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Aisling couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re very good at this. Are you sure you don’t want to try the marriage market? I think you’d catch the biggest fish in the pond.”

“No doubt I would, but then they’d want to marry me.” Brook spread her fingers wide before her, as if to ward something off. “When all I really want is good conversation and maybe a drink.”

“Is that all?” Aisling raised an eyebrow.

“Would you like to have a drink with me and find out?”

“Bold!” She laughed. Aisling knew plenty of engineers, and the smarter they were, the more insufferably cocky they became. Hence, her family. But this was a new kind of cocky, one that made her want to laugh instead of scream.

Possibly because it was paired with the biggest, darkest pair of eyes Aisling had ever seen in her life.

“Do you like bold?” Brook asked seriously.

“I think I might.” Aisling turned right as they exited the market proper. The camping grounds at the point were dotted with fires, glowing globes, lanterns, and other spots of brilliance that glistened in the river surrounding it. No wonder she’d thought this place was magical, as a child. “But not tonight. I have to be up early.”

“Ah, yes. Baking. By the way, is that a standard oven in Copperford?”

“No. I…” Aisling bit her lip to keep from smiling too hard. “Did you guess that I invented that, too?”

Brook shrugged, laughing. “It was worth a try.”

“I have a million ideas for how to improve it.”

“A secondary project to the bakery itself? Ambitious.”

“I don’t think there’s a bakery without the oven. But there’d be no oven if it wasn’t a bakery… so I don’t know,” Aisling admitted. “We’ll see how it does in the Innovation Awards.”

“You’ll take a prize,” Brook said easily. “And what will you do with the winnings?”

“Finally make my improvements. Magic infused tech is expensive. Especially when you care about quality.” Aisling snorted. Even for her parents, who worked with metals and magicians wholesale, it was quite the undertaking.

“Well, take the cooking competition, then you’ll have the funds to make your oven improvements.”

Aisling shook her head, sighing. “It’d take ‘til midwinter if I got the materials tomorrow.” Not to mention she’d need every bit of her earnings from the market—after her fee for the stall, the supplies, and the deliveries, of course—plus all the winnings she could manage if she wanted to do it right. And why bother doing it at all if not?

“But that is the plan, then? Use the market’s opportunities to make a better oven, use the better oven to make more incredible pastries, use the pastries to charm every elf in Everend blind?”

Aisling rolled her eyes but chuckled as they neared her wagon. She slowed and said, “I’m here.”

“Really? No drink?” Brook’s dark lower lip jutted out slightly.

“No.” Aisling licked her lips, trying not to stare at Brook’s. On impulse, she said, “If you come to the stall tomorrow, though, I might save you a special cake.”

Brook’s face lit up again, absolutely dazzling. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Chapter 3: Brook

“Thank you, Azalea,” Brook said with a smile. Fully dressed, she plopped back down on the luxurious four-poster bed she occupied in The Webbed Foot, the small but opulent inn the Fyreham-Greymalkins chose nearly every Midsummer Market. They had comfortable rooms and a good breakfast, which were the only two things Papa insisted he must have. Brook also liked the staff, including Azalea, whom she’d seen grow into young adulthood over the decades.

The girl set down Brook’s breakfast tray and gave a little curtsey and a giggle.

“What’s the gossip this morning? Yesterday it was all about Raylen of Moonscliffe.” Brook grinned.

As expected, Azalea giggled again, this time with a pretty flush. “I think I saw him yesterday.”

“And was he with his newly intended? Or has he failed to find one after all?”

“I think he was.” She tapped her bottom lip thoughtfully. “There was a very handsome elf with him.”