by Kaylin Lee
I gasped in amazement.
Then he winced and pulled his hand back, and the whisk fell to the side of the bowl. His fingers were bright red, as though they’d been burned.
“Friction,” he said ruefully. He plucked a towel off the table, wrapped it around the end of the whisk, and placed it back in the bowl which he gripped with one hand. Once again, after a moment of quiet concentration, the whisk whirred around the bowl at a speed no human hand could ever achieve.
Bits of frosting flew around the kitchen, but I didn't care. Before my very eyes, the frosting mixture thickened and grew into a billowy mass of pink frosting so soft and airy it looked like it could float right out of the bowl.
Weslan stopped the spinning, pulled the whisk from the frosting with a flourish, and waved his hand over the bowl. A cloud of golden sparkles hovered over the frosting for a moment and then disappeared, leaving the frosting a shimmering mixture of sparkly pale pink and gold. He winked at me. “Is this good enough?”
I smiled up at him, struck for a moment by the change in his demeanor. I wanted to find whoever had said the words “two-bit talent” and knock them over the head. I grabbed one of the tiny cakes from the candy mold, dipped it into the frosting bowl, and popped it right into Weslan’s mouth. The surprised look on his face was priceless, and I laughed before realizing how incredibly forward I'd been. I pretended not to notice. “What do you think?”
He raised an eyebrow. I wasn't sure if he bought my cool act, but he smiled as he chewed. “It's amazing,” he said around a mouthful, and a shiver of excitement went down my spine.
We frosted the rest of the little cakes and placed them on a tray. I took a deep breath. This was it. I left Weslan inside to clean up the mess and headed outside with our tray of sweets. The dawn rush of students running to school and neighbors heading to the market had begun, and a steady stream of traffic made its way down our lane.
I stood outside the bakery door and cleared my throat. This was going to be awkward. Could I copy the vendors at the marketplace? I opened my mouth and shouted, “Sweet treats! Cakes! Get cakes for just a quarter mark each!”
A shocking number of people diverted away from the road and headed straight toward me. I sold out within fifteen minutes, and my apron pocket bulged with marks until I thought it might burst at the seams. The moment the last little cake sold, I waved good-bye to the crowd and slipped back inside to lean against the door. Had that truly happened?
Weslan, putting the finishing touches on a sparkling clean counter, looked strangely tired when I entered the kitchen. There were bags under his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
But then I remembered the marks. “Weslan, take a look at this.” I pulled the marks from my pocket and dumped them on the table before us. “I sold out.”
He stared at me. “But … that’s … it's only been a few minutes!”
I grinned. “I know. It worked.”
The next thing I knew, I was in his arms, and he was squeezing me tight and spinning me around the room. Then he put me down and grinned. “You did it, Ella.”
“What are you talking about? You did it. This would never have worked without you.”
He ducked his head and shrugged, a flush mantling his cheeks. “Should I go get some food to make for breakfast? Since we seem to have cooked and sold everything in the kitchen?”
I scooped up several marks from the table, handed them to him, and shoved the rest into a money pouch.
Half an hour later, he returned with a bundle of fresh groceries that had my mouth watering. We made a hot breakfast of eggs, bacon, and frosted spiceberry rolls, with plenty left over for Zel and the girls. Weslan took a tray up for them, and I stood alone in the kitchen, grinning like a fool. We’d done it. We’d truly done it.
We were cleaning up after breakfast when Zel entered the kitchen. I turned to her, smiling broadly. “You’re never going to believe this.”
Zel smoothed her hair. “Morning, dear. Believe what?”
I set the money pouch in front of her.
She approached cautiously and I nearly laughed aloud at her hesitance as she peeked inside. She didn't touch it. “What is this? Where did you get this?”
“You know how, last night, Weslan said my cake was so good that we could sell it?”
She nodded, looking wary. “It was good. You're a talented cook.”
“Well, this morning, I made another cake. Actually, I made a whole bunch of small cakes with Weslan’s help. And then I sold them in the street before anyone was even down for breakfast. All the students and workers on their way out of the quarter snatched them up. I sold out before a half hour had passed! Can you believe it?”
“They bought them all?” Her voice sounded dangerous.
Why did she sound so unhappy? “Yes. I charged low prices, so I guess it was an easy sell. But we made more than enough money to cover the cost of the ingredients, and Weslan used some of the profit to buy more ingredients for breakfast today. And the best part is—”
“Hold on. You sold them in front of the bakery?” Zel shook her head as though in disbelief. “What were you thinking?”
“What are you talking about? I thought you would be happy! We finally made money.”
“I told you not to worry about it, Ella! I had it covered.” This was the first time I had ever seen Zel looking quite so flustered.
Usually cool, calm, and confident, she turned red, anger and worry marring her beautiful face. She lifted the pouch in the air. “Money is fine, sure. But not at the risk of giving away our safety here. You could’ve led any tracker to our door with the kind of attention you must've drawn.” She thumped the bag of marks down and stormed from the room.
~
I avoided Zel for the rest of the day, but at dinner that night on the roof, I tried again. “Zel, I have an idea for a way for us to make more money without attracting attention to the bakery. Trust me, I care about protecting you and the bakery too. Haven’t I proven that over the years?”
Zel’s silence was broken only by the distant sound of laughter from the tavern down the street and the twins’ forks clanking against their plates. The days had grown hotter and the kitchen was too warm by evening, so we’d taken to eating dinner on the roof. The dark, cloudy night was lit by the small luminous lamp on the table, which provided enough light for me to see the frustration on Zel’s face. Had she honestly thought I would drop the matter?
She crossed her arms and glanced from me to Weslan. They exchanged a look I couldn’t interpret, and then she looked back at me. Finally, she spoke. “So what's your idea?” Her voice dripped with skepticism.
“What if we set up a market stall in a different quarter? One where people don’t know us? That way, no matter what we do, it won’t draw any attention to the bakery.”
“What market? Ferus Lane Market is the only one nearby.”
I took a deep breath. This was my chance. “I know you're not going to like this, but please, consider it. I heard from Gregor just yesterday. They're reopening the market on Theros Street.”
Bri gasped, and Zel frowned. “They would never—”
“They are. I suppose they decided that it's time to move on.” Weslan looked confused, so I elaborated. “Theros Street Market was the site of the Crimson Blight’s first major attack two years ago. A lot of people died, and they never reopened it after the attack. But if they're reopening it now, it must mean that it's safe now, right?”
Weslan rolled his shoulders, an odd look coming over his face. Would he want to back out now?
Zel shook her head. “I don’t know. And even if it were safe, I don't think we can afford it. You’d spend any profits from your baking just paying the rent on the stall, and you’d have even less time to take care of the bakery. You know I want you to have a chance to do something outside of the bakery. But is now really the right time to take a risk like this?”
“But that's just it,” I said. “The rates are low because they're try
ing to get people back into the market. This could be the perfect time for us to pick up a lease.” Zel was silent, and I seized the chance to press my case. “We can figure something out. I just feel like this is something that I need to do. I'm smart, right?”
Zel looked surprised at the subject change, but smiled softly. “Yes, of course. I've always said you're smart.”
Weslan and the twins stayed quiet, watching us talk.
“Well, I thought I was. I thought I had a future. But it turns out that I don't.” I hadn’t meant for the words to sound so bitter. “Can’t you let me use my mind for something else? I tested my idea this morning, and it worked! This could be a way for us to make money and to pay off Cyrus before he takes things any further. We could hire help for the bakery. We could eat real food every day, not only once in a while. Everything I was going to do with a government job, I could do with this. But you have to let me try.”
Zel shook her head. “It's not that I don't think you're smart or that I don't believe in you. It's not that I don't want you to use your mind and try to build a real future. Of course, I do. I love you. You have to believe that.”
“I do, but—”
“Listen, it's just not safe. Even if you weren’t being targeted by Cyrus, what if the Blight comes back and hits the same market again because they don't want it reopening?”
Alba’s fork clattered as she dropped it on her plate, and Weslan shifted in his seat as though suddenly uncomfortable. Could Zel be right?
I hated to admit it, but that sounded like exactly the kind of thing the Blight would do. “That may be true. But we can't live in fear forever, right? Like you said, nothing is safe in the city anymore. I was attacked at my own school, in a classroom of all places. Cyrus threatened me at our own neighborhood market. Those are the two places I should’ve been safest besides the bakery.”
The man with the face of blood flashed before my eyes again and a strange wave of dizziness overtook me for a moment. I shook it off. “At some point, we must try something new, right? Because what we’ve been doing isn’t working. Cyrus is proof enough of that. And maybe they’ll have better security, since it's just reopening. I'm sure everyone will have the same questions about safety that we do.”
“I think Ella’s right,” Weslan said, interjecting for the first time. A flutter of excitement warmed me at his words. He was with me after all.
“If this is the first time it’s opened since the original attack,” he said, “I bet security will be better than that at any other market in the area. They won’t want it to happen again.”
Zel glared at him, but the look on Zel’s face said she knew she was losing. An air of resignation settled around her.
I pressed forward. “The fact remains—the only way to stop Cyrus is to make more money. Now, we can wait until the ball to see if we get more orders. But it didn't happen before the last ball. I remember that clearly enough.” I stood and started clearing the dishes. “I think my idea gives us a good chance. We’ll have to sell less from the bakery to focus on the market stand, and yes, I know that’s risky. But everything we do is risky, isn’t it? And I think that this plan has the best chance of success.”
“Fine.” Zel leaned back in her chair.
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She’d agreed. She might not like my plan, but she’d go along with it. The moment didn’t quite feel like victory, but at least it wasn’t defeat.
Alba and Bri looked at me like I’d grown another head. I’d never opposed Zel so strongly before, but I wanted to do this. I needed to do this. As much as Zel wanted to protect me, she couldn't leave the house without the chance of getting caught by trackers, so there was only so much she could do.
Weslan lifted the tray of dirty dishes, and left the roof. I followed close behind.
Every night, the nightmare man haunted my dreams and half of my waking moments too. But if I could do this, I’d be taking control again, proving to myself that my nightmares hadn’t won. I wouldn't live in fear forever, and I wouldn't let it stop me from protecting my family or from seeking out a real future. I had to try.
With Weslan working with me, we had a chance to do something that we never would’ve been able to do before. In fact, I didn't know any other merchants who worked with a mage in their shop. Perhaps mages helped in the kitchen in some Procus households, but I didn't think so. The Procus families were far more likely to have mages use their powers on objects directly. Why wouldn't they?
Procus families had basically unlimited access to fuel and resources. They didn't need tools or replacements for cheap, rationed cinderslick like we did. They had all the high quality cinderslick they could ever want. But this was something new. We could do something different. And deep down, under the fear and exhaustion and worry, I was absolutely thrilled about the prospect.
The next evening, however, my excitement turned to frustration.
“Come on, tell me. What else do we need?”
I slumped at the table while Weslan paced in front of me, waving a notepad and pencil in the air. What had I been thinking? There was no way we could afford this.
“Well, each batch takes a pound of butter, a half-pound of flour, a quarter-pound of sugar. Oh, and winterdrops. That’s what makes the cake smell so good. For different flavors like roseberry or lemonburst, we’ll need different essences. Those can be expensive.”
He paused from his furious scribbling and chewed the end of the pencil. “Let’s see … butter goes for three marks per pound. Flour goes for one mark per pound. I can’t believe I know that now, by the way.” He looked at me with an expression of mock-despair on his face.
I rolled my eyes.
He grinned. “Kidding, kidding …” He continued scribbling and muttering to himself, but then he stopped.
I lifted my head from where I had rested it on my elbow. “What?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t think we can do this after all.”
Chapter 10
Weslan tapped the pad of paper with his pencil. “Essences and spices. We have money for all the basic ingredients, but there's no way we can purchase the special flavorings too.”
Darkness had fallen, and Zel and the twins were upstairs, getting ready for bed. The silence in the bakery added to the tension in the kitchen. I rubbed my forehead. “Spices. Spices.” How could we afford spices and the rental for a market stall?
We needed help. There was only one possible solution.
After Weslan and I finished adding up all that we would need for the new bakery stand, I made my way down the street to Gregor’s shop. I knocked on the door, sweating even in the cooler, evening air. Even from outside, the rich scent of spices, sugar, and wheat emanated from his shop.
Gregor opened the door a crack and then hurried me in with a broad smile. He locked the door behind me. “Ella!” His jovial mood was at odds with his behavior. “What can I get you?”
I remembered the day Gregor’s wife, Calista, was taken by the plague. She was one of the first to die on our little lane. Before she took ill, Gregor and Calista were always at our bakery, sharing meals and gossip, talking late into the night with my father about mages and equality and other speculations too deep for a child to understand. Gregor and Calista were petite, wiry, and dark-skinned. Their dark brown hair was dusted with strands of white. Older than my parents, they were always full of energy. Joy radiated from them, enveloping everyone they met.
Back then, Gregor brought me little trinkets from the other cities, gifts from his trading contacts. When the plague came from the West, we had to burn everything from there, by royal decree, to destroy the imported goods that had carried the plague into the city. No one could take any chances. I threw the trinkets into the raging bonfire in the middle of the street, too scared and overwhelmed to cry. The fire that night smelled of burnt spiceberries and winterdrops—the scent of Gregor’s imported inventory going up in flames.
In the first few days of the plague, G
regor lost his wife, his riches, and his livelihood. We were all he had left. Not long afterward, my father died, and the same was true for me.
I looked around his shop, wondering why it felt different. It was much darker than usual. “What’s that on your windows?”
Gregor shrugged. “Some men from the tavern got a little rowdy the other night. They’re all broken, but it’s fine. I had these boards handy already.”
The shutters closed on the other side, so I hadn’t noticed. “Gregor …”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry, Ella. They’ll lose interest eventually and find someone else to pick on. For now, who needs bright front windows in this hot weather? I’ve got the back door open for a breeze. This way, my place stays cool.” I smiled at him, unable to resist his kind face for a moment, and then I felt the smile drop from my face.
“What’s wrong, Ella dear? They giving you a hard time at the bakery too? Need any help patching things up?”
“Actually …” I told him about our idea for the bakery stand at Theros Street Market. “But we don’t have the capital to buy the ingredients and get started.”
Gregor beamed and clapped his hands together. “Say no more, Ella girl!” He rubbed his palms together. “How’s this? I’ll give you the ingredients for now, and you can pay me back once you’ve started to turn a profit.”
My mouth dropped open. I’d been hoping for a small discount. “Gregor, no! That’s far too—”
“It’s exactly what you deserve, and you know it. If you hadn’t take a chance on me when the trade routes reopened, I’d have no ingredients to sell today.” He slapped a hand on the counter beside him. “You give me your list, and I’ll see to it by tomorrow night. And no more arguing. Understood?”
“Y-yes,” I said haltingly, swallowing against the lump in my throat.
“Ah, none of that,” he said, wrapping one warm arm around my shoulders. “I believe in you, Ella. Always have. Let me do right by you.”
~
“Don't argue now,” Weslan said, “but I have an idea for how we can draw a crowd of customers at the market.” He’d been in a good mood ever since I got back from Gregor’s with the news.