Page 27 of I Ran Away to Evil 2
Especially a few months later …
“Brownie!”
The nickname had the bard turning in the streets and smiling at the adorable maid. “Henrietta! Well, aren’tyoufree a lot this month?”
“My mom caught me writing down a recipe.” The maid sighed and took the bard’s arm. They continued walking down the street. “She doesn’t want me baking.”
Brownie had no idea why getting in trouble left Henrietta free for the day, but she assumed the young maid was sent home and just took her sweet time getting there. Whenever Brownie saw her friend a lot, it was usually followed by the maid being absent for a long month or two. For “training.” This happened especially when Henrietta’s mother was particularly upset.
As such, Brownie appreciated the time they did get to spend together.
“Have you considered just running off to be a baker?” Brownie half joked. Apprenticeships were important, but ifshe weretold to give up being a bard, Bronwynn would do just that: run away, get famous, and then come back in triumph!
Henrietta sighed. “I don’t know any bakers. Who would bother teaching a pr—palacemaid to bake?”
“But you’re already familiar with the process?” Brownie asked, suddenly guiding Henrietta in a specific direction in the castle town market.
Henrietta nodded. “I’ve always wanted to know how the castle pastry chef makes all of those intricate desserts … so I’ve been sneaking into the kitchens to watch. I baked my first batch of cookies at six!”
“Did the castle chef like them?” Brownie asked, weaving them through a short alley and then up another street in the market.
The maid tensed. Looking down, she said sadly, “He got fired for letting me try.”
“What?!” Brownie couldn’t believe that someone with a prestigious job like castle pastry chef could be fired so easily. “Why?”
“My mother is a very exacting woman …”
Brownie had pieced a lot together in the time they’d been friends, and Henrietta’s mother sounded both awful and powerful. Maybe even one of the queen’s own personal maids. It would explain the strict tasks and the knife wounds on her friend’s hands. Or that one time Henrietta had been hiding a limp.
Brownie’s Perception wouldn’t have missedthat, and the bard wondered again what Henrietta’s actual job was.
“Then we just won’t tell her,” the bard announced as they arrived at their destination.
Henrietta looked up at her, confused. “Tell her what?”
Brownie gave the girl a huge smile before waving her hand at a cute little bakery bustling with activity. “That you’re helping out at Mira’s Bakery.”
“Wait, what?!” Henrietta stopped dead in the street, and there was a moment, a single small moment, where evenBrownie’sStrength couldn’t pull the girl. Then the maid quickly relaxed as if she hadn’t just demonstrated Strength over fifteen.
Brownie ignored the revealing moment and continued. “I know a great baker who’d love a part-time assistant to help her and her husband out. Now, let me introduce you!”
Henrietta let Brownie drag her behind the shop to the back door. As the maid stood up straight and professed her desire to bake with a noble finesse, Brownie rubbed her arm. The feeling of overwhelmingsolidStrength lingered in her mind.
More than just a regular palace maid indeed.
And where Brownie had helped her, Henrietta had returned the favor a few years later.
“I got a real gig!” Brownie burst in through the back door of Mira’s Bakery, where she knew Henrietta would be working.
Henrietta laughed; her arms covered in flour as she calmly continued kneading a large batch of sourdough. “You’ve had a bunch of gigs. Didn’t Connor start hiring you to play at the tavern since you came of age last year?”
“Not like that!” the bard exclaimed. “I’ll be playing for anoble!”
“Is the new gig better paying, then?” the maid asked, lifting a hundred-pound bag of flour like it was a cup of tea and pouring it into a giant bowl.
“Yes!” Brownie pretended not to notice—just as Baker Mira and Journeyman Jeff, the had decided not to notice—and replied, “They’re offering me a whole silver to play at the Tisbury estate this weekend! They’re having a ladies tea party, andsomeonerecommended me!”
“That’s wonderful.” Henrietta smiled, though she didn’t meet Brownie’s eyes.
