Chapter 39
Having grown up in the capital city of Iseldis, Ian had thought he knew every street and shop inside of it.
Robin, arm in a sling, had ridden with him as planned, then led him down a side street near the main square just behind Mistress Cedrice’s sewing shop.
Ian was surprised when she stopped at a small storefront he had never noticed before. He did not need the golden loaves in the window to tell him that this was a bakery, as he could smell the enticing aroma of freshly baked bread from down the street.
Inside, the shop itself consisted of a small countertop, a few shelves, and a large brick oven that took up most of the back wall. “I thought I knew all the best places in Iseldis to get the best bread, but if this smell is any indication, I may have been missing one.”
“If you continue spending time with me, I believe we could find many things in this city you are unaware of.” Robin walked across the bakery without hesitation, stepping behind the counter and opening a door in the back wall beside the oven.
“Is that an invitation?” Ian’s chest warmed at the idea of exploring the city with Robin as he followed her across the room.
“Tarrow knows me,” Robin said, stopping in the open doorway to look back at Ian.
“I meant about exploring the city,” he explained, not stopping his forward movement until he had physically run into her to nudge her gently through the door.
“Oh, that.” Robin’s voice was unexpectedly flat. She looked away, standing to the side so he could enter the room behind the bakery.
“Or perhaps these are things you should not be showing me,” Ian said, realizing he may have been more excited about the prospect than she was.
“Perhaps they are things I should have shown you long ago,” she said, turning back toward him. She leaned closer to him as she closed the door behind him.
The warmth in Ian’s chest was so intense it seemed to increase the speed of his heart. He did not breathe for fear of blowing air into her face.
She was so close. Her hand was still on the door handle even though the door was fully closed, but she did not back away.
They had not spoken closely since Ian had shared his hopelessness with her the previous day.
Aden and Isa had traveled to the city with them, so they’d had no more privacy to discuss anything further.
Not that Ian knew what he wanted to discuss, as it had been hard enough to share his dark thoughts with her the first time.
Her eyes searched his face, for what he did not know.
A voice sounded from somewhere up the staircase in the small space. “I will be with you in a moment!” The woman spoke again just as she appeared. “Oh, Robin, it’s you.” The jovial look on her face instantly tightened to a more serious expression. “Come in. Come in.”
Ian hastily stepped back, the moment with Robin broken. He schooled his face to hide the racing of his heart.
But he needn’t have. The woman walked between them as though they had separated for her benefit alone and opened the door into the shop front.
After locking the front door so that no other visitors could enter, she grabbed a loaf from the warming shelf and walked back toward them.
As she passed between them again, Ian let his eyes return to Robin behind her.
Robin was still looking back at him. She had said that she wanted to know him, the current him. He had not yet told her that he also wanted to know her, as she was now.
But now was not the time. The room behind the storefront appeared to be the actual bakery where the bread was made. The oven was accessible from this side of the wall, and the rest of the room was set up like a small but efficient kitchen.
The woman—presumably the baker herself, judging by the flour-covered apron she wore—stood at a table at the center of the room. “Sit, please.” She gestured to the wooden chairs surrounding the table, though she herself remained standing.
Ian pulled a chair away from the table and sat down on it, keeping himself a short distance from the table itself as the space appeared to be needed for purposes other than hosting guests.
The top of the table was covered in various bowls of mixed dough.
A thick coating of flour covered the surface of it, and three empty eggshells sat on the corner of it.
The woman tore open the loaf of bread, handing the one half to Robin and the other to Ian. Then she adjusted the largest bowl sitting in front of her and dug both her hands into the sticky dough inside it.
“Do you have any plans to visit your sister in Chendas soon?” Robin asked, tearing at a tiny piece of the bread in her hands.
The woman leaned over the low table, putting her body weight into the dough she was working under her hands. “I expect I will by the time we have finished speaking,” the woman said. She looked over at Ian.
“This is Ian.” Robin gestured to him in a quick introduction.
“I know who he is.” The woman raised an eyebrow. “What I want to know is what the crown prince is doing in my kitchen?”
Robin looked over at Ian quickly, catching his eye with a small tilt of her head as though something had surprised her. She looked back at the woman. “My apologies. He has been working with me for many days now, and it has become so natural I forgot that not everyone knew.”
Ian quickly ripped off a large bite of bread to place in his mouth in an effort to hide the smile spreading across his face. Robin liked his presence in her life and in her work.
The woman raised her eyebrows, assessing Ian for a moment before she turned back to Robin. “I take it you are not here to turn him in to Gareth, then.”
“No!” Robin’s response was immediate. “No,” she repeated more softly, as she must have realized the woman was jesting. “I am here on business far more troubling.”
Ian continued to slowly eat away at the delicious bread in his hands as Robin explained their findings from the monastery to this unassuming baker.
He had never thought the food at the castle was particularly rich or fine, but after two sevennights of living off the meager and somewhat monotonous meals in Lockwood, he realized he was mistaken.
He savored every bite of the delicate loaf, appreciating its finely milled flour and slightly honeyed taste.
“He has obviously kept this experiment a secret,” Robin said. “But someone must know something. We need to know how many of these experiments he has. Anything you would add to that, Ian?” Robin turned to him.
“Any information would aid us,” Ian said. “But how will you . . . ?” Ian let the end of his question hang, realizing he had no polite way to ask how this woman could get them more information. If Robin believed she could, then he believed it, too.
“Oh,” Robin said. “This is Mistress Tarrow. Her sister is a baker at the castle in Chendas. Sometimes the easiest way to get information is to ask the least conspicuous person.”
Ian nodded, looking back at Tarrow with a new appreciation. “Someone who can bake bread like this can hardly be considered inconspicuous.”
Tarrow shook her head, looking back down at the dough in her hands, but she was smiling. “Keep your flattery—”
The rest of her sentence was cut off by a shriek that sounded from the street near the front of the shop.
Ian jumped to his feet and ran through the door to get to the storefront, followed quickly by Robin and Tarrow.
“The ships have been sighted!” A young man ran toward the main square, cupping his hands to his mouth as he breathlessly yelled, “The ships have been sighted offshore! The Majis have returned!”
Up and down the street, doors slammed open and townsfolk dashed outside to see what was happening. A small crowd had gathered behind the man, chasing after him and taking up the call.
Robin looked over at Ian. “It is too soon,” she said.
Ian shook his head. “We should have guessed.”
Having no response to that, Robin stepped through the front door in front of him to join the growing crowd. Ian followed her.