The Bride Rite: Sea of Trees

Baked Bread & Promises

I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the smell of freshly baked bread, the feel of flour on the palms of my hands, and my fingers sticky with dough. A smile painted my lips as I let out a contented sigh, moving to push the freshly braided loaves into the stone oven-the last ones of the morning. Sweat dripped from my brow at the familiar heat of it.

It was dawn, the light just cresting over the mountains, yet I didn't mind it. I liked working in my father's bakery. I liked getting my hands dirty, and I absolutely adored snagging fresh scraps of buttery warm bread. We were baking cookies today, and my father promised a batch of them could be split between myself and my five younger siblings. I felt my mouth water at the thought of it. The trade caravan had made its way into our small village only a day ago, and sugar was cheaper this season, as the cane was harvested just a month ago in the warmer south of the kingdom, even if our little village was already in the throes of winter. The snow was knee-deep in some places, even to my willowy legs. We sold more bread in the winter due to it. Who could resist fresh-baked warmth?

"Adelaide, your mother needs you in the back," my father grunted, his voice deep and husky as he pushed through the door to our rooms behind the bakery. I swallowed hard, my light orange brows pushing together as I made a face.

"We haven't made the cookies yet, and I will have to take the bread out. Surely, Christian can help-"

"Addie," he said in a voice that was all business. "Don't neglect your chores. I can finish up in here."

Chores always with the chores. My mother was going to run me ragged. I knew she was conspiring against me. Things had become tense between us since I turned down the blacksmith's son at the Harvest Festival. I was practically an old maid at nineteen now, destined for spinsterhood in her opinion.

I wiped my hands off on my apron before pushing a lock of curly autumn hair behind my ear, which had escaped from the buns on top of my head.

"Fine, Papa," I agreed, a small smirk on my lips as I dipped to the side, stealing a loaf of honeyed bread on my way out.

"Adelaide! That is for the customers!" He yelled after me as I pranced by.

"Take it out of my nonexistent wages," I snorted, closing the heavy wooden door behind me before ripping off a bite, moaning as the fresh honey sang on my tongue.

The smell of bread permeated our small house too. It sunk into the wood and hugged the rugged stone. I stepped down onto the cool floor of our kitchen and living room, the hearth busy boiling porridge in our large cast-iron pot.

"There you are, Adelaide. I shouldn't be sending your father to hunt you down. You saw the sunrise, did you not?" I rolled my eyes at this, innocent enough since her back was turned.

"It wasn't much of a hunt, mother. I was in the next room," I sighed, moving to her side.

"You're going to eat us out of house and home if you keep that up, girl," she muttered, her eyes landing on the loaf of bread in my hands as she turned, Anna resting comfortably on her wide hips. My sister's wispy blonde hair was a practical nest of tangled curls.

"Do you want me to take her?" I asked, shoving the loaf into my apron before smiling at the baby, moving forward to pinch her pale cheeks, her skin blooming into a healthy pink, softer than should have been possible.

"You have a lot to do today, and here you are dawdling in the bakery again. Your father humors you too much. You know it won't be yours, and it serves no one for you to get your hopes up. Instead, you should be furthering your skills to find a husband, not filling your head with silly dreams that aren't going to happen, Adelaide," she sighed as if the very idea of me was exhausting. The sweetness of the bread became bitter on my tongue as my temper swelled.