Never Bake The Black Velvet Cake

“Please don’t explode this time,” Nora murmured softly.

Her hand turned the bronze lever on the magical oven her grandmother had left behind.

Blue flames flickered briefly inside the glass chamber, crackling softly before going out for no apparent reason.

Nora let out a long sigh and patted the flour-stained apron around her waist.

Ever since she had been forced to leave the Valoria Academy of Magic and return home to take over the shop, she had still been trying to figure out how half the equipment in the kitchen worked. Every tool seemed to have a will of its own, one she had yet to fully understand.

Tilly, the tiny fairy in a petal-shaped dress who had been lounging near the corner of the table, immediately clutched the edge of Nora’s apron with teary eyes.

“I told you, this kitchen magic only responds to the touch of the Finch bloodline, Nora! If you give up now, Grandma Martha’s bakery will surely be ruined and seized by the Union!” Tilly wailed through her sobs. “So, please, never give up.”

Nora let out a heavy sigh, abandoning any intention of protesting again about her academic dreams, which now felt so painfully distant.

Before she could reply, the brass bell above the front door rang sharply.

A man stepped into the shop. His appearance clearly marked him as someone who did not belong in this modest district.

A luxurious cloak draped over his shoulders, its collar embroidered with golden thread. His clothes were impeccably tailored, and he held himself with the straight-backed confidence of someone accustomed to having everyone’s attention.

Nora quickly put on a friendly smile behind the glass display case, while Tilly immediately hid behind a stack of flour sacks.

“Welcome to Clover Bakery. Would you like to try our freshly baked honey raisin scones?”

The man approached without a word, not even glancing at the rows of warm pastries behind the glass. His light gray eyes locked directly onto Nora.

“Can you make Black Velvet Cake?” he asked bluntly.

His voice was low and smooth, but it carried an unusual weight.

Nora frowned slightly.

“Black Velvet? I’m sorry, sir, but I’ve never heard of it. If you mean ordinary chocolate cake, we have that.”

“Not an ordinary chocolate cake,” the man interrupted calmly. “I’m talking about an heirloom cake. Martha used to bake it for special occasions.”

Nora froze.

Her friendly smile vanished instantly. She reflexively gripped the edge of the wooden counter to steady herself against the shock.

“How do you know my grandmother’s name?” Her voice had turned cold and wary.

The man slowly removed his leather gloves, revealing clean fingers without even the slightest callus.

“Just call me Aurelius,” he said, introducing himself without preamble. “Prince Aurelius of the Fae Kingdom.”

Nora took half a step back.

Her heart began beating faster as her mind processed the name. One of the royal princes was standing inside her cramped, dusty bakery.

Aurelius placed a thick velvet pouch on the counter. The heavy clink of metal rang clearly as it struck the wooden surface. Inside were pure gold coins stamped with the royal seal.

“This is enough to pay off the bakery’s entire debt, repair the leaking roof, and leave you with enough money to live on for the next ten years,” he said calmly.

Nora stared suspiciously at the pouch of gold.

The amount was far too large to make any sense for a single cake.

“I can’t accept this money, Your Highness. I don’t even know what Black Velvet Cake is, let alone its recipe.”

Aurelius leaned closer, narrowing the distance between them. The scent of expensive sandalwood clung to his clothes, while his gaze demanded an answer that could not be wrong.

“You must search through your grandmother’s records,” Aurelius whispered, his voice quiet but sharp. “That cake is more than just a dessert, Nora. It is the only way to save my kingdom from destruction.”

Nora held her breath.

The air around her suddenly felt oppressive.

The doorbell rang sharply for the second time. At the same moment, the sweet, buttery aroma inside the bakery was overtaken by another scent, burning ash and hot metal that stung her nose.

Heavy footsteps sounded at the doorway.

A man clad in dark silver armor marked with the scars of battle stepped inside. A long sword hung firmly at his waist, and his eyes were fixed directly on Aurelius.

“Aurelius,” he said in a deep, threatening voice.

Aurelius slowly straightened his back and let out a quiet sigh, as though the man’s arrival were nothing more than a tedious interruption.

“Kael,” the prince said flatly. “Apparently, the border hound still has a sharp nose.”

Kael Draven took several steps forward, ignoring the insult. His gaze quickly shifted to Nora before dropping to the thick, leather-bound book lying open near the table.

“Close the book. Now, miss,” Kael ordered coldly.

His jaw tightened.

Nora blinked, confused by the open hostility between these two powerful men.

“Wait, what is actually going on here...?”

“Don’t listen to him, Nora,” Aurelius interrupted calmly, challenging Kael with his gaze. “He is merely a knight afraid of things he cannot control.”

Kael stepped closer until the scent of cold iron became unmistakable near the display case.

His eyes stared directly into Nora’s, their intensity enough to make her breath catch for a moment.

“If you value your life and your grandmother’s legacy,” Kael whispered firmly, “never bake Black Velvet. That disaster should have been buried with the past.”

Aurelius gave a faint smile and calmly retrieved the pouch of gold coins from the counter.

“Think about my offer, Nora,” he said before turning toward the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Kael cast one final sharp glance at Nora, as though making certain his warning had truly sunk in, before finally stepping outside after the prince.

The front door closed with a soft thud, leaving a suffocating silence inside the bakery.

Nora pressed a hand against her chest, trying to steady her wildly racing heartbeat.

Tilly flew out from her hiding place, trembling violently as she let out an anxious squeak.

“Nora, what is going on? Why are the people of the royal court targeting our bakery?”