Page 16 of Hex and Scales

The bell above Madame Zephyrine’s shop tinkled softly as Sabine hesitated in the doorway. Warm afternoon sunlight spilled through stained glass windows, painting the wooden floor in jewel tones. The familiar essence of lavender and sage enveloped her like a comforting blanket, mingling with... was that cinnamon? Her nose twitched. Not just any cinnamon—Felix Embers’s signature cookies, the ones he claimed contained “a spark of dragon fire and a dash of heart.”

Her tigress perked up, purring at the mingled aromas. Where there were Felix’s cookies, there was usually good advice wrapped in terrible puns and even worse matchmaking attempts. Still, she needed guidance. These feelings for Ren—they scared her with their intensity.

“Are you planning to lurk in my doorway all afternoons?” Madame Zephyrine’s musical voice floated from inside. “The tea’s getting cold, dear.”

A flush crept up Sabine’s neck as she stepped fully into the shop. Sure enough, Felix sat at the round table with Madame Zephyrine and her twin Neve, looking perfectly at home among the delicate china and floating candles. All three wore knowing smiles that made Sabine’s stomach flip.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt?—”

“Interrupt?” Felix’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “My dear girl, we’ve been expecting you since the flowers started springing up all over town. Pull up a chair! Have a cookie! Tell us all about tall, dark, and draconic.”

“I—what?” Sabine’s mouth fell open as Neve patted the empty chair beside her. “How did you?—”

“Honey.” Madame Zephyrine’s violet eyes danced. “In a town where enchanted roses bloom three months early every time a certain dragon walks past a certain shop owner, there aren’t many secrets.” She poured tea into a delicate purple cup. “Sugar?”

“Two, please.” Sabine sank into the offered chair, the rich aroma of Earl Grey rising in fragrant steam. “I didn’t realize we were so... obvious.”

“Obvious?” Felix snorted, nearly choking on his cookie. “The mystical surge when you two touched yesterday made my fire hiccup. I breathed sparkles for an hour.”

“Felix,” Neve scolded, but her lips twitched. “Be gentle. These matters of the heart aren’t easy for everyone.”

“Heart?” Sabine’s fingers trembled as she reached for her cup. “I wouldn’t call it—I mean, we barely know each other. It’s probably just the mate bond trying to establish itself. Physical attraction. Biology.”

The twins exchanged one of their cryptic looks while Felix muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.”

“Tell me, dear one.” Madame Zephyrine leaned forward, her expression suddenly intent. “What do you feel when you think of him?”

Sabine stared into her tea, watching the liquid swirl. How could she explain something she barely understood herself? “It’s... overwhelming,” she whispered. “When I see him, myheart feels too big for my chest. When he hurts, I ache. I wake up reaching for him after dreams I can’t quite remember, and it feels like I’ve known him forever.”

She drew an unsteady breath. “But that’s impossible, right? Mate bonds create attraction, compatibility. Not... not this soul-deep yearning. Not this need to heal his pain that’s so fierce it makes me want to cry. That’s not natural, is it?”

“Define natural,” Felix said, reaching for another cookie. “Are spontaneously blooming flowers natural? No. Is your essence being powerful enough to make my scales tingle whenever he’s near? Also no.” His grin widened. “Is it natural that you’re both clearly besotted and fighting it anyway? Unfortunately, yes.”

“I am not besotted—wait.” Sabine frowned. “What do you mean, my essence? I’m just a shifter. I shouldn’t have any other kind of power.”

“Sometimes,” Neve said softly, “abilities sleep in our blood until something—or someone—awakens them.”

“Or,” Felix added helpfully, “until you fall catastrophically for a dragon who’s been brooding for eight centuries and clearly needs—ow!” He rubbed his arm where Madame Zephyrine had swatted him. “What? I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.”

“With your usual abundance of tact,” Neve said dryly. She turned back to Sabine. “What my enthusiastic friend means is that profound connections often reveal parts of ourselves we never knew existed. The real question is what are you going to do about it?”

THIRTEEN

Sabine wrapped her hands around her teacup, drawing comfort from its warmth. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Every time I’m near him, I want to... to hold him. To tell him he doesn’t have to carry all that grief alone anymore. But then I remember he lost his mate eight hundred years ago, and I feel terrible for even thinking I could help. Like I’m trying to take her place or something.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Madame Zephyrine’s voice softened. “Do you think the heart has limits? That feelings come with an expiration date?”

“Of course not, but?—”

“No buts.” Neve squeezed Sabine’s hand. “A new connection doesn’t erase what came before—it helps heal, transforms, creates something entirely unique.”

“Like my cookies!” Felix brandished one triumphantly. “Same basic recipe, but each batch is different. Sometimes spicier, sometimes sweeter. Sometimes they explode a little?—”

“Felix.”

“What I mean is,” he continued, undaunted, “when it’s real, it doesn’t have to make sense. It just has to be true.” He fixedSabine with an unusually serious look. “And what you’re feeling that bone-deep certainty, that’s as genuine as it gets.”

“But what if—” Sabine swallowed hard. “What if I can’t help him heal?”

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