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“Food.” Farrendel quirked a smile.
“Got it. Let’s sample a bunch of stuff.” Essie led him to the booth with the egg and sausage sandwiches and ordered two of the smallest sandwiches. The woman behind the counter bobbed a curtsy to Essie and sneaked glances at Farrendel as she took Essie’s payment.
Farrendel wrapped his sandwich in a napkin so that he could eat it without touching the food with his fingers. He wolfed the sandwich down in just a few bites.
Essie stopped at a booth with egg and spinach wraps, then a booth with stir fried vegetables and potatoes topped with cheese, eaten out of a bowl with a fork, much to Farrendel’s appreciation.
Essie dumped their bowls and forks in the tub the booth had set out for the dishes. “Come on. Now we need to get dessert. My favorite bakery always has a booth in the market.”
Farrendel followed her without protest as she threaded her way between the people, who usually stepped out of her way with slight curtsies and sideways glances at Farrendel.
Essie tried to see this market as Farrendel saw it. Brick walls surrounded them with glass windows set high in the walls. Steel sheets covered most of the roof, but parts were made with steel frames and glass panels, giving more light. Rows of booths filled the space while people bustled, carrying bags and parcels and food.
They turned a corner, and the warm smell of cinnamon and yeast and baking bread wafted in the air. The Sixth Street Bakery’s booth was tucked into the end of a row, a pipe connecting the oven to a large, central chimney that served several of the food booths in this section of the market.
The white-haired woman beside the oven set down a tray and bustled toward them. “Princess Essie! It is so good to have you home!”
“It’s good to be back in Aldon. I’ve missed your cinnamon rolls.” Essie resisted the urge to give Mrs. Burke a hug. Essie was close to her, but not that close. A princess did not distribute hugs to people in the marketplace. “Please tell me you have some still warm.”
“I just spread the frosting on these.” Mrs. Burke pulled out a tray. The cinnamon rolls lined up, the frosting melting in white, gooey pools.
Essie reached into her pocket for coins, but Mrs. Burke shook her head. “No need to pay. These are gifts. For your wedding.”
It was always tricky accepting gifts as a princess. People often gave gifts, hoping to eventually get a favor in return. But Essie had spent enough money at this bakery over the years and her patronage of the place was well-known. It was unlikely that Mrs. Burke was angling for a favor; she was simply offering a gift out of the kindness of her heart.
“Thank you. Farrendel and I appreciate it.” Essie smiled up at Farrendel. He was attempting to appear friendly, which was mostly him lurking at her side with his mouth occasionally twitching with something that might have been a smile or a muscle spasm. It was hard to tell.
Mrs. Burke slid two of the cinnamon rolls onto napkins. She leaned closer as she handed them over. “Your elf husband is the silent type, I see.”
Essie stifled a snort. “He’s quiet but sweet. And, he understands Escarlish.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Burke covered her mouth. “I apologize, Prince Farrendel. No offense meant.”
His ears tipped a shade pink, Farrendel glanced at Essie, as if asking her what he was supposed to say next. Essie gave him what she hoped was an encouraging wave. She had to be careful not to keep answering for him in situations like this.
He gave a small sound in the back of his throat. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
Mrs. Burke smiled. “Oh, you’re a dear.”
“Yes, he is.” Essie handed one of the cinnamon rolls to Farrendel. Mrs. Burke was Essie’s secret weapon when it came to public opinion. Mrs. Burke’s bakery was a favorite among the elite, and she’d tell everyone how Farrendel was a sweetheart and he and Essie were very much in love. It might not sway the hardened, but some would listen.
With a final wave at Mrs. Burke, Essie strolled back into the crowd. She bit into her cinnamon roll, closing her eyes for a moment at the sweetness. She’d missed these so much in Estyra.
She tried to savor it. She really did. But somehow the cinnamon roll disappeared in only a few warm, gooey bites.
As Essie licked the last of the frosting from her fingers, she couldn’t help but laugh at the glare Farrendel was giving his own sticky hands. She bumped into him. “Just lick your fingers.”
Farrendel frowned. “Humans are...”
“Sticky? Gross? Unmannerly?” Essie nudged him with her elbow.
“Unsanitary. Do you eat everything with your fingers?”
“No. After all, it would be hard to eat soup that way.” Essie held out her hand to him. “Come on. Let’s find a faucet so we can wash our hands.”
Farrendel shook his head, leaning away from her. “No hand-holding until you wash your hands.”
“My hands? Your hands are the ones still sticky with frosting.” Essie headed for the nearest corner, where a public water closet would have a sink.
