Page 37

Brook sat on her ass an pulled her legs up lotus-style before her. She pressed one knee into Aisling and held out her hand.

Aisling took it, eyes glistening in the gloom of her barely lit stall.

“What do you need to fix the bellows?” Brook asked. “Just make a list for me. Start at the beginning.”

“I shouldn’t have told you to go away. I’m sorry,” Aisling murmured.

Brook smiled to herself but squashed it immediately. “We’ll talk about that later. For now, how do we fix this?”

“I told you: it’d take too long. Cost too much.”

“I could afford it,” Brook pointed out.

“And what’s the use of being engaged to a noble if…” Aisling laughed wetly, echoing Brook’s words from days ago.

They were both quiet for a moment, Brook with an arm around Aisling’s shoulders, Aisling leaning into her. After a while, Aisling’s sobs quieted; her breathing synched with Brook’s, smooth and calm.

Brook kissed her forehead.

Aisling snorted out a laugh. “I thought I’d beat you to the punch, telling you to go away.”

Brook frowned and pulled back slightly, so she could see Aisling’s reddened eyes. “Beat me?”

“I shouldn’t have let myself—but I did. I did, and I can’t help it, so I thought if I just ripped us apart prematurely…” Aisling gave the biggest, heaviest sigh.

Brook tried to work out what she was talking about but failed. She tried to think of something reassuring to say.

Before she could, Aisling added, “And I stink. You smell amazing, and I smell like a pony’s backside.”

“You don’t,” Brook protested. A little sweaty, yes, but that just made Brook want to lick her. “Do you want a bath?”

“I’ll go and bathe, yes.” Another sigh, this one smaller.

“No, I mean, I’ve just had a tub brought up to my room this morning. It might still be there. I could get them to refill it for you—and I’ve got some lovely herbs and oils. It might help you…”

“Breathe without sobbing?” Aisling laughed.

“Yes.”

For a moment, Aisling got that stubborn look on her face: wrinkled nose, eyebrows drawn down, mouth puckered. But then her expression slackened, and she admitted, “Yes, please. That would be lovely.”

Brook sent a magic missive ahead via courier, and from there the walk back to The Webbed Foot was quiet. Aisling was pale as snow flowers, her eyes puffy, her nose red. She looked so small, so alone—so different from the frustrated, angry Aisling who’d driven Brook away just the day before. Brook wished she knew what to say or do, but if she couldn’t fix Aisling’s oven, what was left?

When they reached Brook’s room, the bath was already clean and half-full. Brook said, “I’ll help Azalea with the rest of the water. You can undress—use my brush and robe, if you like.”

Aisling shot her a wide-eyed look, but before the moment could get too awkward, Brook headed back down the servant’s stairs. When she returned with two buckets of hot water—Azalea on her heels with two more, Aisling stood near the window in Brook’s dark blue robe. It was the wrong size, of course, pooling around her feet, and it slid off one freckled shoulder prettily. Her hair was still pinned back, though, so Brook left the buckets for Azalea and went to Aisling.

“Do you want to wash your hair?” she asked.

Aisling blinked rapidly, as if she hadn’t even noticed Brook’s return. Then nodded. “Thank you.”

Brook began pulling pins from Aisling’s coppery hair, so long curls fell over her shoulders. When she finished with that, she took her brush from the vanity and ran it through Aisling’s hair gently.

Aisling tilted her head into it, like a foxly getting ear scritches.

Brook smiled. “I love having my hair brushed.”

“Me too. Well, I used to. It’s been so long.”