Page 47 of Bound to the Fae Assassin

He frowned and waited.

When the last of the sand was almost gone, she signaled him that it was time. He slid in a paddle and pulled out her pan as the hot, fragrant air wafted over them.

It was such a small thing, a plain, deep brown, with no time to cool enough for frosting. She would be relying on the flavor alone to qualify her.

She hurriedly transferred it to a pretty plate, somehow managing not to burn herself. She barely had time for a breath when the trumpets sounded again, signifying that the hourglass had emptied, and time was up.

One by one, bakers carried their wares over to the large table at the front of the tent to be judged.

Farrow placed her little cake down, trying not to let herself notice how humble it looked beside desserts with beautiful sugar work, fruit toppings, and frosting. It wasn’t a beauty contest.

She returned to her table, where Blackthorn awaited.

They watched together as Lady Gwinn returned, to the cheers of the people both inside and outside the tent.

Sounds seemed to fade for Farrow, and she felt almost faint as she watched the venerable old cook taste one dessert after another, speaking for a moment about each of them. Farrow’s was last in line, and by the time it was tasted, Farrow had gotten lost in her own worried mind.

She snapped back as Blackthorn nudged her, and Lady Gwinn’s words began to land.

“This is the perfect example of simplicity, humility, and unusually delicious flavor combinations on full display,” Lady Gwinn said, then stepped back to survey the whole lot once again. “Advancing to the final round of three will be…”

Everyone watched as she pushed forward the cake with the white chocolate swans and sugar work, and a towering fruit and cream concoction.

Finally, she pushed Farrow’s little cake out to join them.

She could hear her parents and Jericho cheering outside, and feel Blackthorn’s hand squeezing her shoulder.

But her own emotion was so intense and complicated that she felt as if the walls were closing in. The tent was too crowded, the ovens just outside too warm…

As everyone celebrated, Farrow ran out through the back of the tent, pushing past the families crowding in.

The cooler air outside filled her lungs, and she ran through the beautiful rose garden until she reached a small stand of trees just out of sight of everything.

It’s finally happening. Just like I dreamed…

The thought was dizzying. She leaned against the rough bark of a massive oak, dragged in deep breaths.

Finally, she collapsed her back against the trunk, closing her eyes to center herself as she felt her heartbeat slowing.

“Farrow?” The worried note in Blackthorn’s deep voice made her open her eyes. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

He leaned in close, his hands on the trunk, caging her in, as if he thought she might run again.

“I-I’m fine,” she told him. “It was just overwhelming. I can’t believe it… I’m so happy.”

His eyes flashed and he bent close, brushing her lips with his as gently as a butterfly landing on one of the roses.

She whimpered, tilting her chin up for more.

He growled and took her mouth, thumbing open her jaw and plundering her with his teasing tongue.

She felt her body melting from the inside out. She clung to him desperately, digging her fingers into his shoulders?

“Farrow,” a familiar voice gasped.

Blackthorn pulled away instantly, leaving her tottering on her feet.

“Jericho,” she murmured, meeting her friend’s wide eyes.

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