Valiant {Book Two of the Incandescent Trilogy}

Chapter Sixteen: Church Bells Ringing

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: CHURCH BELLS RINGING

"At last, a puzzle not even Sherlock Holmes can solve." Amelia said, almost in physical pain as she pushed herself away from the table, clutching at her side. She swept the paper off the table, "Now, see if you can tell them apart."

"You are entirely capable of assisting."

"Ah, but I hold all the cards." Amelia held up the name cards in her hand, fanning them out so he could view them, but keeping them close enough together that he couldn't see through the paper to see the names. "We have been tasting cakes all morning, and I think that not even you could can determine their flavours. I mean, it doesn't help that they all taste the same to begin with but... Go on. Prove me wrong."

"You are having me use my superior intellect to tell wedding cakes apart." Sherlock said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yes." she said simply. She raised her glass of rosé, dark brow arched, "Go on, then."

"What do I benefit from this?"

"The benefit of being right." she said, leaning back against the counter, elbows propped up. "And, I don't know... Shall we say a favour? Of any sort, though I'd prefer they be legal. They don't have me on an ankle cuff any more, figured I was trustworthy enough, but I'd rather not get another one. What do you say?"

"I don't think I could eat another piece of cake if I tried."

"Come on. For my sake. Try your best. Eight for eight. Hell, if you can get the first five right, I'll give it to you."

"I can tell you alone that the one on the far left is vanilla, the second is coconut. The third is raspberry. Fourth, passion fruit. Fifth, lemon, you can see the rind—"

"Wrong." she said, cracking a smile. "Yellow lime. Which, you would have known if you had tasted it. For the world's smartest man, you really can be a bit of an idiot. Can we just...make a decision? John and Mary tasked us with deciding on a cake. So, please, can we come to a conclusion, and get the Hell out of here? I dislike planning things such as this, and I'm not fond of weddings. I'm thinking, red velvet, white frosting, and with myrtle flower decorations. Match it with Mary's bouquet. They're white too, which she said is what she wanted." She looked to the consultant, Janice. "Is that doable?"

"Anything's doable if you have the time." she said. "How large is the crowd?"

"Oh, we're expecting...How many did Mary say? A hundred?"

"That will be pricey." Janice said. "One thousand, one hundred, and forty pounds."

"What will two thousand get?"

Janice blinked. "On a cake? Can you afford that?"

Amelia furrowed her brows, aware that the hole in her cardigan spoke volumes but her Louboutins should have spoken louder. "Shall we make it three? I need it in two weeks, and I'm rather fond of your cakes. I have a different bakery on standby but... If you can get it done—"

"Three thousand pounds, and it will be ready in two weeks. We'll deliver two hours prior to the reception."

"Thank you." Amelia said, sliding a card out of her wallet as she pushed herself out of the chair. "I'll leave you my card. Send me the bill, will you?" She jerked her head towards the door, Sherlock following after her.

"You just dropped three thousand pounds on a wedding cake that isn't even yours."

"Someone's going to die during this wedding. I figured I should pull out the stops."

"You are certainly confident in your abilities as a sniper."

"I," she hissed, "do not miss. Sebastian Moran is the best sharpshooter in Europe. I, however, am the best in the entirety of the Americas. Trained by the best, after all. Doesn't help that I had, or have rather, a contact that took me to the shooting gallery every month. And drinks."