Page 49 of Kissing Potions and Elves
At first nothing happens. I give Lyrion a worried look. “It didn’t work,” I murmur. “I must have done something wrong.”
“Give it a moment,” he whispers, gently squeezing my hand in return. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
I take a deep breath, allowing his steadfast reassurance to bolster me.
Relief floods my veins as delighted smiles spread across the face of each judge, their eyes lighting up with joy.
“How deliciously delightful,” one of them says.
“I agree.” Mayor Finley beams. “Scrumptiously joyful.”
“Positively euphoric,” another exclaims.
Even Ms. Fenwick agrees with a radiant grin. “It’s like a burst of sunshine exploded in my mouth.”
They wait a few minutes for the magic to wear off and then huddle together, whispering as they decide upon a winner.
Silence descends upon the crowd as we await their decision. Unable to help myself, I squeeze Lyrion’s hand even harder as my stomach twists in knots.
After a few minutes, they take a step back and turn toward the crowd. “The vote is unanimous,” Mayor Finley says. He turns back to me, grinning widely. “First prize goes to Isobel Bramble, representingThe Enchanted Teacup Café.”
“I won!” I throw my arms around Lyrion, my heart soaring with happiness. “I can’t believe it! I won!”
“Congratulations, Isobel!” Lyrion spins me around before setting me back on my feet, his eyes shining with pride. “I knew you could do it.”
Mayor Finley steps forward, holding up the first prize ribbon as he grasps my hand and raises both our arms overhead.
The crowd goes wild with applause. I’m so happy I could burst.
As he and the other judges gaze at the crowd, their smiles turn even brighter. Dread crawls down my spine as their eyes flash with an odd intensity and their laughter intensifies, growing loud and obnoxious.
“What in the world is going on?” someone says in the crowd.
Suddenly, they all go silent. Before anyone else can speak, Ms. Fenwick turns to the Mayor. “Let’s run away together, Finley, and make merry mischief together. I’ll pack the ale!”
The crowd gasps as she pulls him into a stunned, awkward embrace.
“My good woman,” he says, gently trying to push her away, “I appreciate your passion, but I—I’m afraid the town charter prohibits such… spontaneous declarations.”
“Oh, Finley!” Ms. Fenwick gasps dramatically. “Surely, you don’t mean that!”
Before he can respond, two of the other judges burst into a heated argument over flowers, their voices echoing sharply across the festival grounds.
“You call those roses in your front yard red?” Mr. Wardly yells at Mr. Jenkins. “I’ve seen radishes with more color!”
“Oh, please! You shouldn’t be worried about my roses when your garden looks so pitiful, Wardly,” Jenkins retorts. “Your tulips droop more than a soggy hat on laundry day. They’re an embarrassment to the entire village!”
Chaos erupts rapidly as they each grab a few of my cupcakes and throw them at one another. I watch in horror as my carefully crafted confections fly through the air, hitting not only their targets but also other random bystanders.
They explode in curious puffs of magical pink glitter, spreading over the crowd like a wave of dust.
“What in the seven hells?” Lyrion curses beside me as we watch the emotional outbursts grow and spread through the crowd.
Tables are overturned and decorations tumble as several villagers grab handfuls of pastries, launching them like weapons at each other, while several others openly declare feelings of love and eternal devotion—reciting poetry and singing, and a few even embracing.
My heart plummets as the emotional mayhem expands, the villagers shouting, laughing hysterically, and arguing fiercely, transforming the festival into complete pandemonium.
“I don’t understand.” My lips part in disbelief as the chaos unfolds, the magic dust spreading through the village square like smoke. “What’s going on?”
