Chapter 18 Bond over Baked Goods
(and Avoid Thinking About Tomorrow)
Arabella
The vast main kitchen of Skyspire sprawled across its own floating island, connected to the Great Hall by a reinforced lightning bridge wide enough to transport feast supplies.
I paused at the threshold, taking in the sheer scale of the operation.
Dozens of cooks hustled amid the din of shouted orders and clattering pots.
At the chamber’s heart, a series of interconnected hearths roared with enchanted flames that never smoked, their heat perfectly controlled by glowing runes carved into the stone surrounds.
Roasted meat and fresh bread warred with the sharp tang of spices.
I rarely ventured here. But the promise of Sebastian’s scones had drawn me in, along with a desperate need to think about anything other than my father rotting in the dungeons.
I kept waiting to feel some clarity about Lord Evenfall’s fate. Death seemed too merciful for someone who’d locked me in a tower, calling it love while he paraded suitors past me like I was a prized cow. But if not death, then what? Let the Dark Lord have him?
Kaz would be pleased, but it would simply be a way of passing on the decision I should be making.
“Move it, or I’ll use your bones for stock!” a woman’s voice boomed across the cavernous space.
I startled, but the words weren’t meant for me. The command had come from Marna, who ran the kitchens with the same iron fist Kazimir used to rule his territories, and woe to anyone who disrupted her domain.
Which made the sight before me all the more surprising.
Sebastian stood at his own dedicated workstation—prime real estate in Marna’s kingdom—removing a tray of golden scones from the oven and placing them on a cooling rack.
It was hard to miss the tall, golden-haired nobleman with his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms dusted with flour.
He looked like he’d stepped out of a fairy tale and into a villain’s lair.
He’d changed since we’d found him in the forest. Gone were the bloodstained traveling clothes, replaced by loose dark trousers and a simple linen shirt in charcoal gray—practical Skyspire attire that looked strange on someone who’d probably spent his entire life in Solandrian pastels.
The darker colors made his violet eyes stand out even more, and I made a mental note to thank Vex.
Sebastian had arrived with nothing but the clothes on his back, yet somehow she’d already equipped him with an entire wardrobe.
She perched on a nearby stool, the tips of her black hair faded into silver, watching him work with an expression of mild amusement. And Griffin…
Griffin wasn’t supposed to be here at all.
As I approached the group, I resisted the urge to check that the glamor hiding the Heirloom’s outline was still in place. The spell Kazimir had taught me this morning was holding, but I wasn’t convinced I’d mastered it yet.
I sat down next to Griffin. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on our problem?”
He jumped at my voice, nearly dropping the Doom Scroll balanced on his knee. “Lady Blackrose! I—that is—I’m on break? A very legitimate, authorized break. Please don’t tell Lord Blackrose.”
“Griffin’s counting this as a meal,” Vex confirmed, though her tone suggested she found this as dubious as I did. “I’m supervising.”
“Like I’m a child who can’t be trusted near sharp objects,” Griffin added miserably.
“Marna’s rules, not mine,” Vex said with finality.
I shook my head. “Relax, Griffin. I’m not here to police your punishment.”
“Oh good.” His shoulders sagged with relief. “Because Sebastian promised me first taste of the new batch, and I’ve been waiting for ages.”
Sebastian glanced up from his work. “Arabella! Perfect timing. These will be ready in just a moment.”
Something about the familiar way he smiled triggered a strange flutter in my chest. Not attraction—that particular ship had never even left port—but a recognition that felt significant somehow, yet I couldn’t grasp why. Like it should attach to a memory but didn’t.
I blinked, disoriented.
“Are you all right?” Sebastian asked.
“Fine,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just hungry.”
Marna chose that moment to materialize at Sebastian’s elbow, making all of us jump.
She was a broad-shouldered woman with arms like a blacksmith’s and a voice that could make rag dolls stand up straight.
Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and her weathered face bore the scowl of someone who’d spent decades managing chaos through sheer force of will.
She peered at the scones with a critical eye.
“Hmm,” she said finally. “Acceptable.”
From Marna, that was practically a declaration of love.
Sebastian beamed like she’d just crowned him emperor. “Thank you! I was worried about the oven temperature—”
“Don’t let it go to your head, boy.” But there was something almost fond in her gruffness. Until she turned her gaze on Griffin, who winced reflexively. “No explosions in my kitchen, enchanter.”
She stomped away, bellowing at a cook who’d committed the sin of letting a sauce reduce too far.
Griffin was frowning. “Last time I was here, Marna threw a ladle at my head.”
“You deserved it,” Vex and I said at the same time.
“Griffin’s been explaining the Doom Scroll to me,” Sebastian interrupted, saving Griffin from further humiliation. “Fascinating device.”
Griffin’s entire face lit up. “You really think so? Most people find it morbid.”
“Morbid?” Sebastian wiped his hands on a cloth. “It’s brilliant. Though I wonder if you’ve considered adding a happiness index as a counterbalance? Might provide interesting comparative data.”
Griffin practically melted at the suggestion, and I had to admire Sebastian’s technique. He’d always been good at making people feel seen.
“Lord Sebastian,” Vex said, drawing his attention. “I’ve been instructed to inform you that you’ll be accompanying Lord and Lady Blackrose to the God Spire tomorrow morning.”
Sebastian’s eyebrows rose. “Tomorrow morning?”
“Portal opens at dawn,” Vex confirmed.
“Right.” Sebastian’s movements became more purposeful, his earlier leisurely pace abandoned. “Then I should finish these quickly. Can’t leave Marna’s kitchen in disarray—she’d hunt me down across the realms.”
Griffin made a strangled sound. “I’ve always wanted to go to the God Spire. The Academia of Malice is there—the only university dedicated to studying villainy from an academic perspective.”
“You’re not going,” Vex said firmly.
Sebastian, with the diplomatic grace of someone trained in courtly politics, said, “Griffin, I’m sure your research is important, if you need to stay here.”
It was perfectly calibrated to make Griffin feel important without undermining Kazimir’s punishment. Griffin shot Sebastian a grateful look, and then the enchanter pushed his spectacles up on his nose and his eyes brightened like he’d had an epiphany.
I waited for an outburst but was distracted when Sebastian handed me a plate with a flower-shaped scone, still steaming, along with a small pot of clotted cream.
I took a bite and nearly moaned. It was perfect—light, crumbly, with just the right balance of butter and sweetness from the blueberries.
And the cream was obviously enhanced with something magical that transcended traditional baking. “Sebastian, this is perfect.”
“Thank you, my lady,” he said with a grin.
Two passing kitchen maids saw his smile and collided with the grace of startled chickens, their faces flushing crimson as they stammered apologies—not to each other, but to the air in front of them, their eyes still fixed on Sebastian like he’d just conjured the sun.
The rest of us pretended not to notice as they fled, whispering furiously about “those eyes” and “the whole package.”
“Are you coming to the God Spire, Vex?” Sebastian asked, turning those violet eyes on her.
“Someone has to keep Skyspire from falling out of the sky,” she said with a wry smile. “With all the reconstruction and Lord Blackrose leaving, I’m needed here.”
“A pity.” Sebastian arranged more scones on plates. “Though Griffin tells me you’re the one who actually keeps this place running, so it makes sense.”
“Flattery will get you extra jam,” Vex said drily, “but it won’t change my responsibilities.”
Sebastian laughed. “Worth a try. Though Griffin’s been quite vocal about your competence.”
“When he’s not terrified of her,” I added teasingly, but Griffin was staring thoughtfully into space and didn’t hear me.
“A healthy fear of Vex is a sign of intelligence.” Sebastian passed her a plate with a scone. “Anyone who isn’t at least a little intimidated by someone who can manage Kazimir Blackrose’s citadel is either brave or foolish.”
Vex took a bite of the scone and made an appreciative sound. “Your magic—it’s not just life force manipulation, is it? There’s something else in this.”
Sebastian’s hands stilled for a moment. “You can taste it?”
“I can sense it,” Vex corrected. “The enhancement. It’s subtle, but it’s there.”
“Biomantic cultivation,” Sebastian said.
“I sense life and purpose in organic things. The yeast in this dough is alive—I can coax it to rise perfectly. Those herbs drying? Their cells are dying, but they still have intent, a reason for being. I can keep them potent, prevent spoilage. The preserved meats are further gone—I can tell if they’re safe, but I can’t change them.
It’s like… living things sing to me. Dying things with purpose hum. True death is just silence.”
She brushed a crumb off her face. “That must be overwhelming.”
The Doom Scroll suddenly flared with red text, drawing Griffin’s attention. “Oh, that’s not good.”
“What?” I moved closer, trying to read the moving script.