Jane led her aunt up the narrow staircase, supporting her elbow when she stumbled on the top step. The bed was wide enough for two people. It would work out just fine, so long as Cecelia didn’t end up being the type to hog space. Jane doubted the older woman could even manage it at the moment, given how much each movement seemed to cost her.

  "This will do fine." Cecelia sat on the edge of the bed and began unlacing her boots. “Is that a bath?"

  "It is. The water comes out cold, but I can heat it for you if you want."

  "Don't bother. I'll handle it myself." Cecelia was already on her feet. "I've been feeling half-washed ever since the lake. I can spare some power to do this properly."

  "Are you sure? You can barely stand."

  "I can stand well enough to lie down in a bath. And heating water is hardly taxing work." Her aunt waved her off. "Go about your evening. Don’t hurry. I’m sure I'll be asleep before you come back up, anyway."

  "Right. I'll just be downstairs, then."

  The sound of splashing water followed Jane down the stairs. Not long after, a little flare in the local magic told her that Cecelia had heated the water just shy of scalding. Jane smiled to herself as she made her way to her workspace behind the counter, where her cookbooks and notes were waiting.

  Now that the day was over, she found she wasn’t particularly tired. The long rest and the good food had done their work in replenishing her stores, and her mind was buzzing with thoughts about her relationship to baking. She lit a lamp and settled onto her stool with the more scientific of her two cookbooks.

  She wasn’t looking for recipes and specifics today. That had felt more important before, but now, she had built out her recipes so much that she was starting to have a bit more confidence in her own skills. She knew she would be able to pick up protocols for new recipes pretty easily.

  There was a reason why she hadn’t looked at Felicity Cast’s book in days. She still needed it, but having mastered the basics meant she needed it much less.

  Now she was looking at it with new eyes, trying to figure out a simple enigma.

  When she started down the path of baking, she had used magic as sparingly as possible, and only in the faintest and easiest-to-hide ways. She had singed the top of a loaf here or cooled down a too-hot flame there, but nothing that risked people finding out about her magic. She had expected disaster if they did.

  But that's not really necessary anymore, is it?

  Everything had changed. The whole town knew what she was now. Her aunt was here to handle the serious magical work, at least in theory. There was no secret left to keep, and no reason to pretend she was an ordinary person fumbling through ordinary tasks.

  I can use my magic. But how can I use it?

  She wasn’t interested in anything like the big, dramatic spells she had used in the recent crisis. Those would always cost more than they were worth, and a responsible mage kept a reserve of power for emergencies, regardless of circumstances. But the small things, the everyday conveniences that made a mage's life easier, seemed like they could be helpful if she could figure out how best to use them.

  Jane held up her hand and let a small flame manifest. Other than a slight ache to remind her that she wasn’t fully healed yet, it cost her almost nothing. Fire was aligned with her nature. Kinetic energy and thermal transfer were the domains where her magic flowed most freely.

  She thought about what that meant for baking.

  Temperature control was everything in an oven. Too hot, and things burned. Too cold, and they didn't cook through. The scientific cookbook had taught her to work around this with careful fuel measurements and timing. However, even Felicity Cast’s best attempts at precision were still approximations. They were approximations refined through experience, but never truly precise.

  With magic, Jane could probably know the exact temperature of her oven at any moment. She could adjust it with little more than a thought. She could create the perfect conditions for any recipe, every single time.

  She opened her notebook and started writing.

  Automatically kneading the bread was probably out. It required a kind of fine, active control that was honestly easier to achieve by hand. Oven control was in. Encouraging yeast to work faster was in, and she could think of five different ways to do it.

  Above her, Jane heard the bathtub drain and the sounds of someone all but crashing into bed. She would let her aunt sleep. There was a lot of work to do, even if it was only theoretical for now.

  She could rest when it was done.

  —

  Jane woke to the smell of tea and the sound of humming from somewhere downstairs. The bed beside her was empty. She had gone to sleep late, and the sun was already bright enough to have woken her as it pushed its way around the edges of her curtains.

  Aunt Cecelia’s probably been awake for hours. I wonder what she’s been up to.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Jane stretched experimentally. Her body felt good, really. The deep exhaustion that had settled into her bones after the dragon incident hadn’t reasserted itself, even after the activity the day before. This was a good sign.

  Now for the important test.

  Magic was like a second body, one that could be broken and hurt in its own ways. Jane had experienced that particular misery before, having overdrawn her magic during mistakes at the academy. She considered it worse than being physically sick. It was a hurt that sat deeper down at a more fundamental level of being, gnawing like a minor burn that wouldn’t stop itching until it was fully healed.

  She held up her hand and focused on the simplest possible spell again, just a tiny flame dancing on her fingertip. The magic came easily, flowing through her with only the faintest whisper of resistance.

  Good. Very good.

  She let the flame die and turned her attention to the room. Her nightclothes from the previous day were draped over a chair where she had left them, wrinkled and in need of washing. A thin layer of dust had accumulated on the windowsill during her days of neglect. The floor could use sweeping.

  She started with the dust. Reaching out with her will, she called up a gentle current of air. It required more finesse than a whirlwind, which also made it an excellent diagnostic tool. The magic responded smoothly and gathered the dust into a neat pile that she could deal with later. Better yet, it didn’t hurt.

  This was the kind of everyday magic she had been thinking about the night before, the small conveniences that made a mage's life easier. It felt good to use them. A chain of similar successes followed as she slowly neatened every part of her room that magic could easily touch.

  She was just finishing up when she heard footsteps on the stairs.

  "Ah, you're awake." Her aunt appeared in the doorway, a steaming cup in each hand. "I made tea. It's not good, but it’s hot.”

  "You've been up for a while."

  "Hours. I don't sleep much these days. But it was enough." Cecelia handed over one of the cups and settled onto the edge of the bed. "You look better. How do you feel?"

  "Good. Really good, actually." Jane took a sip of the tea. It was badly over-steeped, but not enough to make it truly undrinkable. "I tested my magic just now. It's mostly recovered."

  "Mostly?"

  "There's still some resistance, but it's functional."

  "Good." Her aunt held her hand over Jane and cycled some magic. "You do feel much less raw. I’m glad it wasn’t worse, honestly. It could have been.”

  They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, drinking their tea and watching the early morning light creep across the floor. Jane studied her aunt's face, looking for the exhaustion that had worried her so much the day before. There were still shadows under her eyes, but they seemed lighter now.

  "What's the plan for today?" Jane asked.

  "For me? I need to find proper lodging. I can't very well sleep in your bed forever." Cecelia smiled. "For you? I believe you have a bakery to run."

  "Bella said I had to wait until the doctor approves it."

  "Then get the doctor to approve it. You're clearly well enough." Her aunt paused for a moment, reconsidering. “Actually, I’m not the best source of advice for this sort of thing. Listen to your friend and the doctor. I’m sure you can find something more interesting to do if you put your mind to it. I would like to meet your young man, if there’s an opportunity.”

  “Maybe. He did introduce me to his mother without warning, and I’ve not taken revenge.”

  Her aunt laughed. They giggled together for a while over little scenarios they might subject the tinker to before it was finally time for her aunt to start the long work of settling into her own life in Glenfall.

  Jane listened to her aunt's footsteps retreating down the stairs, then set aside her tea and began getting dressed.

  —

  When Jane made her way downstairs a few minutes later, she was half-worried about what she might find. Her aunt had been alone in the bakery for hours, and the woman’s curiosity was legendary. Jane steeled herself to discover all her bowls and utensils moved as a result of Cecelia’s examination.

  Instead, she found the kitchen exactly as she had left it the night before, with nothing out of place except for a single teacup sitting in the sink.

  She really did just make tea and wait. That's almost worrying.

  The display tables sat empty, the counter was clean, and the delivery cabinet outside would be bare until she started baking again. There was nothing that needed doing. Her time was free, unleashed from any responsibilities.

  The thought left Jane feeling slightly lost.

  Bella would tell me to rest. The doctor would tell me to rest. My aunt would tell me to do whatever I wanted.

  What she wanted, she realized, was to go outside.

  The morning air felt good on her face as she walked, heading in the general direction of Bella's breakfast stand. The streets were busy with late-morning activity. Everyone she passed greeted her in some way or another.

  It was strange, being recognized. She had tried to be invisible, but had never been too successful at it. Now it was clearly impossible. She wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that.

  When Bella's stand came into view, Jane saw it was dark and empty. The grill was cold, the counter was bare, and a small sign hung in the window that read ‘Back Tomorrow.’

  Of course she had things to do. I slept through the entire morning.

  Jane turned away from the empty stand and started walking again, this time with no particular destination in mind. It didn’t take long for the effort to prove its worth. Her stomach growled in response to the scent of meat and vegetables cooking nearby, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything yet that day.

  She followed her senses and hunger to a small stand, where a woman was flipping a warm sandwich on a flat griddle. Jane ordered it right away and was eating within a few minutes. It felt slightly adulterous to get a breakfast somewhere other than Bella’s, but the salty, savory sandwich put her worries out of mind right away. It was really quite good.

  Jane stood at the counter and watched the woman work as she ate. While Bella was all energy and enthusiasm, this woman was calm efficiency. It was closer to Jane’s own cooking style, or like the giant baker’s from the day before. She tried to learn what she could from it, but found herself so distracted by the sandwich that she gave up the idea soon.

  Her gaze drifted to watch the crowd flow past. It occurred to her that she had been in Glenfall for weeks now, and she had seen remarkably little of it.

  Suddenly, she knew what she was doing that day.

  Jane finished her breakfast and began exploring, simply strolling down any street that struck her fancy. Before too long, she was drawn by a fresh smell to a soap store, which she entered lazily. The shelves were filled with bars and bottles and jars of every size and color. She wandered the aisles, picking up soaps and holding them to her nose. The variety was almost overwhelming.

  “I’m sorry. Can you help me?” She waved the young man behind the counter towards her. “I want some things for my bath, but I don’t really know what to get.”

  The young man was more than happy to help. What had seemed like a potential crisis of indecision dissolved as he pointed her towards several customer favorites. Jane found them all to be more than acceptable, and ended up buying a few bottles of hair products, some soaps, and even some cloths meant for scrubbing. She paid and arranged for them to be dropped off at her home later, leaving her free for even more wandering.

  Only this time, as she left the store, she found she had a definite destination in mind.

  .