He looks down at my hand on his arm and raises his eyebrows. I let go, my cheeks going hot.
“Sorry,” I stammer. “I’m just excited for you…”
“Of course, sweetness.”
He touches my shoulder and rubs his thumb over the little cats embroidered into the fabric. I’m having trouble breathing evenly. Releasing me, he heads to the bin near the door to the front of the bakery. A half smile pulls up one side of his lips, and he rubs his hands together, dislodging flour from his talons and palms.
“It would be interesting to find out why we are so rare,” he says, “and what our culture was like when it was flourishing. I’m assuming that because that castle belonged to a dragon, then we must have flourished at some point.”
“Makes sense.”
“Eh, Kaya!” Tully’s muffled voice carries through the closed front door.
I hurry out, Cyrus beside me. Laini is there too. They are my two closest friends, aside from Cyrus, and they’re opposite sides of the same coin. Tully is unrestrained, loud, and outgoing. Laini has a shy personality and keeps pretty quiet unless someone stirs her up. Both are worth more than gold to me. They’re always there when I need them, and they crow about my pastries and breads to everyone they meet. I probably have them to thank for Lady Egrettington’s order.
I unlock the door, and they walk in, sniffing like hounds.
“Can I take a stale chocolate croissant off your hands?” Tully asks as she hurries to my display cabinet.
“Sure. Take whatever you like.”
She sets a coin I didn’t ask for on the countertop, then dives into the display.
Laini hugs me and smiles widely at Cyrus. “What’s going on? Why did you close early?”
I fill them in on the big order and how Cyrus offered to help.
Tully takes a big bite of her treat and eyes Cyrus. “That’s good of you.” Her look says she is surprised.
Laini nods and picks up Sio. “Need two more sets of hands? I can’t move forward on my tapestry today.”
“Waiting on wool?” I ask.
“Aye.”
“I’d love more help.” I glance at Cyrus to make sure I’m not hurting his feelings by accepting their offer, but he seems unruffled.
A bang sounds, and we see Laini’s dragonfox bumping his head into the door’s window glass. Laughing, I open it up and he flies in.
“Sorry about the lock, Spark,” I say to the dragonfox.
Sio jumps from Laini’s arms, and the two magical creatures spend the next hour happily chasing one another, surrounded by ten more maplecats that I allow to slip in. The rest of us work on another batch of scones, more icing, and the packaging I’ll need to transport the goodies to Kingstown.
I measure out some butter and flour while Cyrus works the last hunk of dough I mixed up.
“You’re getting good at that,” I say to Cyrus.
His wings tuck in tightly and he grins over his shoulder. “Right? I might have missed my calling.”
Tully is laughing and shaking her head as she folds a half sheet of oiled parchment so it will fit six scones neatly for travel.
“What?” Cyrus stops working the dough and looks her way.
The witch shrugs. “I could never imagine you living a baker’s disciplined, quiet life.”
“You don’t know. I might get tired of all the noise next door.”
“Really?” Laini asks Cyrus as she sweeps some spilled flour out the back door.
