Page 30 of This Is Not True Love’s Kiss

Arthon had taught me the importance of this, of laying out expectations and rules and following them, even if you didn’t like them. That was part of being a good leader. Making sacrifices, rising above the noise and being the example everyone else could follow.

Aoife hummed as she slipped on oven mitts.

That wasn’t the only reason I was on edge today. I was also suspicious. I didn’t understand what Aoife was playing at. The dance had no doubt been to anger me, and I was irritated by this bread-baking interruption, irritated that Aoife refused to follow any rules set forth by our manifesto. Yes, the manifesto had been written by Fairwitch, and I understood why Aoife wouldn’t want to follow it, why she’d want it rewritten. But she didn’t understand the huge undertaking that would require. That manifesto guided every single part of our society, and maybe it was flawed, maybe it did need to be stripped down completely and redone, but that was not something that could happen overnight.

It certainly wasn’t something we could afford to focus on right now when we had bigger problems like the brotherhood to worry about, like merging two cultures, like me and Aoife not able to agree on anything.

You’re not doing enough, Lorcan. If you were, the brotherhood would already be destroyed. Your people would be safe, and then you could focus on rewriting the manifesto.

My jaw clenched as I willed that voice away. “Maybe one day we can revisit this⁠—”

“It’s always one day. Never now. Not for things that matter to me.” Aoife shoved past me, taking the last loaf from the oven with her huge blue mitts and dropping it into our basket as she turned, and the waning sunlight hit her face. Her russet skin glowed, her round cheeks slightly pink. She reached up to undo the white apron that hung over her sleeveless tunic, her teeth gritting.

I realized she couldn’t undo the knot. “Here,” I said. “Let me.”

“No, I don’t need your help—” she started, but I was already behind her, my fingers undoing the knot that tied the apron around her neck.

My knuckles brushed the skin under her hairline, and she let out a shudder, stepping away and spinning to face me. “Thank you. How strong are you?” she asked, eyeing my arms.

“I—what?”

She rolled her eyes, bending over, exposing the top of her round breasts underneath her tunic. Her undergarment pushed them up, and heat stirred my blood, such an unfamiliar feeling around my wife.

Aoife straightened, eyeing me with an odd expression, one I couldn’t read. She nodded toward the door that led to the castle gardens. “Let’s go. We have a lot of bread to deliver.”

With that she turned, and I quickly ran ahead of her and down the short set of stone stairs to get the door. I opened it as she marched past me, arms full.

I chased after her, and it finally dawned on me what we were doing. She was delivering bread. Like she had in that story she’d told Chef Elowyn, but why had she wanted me to come along for this?

“I can carry that,” I said.

Her golden eyes crinkled at the corners as she shoved the basket into my stomach. “Good, I’m glad you’re making yourself useful since you almost ruined half our batches.”

I winced. “I’m not a baker. That’s why I stick to what I’m good at.”

We walked along the winding stone path that led through the gardens, tall flowers lining both sides, along with trees of all varieties. Aoife reached up and plucked an apple from a branch, munching on it as we walked toward the tall gates that led out to the city.

I blew out a breath, trying to temper my growing agitation. I wanted to get whatever this charade was over with. I’d be up all night now, making up for lost time. I had documents to review, a new council proposal to go over, not to mention a proposal of my own to write. And a prisoner to visit.

I’d neglected him lately, and I couldn’t any longer.

Meanwhile, Aoife was playing baker, doing godwitches knew what to get under my skin.

Unfortunately it was working.

“Are we almost done?” I asked as she pushed open the iron gates, and we emerged on the cobblestone road that wound around Fairwitch Isle.

“No,” she said with a saccharine smile, taking another bite of her apple.

She walked toward the back of the castle where stone and wooden homes dotted the forested area. We’d had to erect a number of new homes for the Fair Folk, who had been used to living among the forest before our city landed right on their mountaintop years ago. Fairwitch Isle had moved many times over the years as a way of protection.

“Lor.” Aoife had stopped, staring at me with wide eyes.

“What?” I snapped, my gaze clearing as the memories faded.

“You’re clutching that basket so tight you’re going to crush it and ruin all the bread.”

I looked down to see my arms squeezing the basket so tight it was indeed squishing our baked goods. “Sorry. Where are we going?” I asked as we walked off the cobblestone road and toward a home planted right in between tall, thin trees with leafy green canopies.