A Wizard's Guide to Defensive Baking

by T. Kingfisher

the red stuff oozing out from under her head definitely wasn’t raspberry filling.

“Aunt Body! There’s a Tabitha—the kitchen—dead, she’s dead—I—come quick—she’s dead!”

Again, people treating me like I was a dog. I had an urge to snarl and go for his ankles, but I couldn’t see that it would improve the situation, however satisfying it might be.

the thoughts were growing. Pretty soon they’d overflow the edges of my skull, and I wouldn’t be able to ignore them any longer.

That giggle went straight into the pit of my stomach and played the xylophone on my ribcage.

I was going to get thrown in the dungeon, at least I was going to leave a trail of quality pastries behind me.

The very best thing about being a baker is watching somebody bite into a blueberry muffin or a fresh slice of sourdough dripping with butter and seeing them close their eyes and savor the taste. You’re making their lives better, just a little tiny bit. It

Death by sourdough starter. Not a good way to go.

I guess really bad people all think they’re using each other and being really clever about it.