Milla
"Are our orders ready yet, miss?"
"No! You just placed an order for 35 doughnuts! It's going to take a while!"
Milla's morning had begun with a bustle of activity. She had received new customers: the Aurelians.
They were a prestigious, wealthy family from the High-Tier that owned a luxury boutique winery.
As a family of four, they were currently occupying Milla's vintage chairs that she had reserved for her more affluent customers in the beautiful garden tucked just outside her bakery's entrance.
But at this moment, she was painfully aware of the mistake she had made by keeping those chairs at the front of the garden, right where the morning sun and the smell of fresh yeast hit first.
However, ever since they arrived, the mother had not ceased demanding their food, her voice carrying over the hedges.
Their youngest child, a boy no older than four with a face already smeared in expensive jam, was staring at her from his perch on the vintage cushions with a glare that could melt iron.
Milla had to suppress the sudden, violent urge to put extra-sour lemon zest into the specific doughnut he had ordered.
"The glaze is still setting, My Lady!" Milla called out, forcing a sugary-sweet tone that didn't reach her eyes.
But Milla wasn't just watching the Aurelians. Her eyes kept flickering back to the man standing by the garden gate.
Warden Kaelen.
He stood tall, his silver-trimmed uniform pressed so sharp it looked like it could cut glass. Unlike the other Wardens who stomped around in heavy boots, Kaelen moved silently through the shadows.
He was supposed to be "escorting" the Aurelians for their safety, but his cold, grey eyes were pinned on Milla's front door, as if he could smell the secrets.
"Noa!" Milla barked, wiping flour onto her apron.
A lanky fourteen-year-old boy with a messy mop of hair scrambled out from the kitchen.
This was Noa, Milla's delivery runner. He was the one who braved the Lower-Tiers to deliver day-old bread and bulk orders to the dockworkers.
"I'm here, I'm here!" Noa said, nearly tripping over a rug.
"Help me box these, or the Aurelians are going to start eating the furniture," Milla muttered.
Noa started folding boxes, but his movements were stiff. He leaned in close to Milla. "Hey, I saw someone weird earlier when I was dropping off the rye bread at the docks. That tall guy. The one person people say was at the river when the Eira's dad fell ill. He looked like he was about to keel over."
Milla paused, her rolling pin mid-air. She didn't know the boy's name, only the rumours. "Don't spread gossip, Noa."
The bells above the door suddenly clattered as the door was thrown open.
Eira stumbled in, looking like she'd been through a war. She was half-carrying, half-dragging a young man who looked like he'd been carved out of granite and then dropped in the mud.
Despite his exhaustion, he still loomed over the room, his frame making the space around Eira seem to shrink.
"Eira?" Milla dropped her rolling pin. It hit the floor with a dull thud. "What is this? Who is he?"
Eira stared at her. Her eyes were hard, fixed on the boy she was holding up. "Milla, I need the cellar. Now."
Soren's head was down, his dark hair hiding his face, but his hand was clamped white-knuckled over the violet lantern tucked into his belt. He was trying to hide the light, but the bruised colour was already beginning to seep through his fingers.
Noa's eyes went wide. He pointed a shaking finger at the boy. "That's him! Milla, that's the guy from the docks-"
Milla quickly collapsed a flour-coated hand over his mouth.
She didn't know the boy's name, and she certainly didn't know why her best friend was harbouring a dock rat, but she saw the desperation in Eira's eyes.
"Noa, lock the front door," Milla commanded, her voice suddenly losing its customer-service flow.
"But the Aurelians- and the Wadren-"
"I don't care about them! Lock the door and flip the sign to Closed!"
Milla grabbed Soren's other arm, surprised by the sheer weight of him. He was built like a labourer, dense and solid.
Together, the two girls hauled him toward the back of the kitchen, leaving the wealthiest family in the Tier standing in stunned silence.
As the trapdoor to the cellar creaked open, Milla looked at Eira. "You'd better have a very good explanation for why we're kidnapping a fugitive in the middle of my morning rush."
"He has the answers, Milla," Eira said, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and exhaustion. "He's the only one who knows the truth."