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Let the male work, Ginger said from where she draped across my shoulders. She’d slunk out of the forest when we left, grumbling about damn sprites and ribbons. Tell him to make enough for me. I paid my biscuit penance, and I’m starving.

“Ginger wants some,” I said.

Goran paused in his cooking, though he didn’t turn my way. “She’ll get a bowl.”

I like this ogre, she said. Very much. We might keep him.

“Don’t go there,” I hissed under my breath.

Goran’s ears twitched, but he didn’t turn or comment.

The Bram news broke the next day, at the bakery, after closing time.

Goran would be here soon to pick me up, and Asha, Aris, and I were splitting a late pot of tea at the bakery when the bell out front rang.

Bram Weatherby came through the door glowing like a faelamp.

“She’s back,” he announced. “Odile. She rode in an hour ago. My love. She’s at her mother’s. I’ve just⁠—”

Odile Fern had been apprenticed since spring, which was a long time to hold a nineteen-year-old’s heart. She hadn’t been due home until the thaw.

He braced a hand on the door frame, his face full of excitement. “The job finished early. She’s back.”

Asha jumped up and wrapped a seed cake in a cloth for him, handing it over. “You must be happy.”

“I sure am.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“Spring. She said spring. She said—” He laughed and ran his free hand through his hair. Then his hand flopped to his side, and his face fell along with it. “Oh no. The booth.”

“What about the booth?” Aris asked.

“I can’t.” He gestured, cake in hand. “We’re promised. As of an hour ago, we’re promised, and a man who’s promised doesn’t sell his mouth for coppers, not even for a roof. A cheek was one thing.” His face reddened. “But everyone voted for mouth. I’ve been trying to find a way to back out of it, and I am.” He lifted his chin. “No kissing anyone but Odie. I’m sorry. I’ll build stalls. I’ll haul water. I’ll take any work you’ve got. Just not the booth.”

“It’s no problem,” Aris said.

“Good. Thank you.” He yanked off his cap, gave us a bow, and fled.

“The booth was going to be the roof’s best earner,” Asha said, frowning at her half-finished tea.

Aris scratched her shoulder. “Right now, the booth is earning nothing if it has no kisser.”

“The booth will have a kisser.” Asha’s tone made me put my cup down.

Across the darkening square, by the fountain, Goran was loading his wagon.

Turnip stomped his feet. Fair weather was coming if I was reading the beast right.

Goran would be ready to leave soon. He’d stride over and hover in the doorway, taking Bram’s prior position, though with much less chatter, his attention focused solely on me.

Term one of the pact, in public.

Aris wiped her hands on her thighs and got up, walking over to stare out the bakery’s front window. “I have an idea.”

“No,” I said.

“I haven’t said anything yet.”