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Brook took her time getting ready that afternoon. She chose her softest, most form-hugging leathers, her best simple-but-elegant jewelry for her ears, and even had Azalea come up and brush out her wild curls until they looked like spun mandisilk.

She thought about stopping by the archery competition to cheer on Raylen—and ask about his beau—but no. She’d taken too long trying to make herself pretty; she had very little time now. Aisling would only be open another few hours, and then she’d close up shop and be hard to find once more. And Brook had things to say to her.

She wasn’t sure what, exactly. But things would be said. Or she’d explode.

All that resolved melted when she spotted the shuttered stall. Plenty of customers were still milling around the food stalls—it was barely dinner time—but the Cloud Cake stall was shut up tight. Heart in her throat, Brook went around the back. She raised her hand to knock. Paused.

Then turned around and walked away quickly.

A few deep breaths, a quick glass of stone fruit wine from one of her favorite stalls, and Brook finally told herself to stop being a tragic waster and do something. She’d regret it if she didn’t—and seeing as she’d never felt that way about any of other lover after things had gone awry, it must mean something.

So she knocked on Aisling’s door.

“Go away.” Aisling’s voice was thick and wet, followed by unmistakable sobs.

“Aisling?” Brook asked. “Are you all right?”

“No! I don’t want you to see!” came the choked reply from within.

“Is it locked?” Brook asked.

A few pathetic little sobs were the only reply.

“I’m coming in.” Brook threw the door open.

And found Aisling on the floor of her stall, wilting in a pool of her own skirts, her face red and puffy and wet.

And a pile of tiny, indistinguishable pieces of leather, wood, and metal at her knees.

Brook knelt beside her. “What happened? What is it?”

Aisling swiped the back of her hand over her eyes. “The bellows. I was trying to upgrade the gearwork, but I think one of the enchantments gave out, or I interfered with it, and now…”

“Oh no.” Brook had been around the bakery long enough to know that the bellows were the key to Aisling’s innovative approach. The way they circulated the superheated air, it kept things from burning on the bottom while allowing it to cook evenly inside.

But the pile of pieces on Aisling’s floor didn’t look anything like a bellows. It was just…

“I’m fucked.” Aisling sniffled wetly. “I shouldn’t have tried to do anything tonight. I’m so sick.”

“Sick?” Brook looked her over worriedly.

Aisling winced. “Okay, hungover. I went to the dance last night. Brought some ale back here because I got tired of watching the annoying couples.”

“Oh, Ash…” Brook put an arm around her small shoulders.

Aisling leaned into her. “You smell nice.”

Brook smiled. “Thank you. I tried. I planned to come and convince you to talk to me.”

“I’m sorry. I ruin everything,” Aisling said.

“We’ll fix it,” Brook said.

Aisling shook her head. “No. The enchantment takes forever. That’s why I need so much investment—it’s expensive too.”

“You’ve made a fortune here.”

“It’s not enough. But the awards are tomorrow. The Innovation Awards.” Another wet sniffle from Aisling. “Not that I had a chance anyhow. There’s an airship.”