, Aisling would have to lose that entire evening and part of the morning; she had plenty to prepare in the meantime and only two days (and one night) to do it.
She visited Inventor’s Row once more, this time to find one of Darra’s friends who was famous for his cooling boxes; a larger one would let her prepare in bulk, which would solve the most complex problem.
Once the box was ready to be delivered, however, Aisling was neck-deep in her dinner rush and couldn’t get there.
She thought about sending a magical missive to Darra asking for help…
But she couldn’t bring herself to. So when Brook showed up that evening, Aisling had already closed up shop and was about to head to Inventor’s Row again.
“Where are you off to?” Brook asked cheerfully.
“I have to pick up a new, bigger ice box. So I can make pie crusts tonight for tomorrow and tomorrow for the day after—and maybe extra, if it’s big enough.
I also need to get eggs before my supplier turns in for the night, and I have to make sure my cinnabark supplier is up-to-date, and I haven’t seen my jewelberry supplier since they dropped off my initial order, and I’d love to find some more, but—”
“Whoa, whoa.” Brook took Aisling by the arms and squeezed gently. “Which one of the things can I do right now?”
Aisling thought for a moment, trying to still her mind. “Um… eggs? Can you go get eggs? And ask them to put it on my account?”
“How many eggs?”
“Three dozen. No, six! Then I won’t need to go tomorrow.”
“Done,” Brook said seriously. “And then what can I do?”
“Ummm, I’m not sure how I’ll get the ice box into the stall. It’s ready now, but—”
“I have an idea. Which tent?”
Aisling frowned. “An idea?”
“Well, we could just hire a cart. But I think the magic match vendor, Elian, has levitation charms. I could just go grab one of those and sort of—push it here.”
“That’s…” Aisling was about to argue, but she couldn’t. “Brilliant, actually.”
“Isn’t it?””
Aisling smiled but then realized that was just part of her massive to-do list. “And I know we need to go see Rowan for my fitting, but I really must start building up extra crusts and doughs and fillings in the ice box, and then I’ll have to get ready for the food competition—”
“Aisling,” Brook interrupted.
“Hm?” Aisling blinked at her, head spinning.
“This is my fault. You had a whole plan for your time here, you had your system sorted out, and here I am demanding your attention.”
“Oh.” Aisling blinked some more. “No. I mean, yes, but I don’t mind you having my attention. I like it.”
Brook smiled, that genuine, eye-crinkling smile. “I do too, I’m sorry to say. But also not sorry to say. So—can I help you tonight? I’ll get your errands done, you go to Rowan, and then we’ll meet back here and I can be an extra set of hands. I’m good at taking instruction.”
Aisling laughed. “I doubt that very much.”
“Well, I’m very good at taking instruction from pretty elves,” Brook corrected. “And I’ll bet you’re very, very good at giving it.”
“At giving…?” Aisling’s mind went directly to things decidedly unrelated to baking.
“Instructions,” Brook repeated, smile going wicked. “Among other things that I hope to discover very soon. Once we have you sorted out.”
On impulse, Aisling stepped forward, put her arms around Brook’s waist, and hugged.
Brook didn’t hesitate, pulling Aisling closer and resting her cheek on the top of her head. She was just the right size for that, and her chest was perfect for resting on, and…
“So, it’s a plan?” Brook asked.
Aisling made herself pull away, nodding. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
“Shall I walk you up to Rowan’s first?” Brook asked.
Aisling shook her head. “No. No, the eggs are more important.”
“I’ve got them,” Brook promised, making a little bow, then turning on her heel and starting south.
Aisling watched the sway of her hips as she walked away. Then jumped into action herself, heading for Rowan’s booth.
Rowan had a full dress waiting for her, somehow; a lovely, forest green mandisilk skirt and sleeves offset by a shimmery bronze bodice with emerald lacings.
Aisling forgot her hurry the moment she stepped into the dress, staring wide-eyed at herself in the mirror.
She’d never worn anything this lovely in her life.
It wasn’t something she’d enjoy daily; it’d be very much in the way in the bakery, for one thing. But for one night, it would be…
Well. It would be worth all the work she’d have to do tonight, certainly.
When she arrived at her stall again, the sun was almost down, and Brook was standing near the back door with a crate in her arms. “Oh, you’re here! Could you open the door for me?”
Aisling did so quickly, and immediately noticed that, “The ice box is here!”
“Yes, got the levitation magic match, worked like a charm,” Brook reported. “Though, the elf who sold it to me was not Elian. Big fellow, sour face. Handsome, though.”
“And how much did that cost you?”
“Now, Aisling, what’s the point of being engaged to aa noble if you don’t get people to take care of your every whim?” Brook settled the eggs on the counter, brushed off her hands, and then said, “What do we do first?”
Aisling glanced around, tail swishing thoughtfully. Then said: “Pie crusts and cake batter. Lots of it.”
Brook stretched her long arms outward, interlacing her fingers to crack them. “At your service, my lady love.”
And though it was a joke, Aisling couldn’t help the little frisson of excitement it sent up her spine to hear it.
They had a productive evening—in spite of ending up laughing so hard they ended up in tears on the stall floor—so Aisling slept well that night after another inviting kiss goodnight. This time, she had no trouble falling into a deep, dark, dreamful sleep.