Cair laughed, the sound rich and warm. “You may be old, Ivar, but you are no fool.” They shared a look I couldn’t quite decipher, a secret that I wanted to discover, but I didn’t want to interrupt. Cair must have sensed my intrigue as he pressed his hand to my back, ushering me forward a step. “This is Ivar, sweetheart, the best baker in the entire Otherworld,” he said in introduction, and Ivar rolled his eyes at the compliment, but dipped his head respectfully toward me. “Ivar, this is Luca, my mate.”

“Your Highness,” he said, the words falling from his tongue as if he were greeting an old friend. “Anything you require, you need only ask. I am but your humble servant.”

“Oh… thank you.” I fiddled with the strap of my pack, shifting nervously from foot to foot. The weight of such a promise was unusual to me, especially from a stranger. “And just Luca is fine.”

Ivar smiled politely, though Cair bent forward to whisper a gentle correction in my ear. “As the mate of a prince, it is proper for the people to address you by your title in public, little one.”

“Oh, right! Yes, of course.” My skin grew hot, embarrassment settling like a lead brick in my stomach. I should have known that. “Sorry.”

“You will get the hang of it, don’t you worry,” Ivar reassured me, tone devoid of judgment, and before I could make a joke at my expense, he leaned forward to scoop up a cute little pastry with his cake slice. He placed it on what looked like a banana leaf. “Now, would you be a dear and try these Amber Sunrise tarts, your highness? They are a new addition to the shop, and I am led to believe you have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes, I do.” I frowned. “How did you⁠—”

He winked, and I was definitely missing something. “Intuition.”

I shelved it for now, and took the cake. It had a round biscuit-like base, and a dome on top, covered in an orange mirror-glaze. There were also little details in white and peach, making the icing look like a painting of the sky at dawn.

Ivar made an encouraging sound, and aware that I was in public and supposed to at least act demure, I took a bite. It was like heaven. My teeth sank easily through a layer of shortcrust pastry, a thin sheen of ganache, a cloud of fluffy cream, and…

“Apricot,” I slurred around my mouthful, manners out the window. I managed to swallow before adding, “That’s my favorite!”

“I had some imported from the human realm,” Ivar said. “We have a similar fruit here, same shape and texture, but the taste was never quite right for the tarts.”

“It’s delicious.” I took another bite and sighed happily.