Chapter 5 Brook
Nervously, Brook adjusted her jacket in the mirror.
She wore a black and green suit with bronze buttons and a magically glowing rose in her buttonhole.
The trousers were fitted perfectly, and the jacket parted to reveal a lovely green corset that matched Aisling’s dress.
Once again, Rowan had delivered above and beyond.
When Aisling stepped out of the dressing room, all thoughts flew from Brook’s mind like fog burning off in the morning sun.
Aisling looked like a true princess; she glittered from her small, delicately slippered feet all the way to her gorgeous, sunset-colored hair.
The slashed sleeves revealed the softness of her pale arms, and the bodice pushed everything up and out just so.
Not to mention the adorable tail slot in the skirts—they swished prettily when Aisling’s tail lashed back and forth.
Brook’s breath quite literally caught in her throat.
Aisling winced. “That bad?”
Brook recovered her voice and declared: “You look even more edible than your own cloud cakes.”
“You’re one to talk!” Aisling’s eyes were wide and bright as she took in Brook’s outfit.
Worth it, then. Brook gave a little bow. “Why, thank you.”
“I feel a bit ridiculous,” Aisling said with a laugh. “I was excited to put it on again, and it’s very beautiful but…”
“Feels like you’re someone else?” Brook chuckled. “Story of my life.”
“Well, we’re playing parts.” Aisling smiled, though it flickered faintly.
Brook tucked Aisling’s arm into hers and drew her close. “This is less playing a part than any other party I’ve ever attended, at least. I’m curious what you’ll make of everything.”
Aisling shot her a sideways look and opened her mouth, as if she’d say something. Ask something? But instead, she just said, “Well, let’s go then. I have royalty to impress.”
At any other party, Brook would’ve lingered on the fringes and in side-rooms. She’d rather play games of chance and drink wine and talk nonsense than join a dance, though of course she was well-trained in all the popular ones.
She liked to admire the décor, the fashion, and of course there was the gossip element at these events to interest everyone.
But all that was best done from a distance.
But tonight, at the Gearwick Cultural Dance, Brook’s first duty—and a happy one for once—was to squire Aisling.
With that goal in mind, it was less irritating to feel eyes on her as they entered the ceremonial pavilion.
Before they’d gone ten steps, an old friend approached with open arms and a broad smile.
“Brook! You’re looking well! And who’s this beauty? ”
Aisling raised an eyebrow skeptically. Funny, since her reaction to Brook’s compliments was so often to flush.
Brook said, “Emmi, this is Aisling, my intended.” Huh. First time saying that out loud, and somehow it didn’t make Brook’s skin crawl. “Aisling, Emmi. Dun Steorra University.”
“If you ever have an urge to study the stars, do come,” Emmi said brightly.
“How’s married life?” If they were going to run into a past fling, Brook was delighted it was Emmi.
“Oh, just fine—and his family’s funding my research!”
“A result,” Brook said with a chuckle.
Emmi kissed her on the cheek, then leaned in to kiss Aisling—who allowed it though it made her laugh. Emmi said, “You two have fun—you make a beautiful pair, you know. About time you settled down, Brook.”
As they walked away, Aisling said, “Who was that?”
“Mmm, maybe five summers ago? Six? We had a little something,” Brook said.
“She’s lovely.”
“And smart—though not in a very useful way, sadly. Astrology.”
“You don’t believe in it?”
“I don’t care enough about it to have a strong opinion.” Brook snorted.
Aisling laughed and took her arm, tucking it into her own elbow. “I think it’s interesting. I like learning new things—and I don’t think it’s ever useless.”
“Well, you’re doing much more with your life than me, so you’re probably correct.” Brook squeezed her and then paused as a few elves stepped out of the way. A tight little knot of Emberleigh nobility came into view. “Right. Ready to get this over with?”
“Will your family fund my research?” Aisling teased.
“Oh, absolutely.” Brook laughed though she wasn’t joking. It was the least she could do, for Aisling’s patience these last few days. Her flexibility with her own deeply important plans was humbling.
Brook wasn’t sure she’d ever felt humbled before. She certainly never expected to like it so much, either way.
As they started toward the knot of Brook’s relations, Aisling gripped Brook’s arm tightly. “I’m a little nervous. I’ve never really talked to nobility.”
“I’m sure most of them have eaten at your stall this week,” Brook assured her.
Aisling nodded and set her jaw. That determined expression was so lovely on her, so Aisling.
“By the light, you really are beautiful,” Brook murmured.
Aisling flushed.
And Mama’s voice cut through the chatter and music to say, “Ah, Britheue. You came.”
“Don’t look so shocked, Mama. I said I would,” Brook said a little too sweetly. Then she turned to the rest of the relatives. “Meet my intended, Aisling of Copperford.” And then she rattled off the list of names and houses pertaining to everyone in the vicinity.
Aisling, to her credit, managed not to let her eyes glaze over. At the end of the list, she simply made a little bow and said, “Lovely to meet you at last.”
“Charming,” Papa said, stepping around Mama with his hand out. “Not that I expected my daughter to have anything but the finest taste. Very charming, Aisling. I hear you have the year’s frontrunner for the food competition already? Cakes, is it?”
“I hope so.” Aisling took his hand and shook. “I’ve been working towards it for years.”
“Saw in the gossip rag this morning that you’re a shoo-in,” he assured her.
Brook could’ve hugged him. Aisling’s jaw unclenched as he talked to her about baked goods and gossip, and the rest of the relatives went back to murmuring to one another judgmentally.
“You look very nice tonight,” Mama said.
Brook looked behind her to see who she was talking to. Then, when there was no one there, realized the compliment was for her. “Do I?”
“Mmm. And even if she’s not noble, she’s apparently accomplished. Which will be very good for you.”
“I can’t believe I’m agreeing with you on something at long last,” Brook quipped.
“I’ll ask around about her family.”
“They’re very well-respected inventors, which is even better than being noble, for Gearwick. We’re going to meet them next.”
“I’d tell you to make a good impression, but you’re charming enough.”
“Mama, if I didn’t know better, I’d think that was a compliment.” Brook snorted.
Mama smiled.
Brook experienced a flash of satisfaction; her plan had worked.
But then, as she watched Aisling animatedly describe her new egg custard cake to Papa, a heavier sensation settled in Brook’s belly.
There was something… not ideal about the scenario, though she couldn’t put her finger on it just then. Something off.
Or she was just overthinking. Probably that, seeing as things were going swimmingly so far.
Brook grabbed them both a glass of bubbly wine, then extracted Aisling from Papa’s conversation and led her back to the fringes.
Aisling accepted the wine gratefully. “I see where you get your sense of humor.”
“From Papa? Do you think?”
“He’s just like you.”
“Not as pretty, though.”
“Nowhere near as pretty.”
Brook winked and tucked them into a corner. In the center of the pavilion, some sort of demonstration was going on; automatons doing a Gearwickian dance or some other nonsense. It meant fewer eyes on them, thankfully. “You did marvelously.”
“They want to like me,” Aisling said into her glass. “Their worries for you may be misplaced but they’re at least sincere.”
A fair assessment, though Brook couldn’t quite admit it aloud. “Will I fare as well with your family?”
“Oh, at least. Though they may be too shocked to respond at all.”
“Do they really expect you not to settle down? To have a family?”
Aisling shrugged. “I never really saw the point of it. Darra’s life seems so…” She wrinkled up her nose.
“Boring?”
“Constraining,” Aisling decided, sticking out her little chin defiantly. “I’ve always done everything on my own, and I’m fine.”
“Well…” Brook instinctively proceeded with caution here. “If you had a little help, you might be able to treat yourself to nights like this more often.”
“You hate this,” Aisling said.
“But you don’t.” It was obvious in her wide-eyed stare, her ever-present smile, her eagerness to engage with strangers.
“I don’t. And I feel better about the dress now.”
“Good.” Brook smiled with satisfaction. “Really, I don’t even hate this, tonight. It’s worth it to see you stun them all.”
“I’ve been called many things, but never stunning.” Her tail swiped from side to side behind her, like a curious cat’s.
“Well, now you have been.” Brook leaned down and brushed her lips over the tip of Aisling’s upturned nose.
Aisling blinked rapidly, chest heaving in a deep sigh.
Brook suddenly felt a touch weak in the knees. She drained her glass and held out her hand. “Shall we dance?”
Aisling glanced toward the center of the pavilion, where the exhibition was still ongoing, and then back. “Now?”
“Why not?”
Aisling laughed out loud but covered her mouth with her free hand to stop it. “No one else is!”
Brook leaned down and said into her ear, “Want to disappear?”
Aisling pulled back, looked her in the eye, and with zero hesitation said, “Can we?”
Brook wound an arm around Aisling’s cinched waist and pulled her close.
Even cleaned up and trussed like a princess, Aisling still smelled faintly of berries and honey; she probably tasted like it too.
Brook pulled her magic cloak around them both, murmuring the spell until they faded out of the world, light wrapped tight around them.
Aisling gasped, a puff of air against Brook’s chest. “I can’t see myself!”