Page 2 of A Queen's Game
“Then let me do this, no questions asked.”
Tilan held her defiant stare. “I love you, Mar. I’d support you through anything.” His gaze drifted back to the bakery. “Have you thought of a name yet?”
“A few, actually,” she said with a smile. “The one I like the most is Rise Above.”
“Seriously? Rise Above?” He laughed.
“Yes, Rise Above. What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s cheesy.”
“That’s the point. It’s so tongue-in-cheek that it’s good.”
“I’m not sure how that works.” He bit back another laugh.
“It’s so bad that—will you stop laughing?” She swatted at his side. “It’s so bad that it’s unforgettable. People will remember it.”
“I mean, you are the expert,” he said while wrapping his arms around Marietta.
“That’s right. I’m the expert.” She kissed him, her heart light.
He pulled away, gazing down at Marietta. “I’m proud of you, my love.”
Her heart flipped in her chest, pulled with emotion. This man would have supported her through anything. Marietta felt confident in opening her own business, but it was nice having Tilan’s encouragement—to share that moment with someone who loved her unconditionally. Who didn’t only think of his wants and desires.
Marietta gazed into his eyes as he pulled her into a hug in the middle of the dimly lit street. The lightness in her chest spread throughout her body. Together, they could do anything, and they would have the rest of their lives to prove it.
Chapter Two
Marietta, Two Years Later
Marietta groaned as she stood from the pastry case with her back tight and feet aching. Sweat coated her light brown skin, causing her stray hairs to stick. Despite the long day, she couldn’t help but smile—the new pastry was a best seller again. Today made it the third day in a row that it sold out.
She threw open the door to the kitchen, finding one of her workers mopping the floor. “You’re still here, Kith? I told you I could take care of the rest.”
The young half-elven girl shook her head. “There’s still work to do—”
“And I can get it done. Now, go. It’s way past when you should have left.” Marietta shooed Kith toward the back door, where she discarded her apron and hung it up with the rest. It was one thing for Marietta to exhaust herself with her own business; never would she allow her employees to do so. They were here to train under her with the goal of one day owning bakeries of their own. How would they become competent bakers if they were exhausted every day?
Crazy to think two years ago, she had opened the bakery. In that short time, it had already become a staple in Olkia. Each morning, they had a line of customers waiting for them to raisethe shutters and unlock the door. Many come to place future orders, meaning Marietta was often booked a month out. Her community supported her and Rise Above, and she was eternally grateful.
Marietta took the mop and finished the last section of the bakery. Her thoughts strayed to the pastries they had prepped for tomorrow, knowing that the morning wasn’t far off, though she wouldn’t have traded this life for anything. The days were long and hard, but they were hers. It was always her choice on business decisions. Marietta was right where she felt comfortable—in control.
That control extended to who she trained as well. After all, she had a legacy to pass on—the methodology of baking with empathy and love. To some, a loaf of bread was simply bread. To others, it was a meager meal or a chance to share a table with loved ones. During her training, Marietta had learned that even the most mundane baked good could brighten someone’s day. She took that to heart and was sure to donate what extras she had to those who needed it. Not only was that what she taught her apprentices, but they also came from walks of life that understood that a loaf of bread could mean everything to those who had little.
A booming laugh broke up her train of thoughts from the back door. Was it already that late? She wasn’t expecting Tilan and Pelok for another hour.
“If you think that’s bad,” Tilan said, pushing open the door with his head turned back towards their friend behind him, “you should hear what Dom had to say.” Tilan’s voice rasped from another day at his smithy. Per usual, his hair frayed from his knot. His clothes were ashen and dirty, and his fingertips stained black.
Behind him laughed Pelok, Tilan’s oldest friend. Tall and broad with dark olive skin and dark hair, he towered over Tilan.
“Though I’m sure what Dom said was nothing short of hilarious,” Marietta said, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached her husband, “I would like to know why you brought this freeloader over.” Her chin jutted towards Pelok, who rolled his eyes in merriment.
“Says the woman with the clogged drain.” Pelok shook his head, a smile curling to his lip.
“I know I said I would do it,” Tilan interrupted, pausing to kiss Marietta, “but Pelok offered to take a look. He’s had similar issues at The Dog in the past.” The Dog was short for The Lonely Dog, the tavern Pelok owned and operated. The same tavern that sent her to Tilan all those blissful years ago.
Pelok had been Marietta’s client when he sent her to Tilan’s smithy, explaining his lack of monetary organizational skills and failing to mention Tilan’s gift. What he lacked in organization, he made up with talent. Marietta accused Pelok of setting them up, but they always denied it. From the moment they met, there had been something special about Tilan, as if someone knew they’d make perfect partners for one another.
