The bakery was quiet in the late afternoon, the golden light slanting through the windows and dusting the counters in warmth. Marco wiped his hands on his apron, cheeks still flushed from the heat of the ovens.
Carmine leaned against the counter, watching him with a small smile.
"You've got good hands," she said.
Marco raised an eyebrow. "For baking or for punching nobles?"
"Both," she smirked. "But today, we're baking."
Marco tilted his head. "What are we making?"
Carmine stepped forward, pulling a folded recipe from her coat. "Colden's favorite. Spiced honey almond cake."
Marco blinked. "That sounds… royal."
"It is," she said. "He used to sneak into the kitchens as a kid just to steal slices. The head chef would chase him around with a ladle."
Marco laughed. "I can't imagine Colden running."
"Oh, he ran. And he tripped. A lot."
They gathered the ingredients — ground almonds, flour, cinnamon, clove, nutmeg, honey, eggs, and a splash of orange zest.
Carmine tied her hair back and rolled up her sleeves. "Alright, apprentice. First rule: don't overmix the batter. It's a cake, not a brick."
Marco grinned. "Got it."
"Second rule," she said, cracking eggs into a bowl, "always taste the honey before you use it."
Marco dipped a spoon into the jar and tasted. "That's… ridiculously good."
"Vellorian bees," Carmine said. "They feed on citrus blossoms."
They worked side by side, measuring, mixing, and laughing. Marco sifted the flour while Carmine folded in the almonds.
"Why the orange zest?" Marco asked.
"It's Colden's favorite part," she said. "He says it tastes like sunlight."
Marco paused. "That's… kind of poetic."
"He's secretly a poet," Carmine said. "Don't tell him I told you."
They poured the batter into a round tin and slid it into the oven. The scent of spice and honey began to fill the room.
Marco leaned against the counter, watching the cake rise. "Thanks for this."
Carmine looked at him. "You love him. I see it. And he loves you. So if you're going to bake for him, you better do it right."
Marco smiled. "I want to."
She nodded. "Then you're already halfway there."
When the cake was done, they let it cool, then dusted it with powdered sugar and drizzled a thin ribbon of honey across the top.
Marco took a bite and closed his eyes.
"That's… perfect."
Carmine smiled. "He'll taste it and know it was made by someone who cares."
They sat together in the quiet bakery, the cake between them, the warmth of the oven still lingering.
And for a moment, the world outside didn't matter.