My heart warmed at the smile that lit up Lila’s face. She leaned in and placed a kiss on my cheek, then turned with a determined nod and made her way out to the streets to confront her destiny. I almost wished she would get chosen. Almost any fate would be better than being bound to the bully Axel. Almost.
Business dwindled and pastries sold out as the villagers filed out to claim their places on the crowded street beyond. The only baked goods remaining were displayed artfully in the large basket we kept as our offering for the elves. Every shop was required to give a contribution of their wares. A donation and a chance to show off. Artisans and craftsman vied for the chance to be taken to the Falls every bit as much as the young maidens. Going to the Falls meant a new life and promisedriches. It seemed awfully convenient to promise such things if those chosen were then cut off from human villages from that time forevermore.
I placed a “sold out” sign in the doorway and faced the mess that was my kitchen, thinking of the little child, Wyatt, with compassion more than anger. Had I truly seen elf ears popping up through the tangle of stringy blond hair, or had that been a trick of the morning light?
I worked furiously in the kitchen, covered in sweat and grease, tucking stray hairs that fell from my cap as I scrubbed.
Music and shouts of delight announcing the Elf King’s arrival filtered in through the kitchen’s thick glass windows. Noon. The elves were right on time.
Mother bustled into the kitchen and looked me over, lips pursed. “They’ll be by before we know it. You and Daisy stay back here in the kitchens.”
I nodded, glancing down at my grease-covered apron and poorly fitted men’s clothes. “Fine by me.”
When father had been alive, we’d hurry outside after we closed up shop to get a look at the last of the elves as they paraded through. Father would hold me up on his shoulders so I could get a better vantage. My jaw used to drop, my eyes gleamed, so unaccustomed I was to their beauty and finery.
Then my father had died.
And I would never look at an elf the same. They were beautiful to hide the despicable evil festering in their hearts.
Mother brought Daisy into the kitchen and shut the door, closing us in while she waited in the bakery to greet the king’s servant.
It was the same as last year—the year after father’s passing. Mother plastered a smile on her face, fluffed her curls, and wore a mask of congeniality to hide the hatred beneath. She was awidow who ran a successful bakery with help from her shy “son” and small daughter. Nothing more.
“Come on, puppy.” I sighed to Daisy as I took her small hand in mine and led her over to the art supplies I’d gathered.
She perked up at her favorite nickname, then pretended to sniff about like a little dog.
“How ‘bout we go color?” I asked.
“Ruff!” Daisy barked and nodded her head.
Daisy loved coloring and painting. If she didn’t have pencils, charcoals, or paint, she settled for flour and milk and the walls. I’d stocked up on art supplies to keep us both entertained while the rest of the village cheered and fawned over the elves and their finery. I tried not to daydream as I lay on the freshly swept kitchen floor, one hand on a paintbrush.
What did it look like out there? What kind of music were they playing? What kind of delicacies were they eating? It always came down to food for me. Our bakery was right next to the dais at the center of the square. We were the last business the elves passed before choosing their craftsman and maidens, gathering their offerings, and leaving our village until the next year. Daisy and I listened with bated breath as the parade grew closer, our drawings scattered around us like the crumpled leaves of autumn.
The king’s elven servant would arrive any minute to accept our offering. It was always the same fiercely beautiful female. I listened for the doorbell, even as a new dread filled my thoughts. My baking was good, almost too good.
What if they took my mother?
I closed my eyes and pulled in a shaking breath. Why hadn’t I thought to make my baking less desirable? I’d reserved the best goods we had to offer.
I cursed myself for my naivety as the sharp, unmistakable chime of the bell pricked my ears. I jumped up as the front doorswung open, filling the bakery with the rowdy adulations of the villagers outside. Everyone was so quick to forget their fear, their unease, as soon as they saw the beauty of the elves. It was the same every year.
The king’s servant’s boots barely made a sound as she entered the bakery. The celebrations outside were muffled with a thud as the door shut with finality.
Daisy and I shared twin grimaces as we snuck over to the window that overlooked the shop and peered in.
There she stood, blonde hair woven in intricate braids, gemstones interlaced with the incredibly soft looking strands. The king’s servant wore a forest-green tunic and tight, leathery leggings. Pants on a female? It was unheard of in the village, but the elves were a curious lot. Her black leather boots tapped a confident rhythm on the worn wood floors. She wore an artfully crafted sword with a sense of familiarity. It was clear she knew her weapon and how to use it.
The king’s servant bowed to my mother. “Well met.”
“Well met.” My mother said with a deep bow. “I have an offering for your king and peoples made with good will.”
“It is well received.” Her voice rang in a musical chime that was somehow sharp and tinted with venom.
This was the same exchange I’d witnessed for years. My mother would hand the female the basket, they’d bow again, and the elf would leave. We’d all sigh in relief, then we’d head out to the Moon Forest and collect our Christmas tree.
But the servant did not leave with her basket. She stood as straight as an arrow and spoke with that tinted voice. “I have good tidings. Your daughter has been found worthy of the honor of being selected as one of our special craftsmen. She will live among the elves in the Undying Lands of Ravensong for the rest of her long and blessed days. She will have an hour to gather her supplies, then meet us in the square for our departure.”
