Page 10 of Bound to the Fae Assassin

“Some gift,” she muttered to herself.

But she was secretly pleased to have a connection with the stranger’s world. There was magic in that bracelet. She was sure of it. And she’d never experienced real magic before.

When the buns were baking and the brown bread dough was rising for the second time, she finally pulled the dried flower from her pouch.

She wanted to make the cheddar chive biscuits, but she couldn’t resist experimenting with the blossoms first. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but she’d fed some to the squirrels on her way in, and then even dared a taste herself, so she was sure it wasn’t dangerous. And it smelled heavenly. It could be just the thing she needed to help her stand out in the competition.

She whipped up a simple shortbread, feeling a little guilty for using so much butter for such a little thing. But she thought it would set off the flavor of the flower perfectly. Before she put it in the oven, she ground the tiniest petal from one of the flowers and added it to the mix.

A few minutes later, it was ready to come out. The whole treat was only as big as the palm of her hand. When it had cooled, she cut it into one-inch bites and placed the whole thing on the back counter, where her food experiments went so they wouldn’t be sold by accident.

She could taste it with her lunch. If it was any good, she would have to identify the flower and figure out how to get more.

Humming to herself, she started the biscuits and had the first batch on a plate on the back counter to cool in no time.

The door jingled, announcing Jericho. Her quiet time was officially over, and the day had begun in earnest.

It was a busy morning, she hardly had time to offer Jericho a chance to sample the cheddar biscuits, which he loved, before she sold them to the university boys.

Old Ben Carpenter came for his muffin, and a gaggle of other regulars stopped by for specialty items between waves of neighbors looking for brown bread.

Plenty of gossip aired as folks waited in line. The King’s upcoming name day was an occasion of much joy and honor for those whose businesses and skills he favored to provide their goods and services for the celebration.

And it was a day of great bitterness for those who might feel snubbed.

Of course, the King kept his own kitchens, so Barton’s Baked Goods had no opportunity to be elevated or belittled in that way. Which was why the competition was so important. It was the only chance she would ever have to get her wares in front of the King.

While Farrow filled orders, the neighboring florist was busy basking in the glory of having been asked to provide roses for the celebration, while the milliner who had created a new hat for the dowager duchess last year had been passed over this year in favor of another.

The atmosphere in the bakery while they each waited for their order was tense, with barely suppressed joy and tears.

When things finally quieted down for a moment, Farrow decided to pop out to purchase more butter, leaving Jericho in charge.

She jogged back a few minutes later with her purchase to find the store unattended.

“Jericho?” she called out.

Assuming one of the regulars must have asked him to carry her purchases out, Farrow put away the butter and then wandered back to the far counter to taste test the shortbread.

But she stopped short when she spotted something on the counter.

“Ugh,” she groaned.

It wasn’t like she didn’t know the bakery had rats. Pretty much every dwelling with food in it did. It was only that she didn’t like seeing them during the day. It allowed her to pretend they weren’t scuttling around at night.

And she definitely didn’t like seeing them dead.

This one had clearly been gnawing at her shortbread experiment. One corner was half nibbled away.

Now the rat lay on its back, stomach horribly distended, blood bubbling and seeping from its yellow maw.

“The flowers,” she breathed.

It was only then that she fully realized what she was looking at. There was the dead rat that had nibbled the shortbread squares, and then died what looked like an awful death.

But there was also an entire square missing from the other side.

“Jericho,” she cried out, sweeping the cake and the tiny corpse into the trash bin.

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