The storm had passed.
Not with a thunderous send-off, but with the hush of someone slipping out quietly at dawn. The little town Rosevale of Amarynth Kingdom glistened in the aftermath, its cobblestones wet with memory and promise.
Inside Steam & Sugar, Lavinia was already at work.
While the guard knight had gone out inspecting.
She stood at the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled, braid half undone, her hands deep in dough. The scent of warm milk and butter floated in the air, laced with hints of orange blossom and yeast. The café was still closed, just her and Elias—who had decided to move in with her as a tenant out of freewill and out of nowhere… and the gentle hum of the world beginning again.
"You're up early." Elias said, entering with two mugs of coffee, steam curling up from both.
"I couldn't sleep." She parted her lips without looking up. "Too much storm in my bones."
He set a mug down beside her. "You're making brioche?"
"Mmhmm." She pressed the dough gently, watching it spring back. "It's my Mother's recipe. She used to say it was the only thing sweet enough to silence the court's gossip. She was mocked as the Queen who worked in the kitchen you see."
"I'm sorry to hear that…"
"Don't be. She always told me to don't give a fuck about them, sweetheart." Lavinia mimicked her mother's tone.
Elias then chuckled. "And now you're silencing your own thoughts with it?"
"Exactly."
She reached for a worn, flour-dusted card wedged in a drawer and slid it beside the cutting board.
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Lavinia's Enchanted Morning Brioche – A soft, golden pastry to start anew.
Ingredients:
- 1/2 cup warm milk (enchanted to calm nerves, if available)
- 2 tsp dry yeast
- 1/4 cup sugar
- 4 large eggs
- 3 1/2 cups flour
- 1 tsp salt
- 1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
- Zest of one orange
- Optional: 1 drop "Trueheart" extract (a fairy blend rumoured to encourage honest confessions)
Instructions:
In a large bowl, combine the warm milk, yeast, and sugar. Let sit until frothy (10 minutes). Beat in the eggs, then gradually add flour and salt. Add butter one tablespoon at a time, kneading after each addition until dough is glossy and elastic. Mix in orange zest (and Trueheart extract, if using). Let rise in a warm place until doubled—about 1 hour. Shape into rolls or a loaf. Let rise again for 45 minutes. Brush with egg wash, bake at 375°F (190°C) for 20–25 minutes until golden. Serve warm. Preferably during stolen morning kisses.
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"You're really putting magic in your pastries now?" Elias asked as he watched her fold the butter in.
"Only a little." She replied, smirking. "Nothing dangerous. Just...hope."
The dough was ready. She shaped it into six perfect buns and arranged them on a tray, brushing each with egg wash, then slid them into the oven.
The moment stretched.
She leaned back against the counter, finally noticing how close Elias had come.
He stood beside her now, sipping his coffee, his icy blue eyes a little deeper than usual.
"I meant what I said yesterday." He said quietly. "You're not alone anymore."
Her throat tightened.
"Well, you did decide to move in." She smiled playfully. "But thank you," she whispered, "for staying."
A pause. Then…
"I didn't stay for the café."
She turned to him, heart beating faster. "Then why?"
He smiled faintly. "You'll figure it out."
They stood in silence until the timer dinged.
Lavinia moved first, pulling the tray from the oven with practiced grace. The brioche buns were golden and puffed, their scent wrapping around them like a spell.
She broke one open, steam rising in curls.
Elias took it from her hand. Bit into it.
"Okay…" He said, stunned. "That's the best thing I've ever tasted."
She laughed. "It's just brioche."
"No…" He responded, stepping closer. "It's peace. Warm, edible peace."
Then, before she could retreat or deflect or laugh it away…
He kissed her.
It was soft. Unrushed. As if the magic had finally settled somewhere between them.
Lavinia let herself melt into it, her hand still warm from the tray, his other arm wrapping instinctively around her waist.
When they pulled apart, she blinked.
"That...was unexpected."
"That was enchanted brioche." He teased.
She shook her head, smiling.
"No spell in the world could've made me kiss you back." She said. "That was all me." There was a pause… "But we're moving too fast."
"Is moving too fast unacceptable?"
"Not really…"
"However?"
"Well, let's get to know each other more before we go there. I mean, you have just moving in darling..." She was playful.
He chuckled. "You're right. Got it."
**
The café still smelled of cinnamon and warm brioche. Morning light bled through the windows in stripes. A calm after the storm, if only for a moment.
Lavinia had just placed the first tray of honey-baked scones on the counter when the bell above the door jingled softly.
The man who stepped in did not belong.
His uniform was immaculate. Midnight-blue with silver trim. Not a wrinkle in sight. Polished boots. Gloved hands. The insignia on his chest—a crescent dagger crossing a crown—was unmistakable.
Her breath caught.
The Crown's Whisper. Her father's elite network of royal spies. Silent enforcers who made threats disappear and princesses vanish.
The very man from the other day.
Is back.
"Princess Lavinia of Hazeldale…" He said smoothly, tilted his head, and removing his gloves. "Or should I say... Baker Lavinia of Steam & Sugar?"
Sir Corwin had been sharpening his blade upstairs after his return from the inspection. He moved like lightning down the staircase the moment he heard that voice. Elias, at the till, is all ready to fight, fingers curling beneath the counter, where he kept his spellglass holster.
"I'm not going back." Lavinia said quietly.
The man didn't blink. "It's not a matter of going back. The Crown requires closure. Loose ends attract enemies. You've attracted many."
His gaze flicked to Elias, then to Corwin, who stepped between them with drawn sword.
"This is a private establishment." Corwin growled. "Orders from the kitchen say you're not welcome."
"I have orders too." The man replied, voice too calm. "And I carry the authority of the Regent King of Hazeldale."
"Then ask my cousin to come and get me himself!" Lavinia snapped.
He took one step forward.
The candles guttered.
Sir Corwin struck first.
The clash of steel rang sharp, precise. The man was fast—unnaturally so. A flick of his hand summoned a blackened steel dagger, which he wielded like it was part of his wrist. He dodged, parried, ducked under Corwin's swing, and almost sliced clean through his pauldron.
Elias muttered a quick incantation. His spellglass glowed, releasing a blast of violet light. The man flinched, staggered—just for a moment—but it was enough for Corwin to drive him backward into a chair that shattered beneath the force.
Lavinia stood behind the counter, heart pounding. She reached under the sink and pulled out a single crystal of warded mint essence—something she'd brewed long ago for headaches, but concentrated for magical clarity. She crushed it in her palm and blew it into the air.
The man choked.
He staggered again—eyes watering. The combination of Elias's spell and her herbal burst made him lose his footing.
Corwin didn't hesitate. He disarmed him with a brutal twist and slammed him into the back door, blade to throat.
"If you ever come near her again," Corwin hissed, "you'll regret wearing that crest."
The man spat blood. "The next Whisper won't be so kind."
Elias flicked his wrist, casting a binding glyph on the man's boots, locking him in place. "Tell your King that his cousin has a new court. And we serve fresh justice with our coffee."
The man vanished in a shimmer of smoke and shadow—vanishing magic, older than most spells. But he was gone. For now.
The room went still.
Corwin leaned on the counter, catching his breath. Elias wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. Lavinia simply stared at the shards of the chair, the door, and the man who carried her past like a knife beneath his coat.
"I'll make something." She said softly, voice trembling. "Something warm. Something with chocolate."
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☕ Lavinia's Mint Chocolate Velvet Brew
Perfect for post-infiltration exhaustion, near-assassinations, and late-morning soul healing.
Ingredients:
- 2 cups whole milk (or cream-infused milk for richness)
- 1/2 cup chopped dark chocolate (70% cacao or higher)
- 1 tbsp Dutch-process cocoa powder
- 2 tbsp sugar or honey
- 1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
- 1/4 tsp peppermint extract OR 1 tbsp muddled fresh mint leaves
- Small pinch of sea salt
- Optional: whipped cream, chocolate curls, edible gold leaf
Instructions:
In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, gently heat the milk over medium heat until steaming but not boiling. Whisk in cocoa powder, sugar, and salt until fully dissolved. Add chopped chocolate and stir constantly until smooth and creamy. Stir in vanilla and peppermint. Let it simmer gently for 2 more minutes. Strain if using fresh mint. Pour into mugs. Top with whipped cream and chocolate curls—or a dash of courage.
Best served with a warm friend and a sharper sword.
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Lavinia passed the mugs around, and they drank in silence for a moment. Outside, the sun returned to its place in the sky. Inside, the warmth returned, too.
"Do you think he'll send more?" She asked.
Elias nodded. "Without a doubt."
Corwin took another sip. "Let him. Next time, I'll use the big sword."
Lavinia laughed softly—then pressed a kiss to Corwin's cheek, just beneath the bruise. "Thank you for staying."
"I'll stay as long as the café stands." He replied, and she believed him.