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“You know, Victoria keeps telling me these absolutely hilarious jokes. I think I see where Deryn gets some of her humor.”
Seren snorted and jogged to catch up.
“You mean ridiculous jokes. And Deryn’s sense of humor is god-awful.”
“It is not! Neither is Victoria’s. Like yesterday, as I was looking for bay leaves for the stew, she asked if I knew that there’s a new trend among the ladies nowadays, that they place a bay leaf in the gusset of their underwear.”
Seren stopped in her tracks and stared. Lark half turned to her and smirked.
“Well, I stole Victoria’s thunder and whatever comeback she had lined up by telling her that I didn’t beleaf it.”
Seren’s laughter echoed off the cliffs and accompanied them all the way to town.
14
LARK, FOCACCIA & MORE JOKES (AT MARSHA’S EXPENSE)
TOMORROW!
Dragons Island is coming together for the worthiest of causes! The town hall is opening its doors for the first time in ages—come to think of it, why did Mayor Fowler, disrespected-be-his-name, never make use of the gorgeous spaces within the old building?—to host the island-wide fundraiser for the Refuge.
Mayor Allende has made a very generous donation to ensure that the Refuge is funded for the foreseeable future, but the involvement of the islanders to cement that future and welcoming to the island everyone who needs help is crucial.
So put on your fancy garb, bring your wallet, buy raffle tickets or simply drop a check in the donation box, and enjoy an evening of delicious food, drinks, and entertainment as The Who’s Who of Crow’s Nest and Dragons come together to shine a light on this cause.
Watch this space and watch the zeros on those checks. Oh, and we will publish a Best Dressed List afterwards, so definitely watch this space. We will have pictures.
—Crow’s Caw
“I’m not sure I know what the heck I’m doing,” Lark murmured as she watched the dough rise in the pot in front of her. She sent a little prayer to the dough gods and bread angels, and took it out. It looked all right, she supposed, though she had not baked often and her nerves were getting the best of her. Lark examined it, sniffed it, poked at it, then stretched it, giving it a round shape before letting it rest on the gleaming chrome countertop.
Was it okay? There’s no time to redo it if it was anything but okay.
Lark hated how unsure she sounded even in her head.
Deryn had been very nice to offer her the new bakery’s kitchen for the purpose of baking the sourdough and the focaccia and assembling the hors d'oeuvres Lark had—to her current chagrin—committed to deliver for the fundraiser.
Why oh why couldn’t you keep your mouth shut? Why oh why did you have to yap about knowing how to make focaccia good enough to wow these fancy people?
“Seren used to call them ‘horse divorce,’ and we’d all laugh and laugh.” Deryn peeked over her shoulder and nodded in praise. Lark smiled and swayed in relief. If the dough had Deryn’s seal of approval, maybe, just maybe, she’d be okay.
“I said no such thing. But Mom was called to kindergarten this one time because Deryn could not stop yelling ‘Dumb Fuck’ and nobody was able to figure out why she was screaming it at the top of her lungs. She was trying to say ‘dump truck’ every time one was driving up the road.” Seren leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed, tattoos on full display and the corners of her mouth turned upward. Lark felt instantly hot.
They had been sneaking away every evening these past two weeks and… Well, kissing was an inadequate word for what they had been doing. The feeling of Seren’s lips on her collarbone, sucking and biting and teasing and leaving little purple marks that Lark could not stop looking at and touching in private—
Lark jolted from her daydream.
“Hey! I beg your pardon!” Deryn turned toward her twin, injured pride all over her face.
“You should. Since we’re twins, they’d always assume we were both guilty, though I was never involved in any of these embarrassing entanglements,” Seren answered calmly, only infuriating Deryn more. Before more words could be exchanged, Victoria swanned in carrying a bag of vegetables to the sink.
As she dumped them all in, she looked back at Deryn and winked. “Still, it was better than that one time when Marsha, who always had about as much common sense as would fit in a Coca-Cola bottle cap, asked you if your girlfriend of the day or week or whatever, had PTSD, and you told her yes, but that it was short for Pussy That’s So Delectable.”
Lark’s jaw all but hit the floor. Seren’s shoulders shook in silent mirth, and Deryn puffed out her chest proudly.
“Listen, it sounded like something you’d say, so I was representing you proudly. Plus, it wasn’t worse than when you told that woman the vaginal anti-yeast medication was called the Grointment. She actually went to the pharmacy and asked them for it. I remember us making jokes at her itchy expense for days.”
Victoria did not hide her own glee.