It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single piece of candy is enough to brighten one’s day, more surely than any spell ever could.

For Laura, though, no amount of sweetness was enough to change the bitter reality. She had known from the start that running the confectionery shop on her own was not going to be easy, but it was all the more daunting on days when business was slow. Lately, those days were beginning to outnumber the good ones.

Belarune City was crowded as always around that time of the year, with the noble families returning from their stints in the countryside and the usual wave of visitors joining in time for the Harvest Feast. The streets were bustling with activity, yet she’d only had a handful of customers walk through her door all morning.

And she knew exactly who to blame for that.

The bakery across the street was busy as usual, and even if she hadn’t learned his timetable by heart, it was easy to tell who was serving the till. Even over the distance and through two sets of windows, Ambrose Waycaster’s tall silhouette was impossible to mistake.

She could just imagine that crooked smile of his charming all the young ladies crowding into the bakery into opening their coin pouches and leaving with more than twice what they were planning to buy. After all, it was no secret that the Waycasters’ revenue had nearly doubled since he’d joined the family business.

His looks definitely brought in the best share of the female customers, but that wasn’t all there was to him. His pastries had been awarded the Golden Medal the last two years in a row, which led even the royal family to show an interest in his creations.

Laura wasn’t going to let him keep that winning streak for long, though. The Harvest Feast was fast approaching, and with it came the yearly contest. That first place was hers, and she would get it by any means possible.

A group of mages passed by, and the color of their robes caught her eye. Eleanor was probably out there too, running around in the same mage purples, and Laura could already imagine the smirk her friend would give if she happened to pass by and catch her staring like that. She tore her gaze away from the window, giving herself a mental scolding. If she had time to sit about, she’d be better off using it to perfect her recipe.

Her workshop was one step away, through an arched doorway hidden behind the tall display case bearing the sugarplums that had scored her second place at the last contest. She had hung the silver medal on the wall next to them, as a reminder that she was this close to greatness. It worked wonders, firing up her determination every time she laid eyes on it.

And it managed that once again, though her motivation faltered as soon as she crossed over into the other room. Her workbench was still a mess from the morning’s rush to finish an order of candied fruits, and the sugar she’d accidentally spilled had hardened on top of her notes. Her mother liked to keep everything sparkling clean, but Laura never managed it, no matter how hard she tried. She needed to tidy up before she could even think about outdoing Ambrose.

The idea didn’t last long, though. She’d just given up on salvaging her sticky notes when the jingle of the bells she kept above the shop door announced that someone had just walked in.

She rushed back, putting on the studied smile she usually greeted clients with, but regretted it as soon as she saw just who had wandered in.

“Why, if it isn’t the young Mister Waycaster!” She couldn’t keep a tinge of sarcasm out of her voice. “What are you doing here in the middle of the day? Shouldn’t you be working?”

His lips quirked into the slightest idea of a smirk. “I’m taking a break. You should try it sometime, Miss Quillspell; it’s quite nice.”

He was infuriatingly put together for someone who, until minutes ago, had been busy serving in a bakery. His clothes were clean, his hair impeccably coiffed, and his face bore no mark of tiredness. Laura knew that couldn’t be said of her.

As she was studying him, their eyes met. He looked away first, and she had to wonder whether he had taken notice of her looks as well.

She’d barely glanced at the mirror that morning, but there was no way to miss the dark circles under her eyes, and she suddenly became self-conscious of her sloppy hairdo. Preparations for the contest had become of the highest importance in her life, and everything else was irrelevant. There was no time for vanity or breaks, and she couldn’t understand how Ambrose could afford them.

“Have you come to gloat?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking. “If so, there’s no need. Everyone and their cat already knows that you’re supplying the royal banquet on Feast Day. Good for you.”

The last bit left a sour taste in her mouth, but she had managed to make it sound almost civil. She raised her eyes back to him, trying to read his face. If his expression said anything, it wasn’t in a language she understood.

His eyes dropped to his hands, and he showed her the square of paper he was holding. “Actually, I’m here to place an order.” His voice sounded almost sheepish, but there was a smile slowly pulling at the corner of his mouth. “It’s nice to hear that you’re taking an interest in my affairs, though.”

Laura blinked, caught off guard. She narrowed her eyes, suspicion creeping into her voice. “An order? For what? A box of chocolates to go with your award-winning pastries? Or are you just here to spy on my work?”

Ambrose chuckled, the sound low and annoyingly pleasant. “Always so defensive. Can’t a man appreciate a rival’s craftsmanship without being accused of espionage?”

“Not when that man is you,” she shot back, though her curiosity was piqued. She glanced at the paper in his hand but made no move to take it. “What could you possibly want from me?”

He shrugged, ever so nonchalant. “The bakery is quite busy these days, and even if that wasn’t an issue, we still can’t make everything in-house. I’m working on some new desserts, and I was looking for a reliable supplier for a few of the decorations I’m planning to use. I thought, since we’re neighbors and all…” He hesitated and looked away for a moment. “But I can always take my business elsewhere if you’re not interested.”

Mere months ago, she wouldn’t have even entertained the idea. But shops needed a steady income to stay afloat, and hers had been struggling for a while. She was forced to let go of her animosity for a moment and rethink her approach. At the end of the day, business was business, and gold coins had the same weight no matter what hand doled them out.

Giving a long sigh, Laura snatched the paper from his hands and looked it over. Even his handwriting was neat, the letters slanted to perfection and each line ended with a little flourish. It was a rather normal list, comprising mostly sweets that she had seen used on cakes before.

“I have the glacé cherries and candied lemons in stock, so those won’t be a problem. The chocolate medallions and fondant roses need some time to prepare. Same for the sugar-glazed almonds.” Her eyes widened as she reached the bottom of the list. “What’s this, wildflower jelly?”

Ambrose nodded.

Laura scrunched her nose and looked up at him. “Is this for the contest? You know too well I don't carry jellies in the shop, and I'm not going to custom-make it for you just so you can use it against me.”

His smirk returned, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something she couldn't quite place. “It's more of a personal project. I'll swear not to use it in the contest if you want me to; anything to get me a jar. Your jellies are the best I’ve ever had.”

The compliment caught her off guard, and she hated how it made her chest warm ever so slightly. She crossed her arms, trying to mask her reaction. “Flattery won't get you a discount.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady. “I'm even willing to pay extra. Consider it a gesture of goodwill between neighbors.”

Laura snorted. “Goodwill? From you? Now I'm sure you're up to something.”

His grey eyes held hers just a heartbeat too long. “Believe what you want, but the order stands. Can you do it?”

She hesitated, her mind racing. Even if it wasn't for the money, which would come out to a pretty sum, she had already gotten too deep into it. Turning him down now would feel like admitting defeat, and that was something she refused to do.

She pulled the pencil from her apron pocket and noted the prices beside each item on the list, plus the custom tax for the jelly. Added together, the numbers were even better than she had initially expected.

“I can have everything else ready in three days, but the jelly would take longer, since I have to get the flowers myself. Here's the final cost for everything.” She pushed the paper back towards him and tapped the number that she had circled.

To his credit, he took in the price with no discernible change in his expression.

“All right. I'll see you in three days, then.” He beamed at her, the same smile she knew had charmed countless girls before, and turned for the door. “Oh,” he said, stopping in his tracks, “I almost forgot to wish you good luck.”

“What for?” Laura asked, half-dazzled by his smile.

“The contest, of course! I'm excited to see what you bring this year.”

Then he was out, leaving Laura to wonder whether his comment was genuine or just another jab. But she didn't let herself linger on it for too long.

The golden medal was waiting for her, and even with her secret weapon in reserve, she still had a lot of work to do.