Page 79 of Wizards & Weavers
“I don’t mean to put you out,” Elyssandra said, clearly pretending she wasn’t as hungry as she felt. “You really don’t have to. Maybe we can go to the night market really quick.”
“I think we should be here when Augustin comes back. I’m very hungry, too, and we need to eat. Besides, I like to cook. It helps me clear my head. Who knows? I might come up with some ideas up there.”
He trudged up the stairs, the deep ache in his bones fading as he slipped into this smallest role of responsibility, feeding his hungry friend. The fleetfoot spell’s adverse effects were starting to hit her, drawing on her body’s reserves of energy.
It felt nice to have someone who liked his cooking, though Braiden suspected Elyssandra was the type who would enjoy most anyone’s cooking. Still, she liked everything Braiden had ever put on her plate, and that was all that mattered.
He peered through the cupboards, shaking his head at their emptiness. He really needed to do some shopping soon. He checked the ice box, surprised to find some bacon in there. Andhe still had all the ingredients for Granny Bethilda’s Perfectly Plump Pancakes, didn’t he?
“Elyssandra,” he called down the stairs. “It looks like we only have bacon and pancakes. Again. Is that fine for you, or should one of us run out after all to get some — ”
“Yes!” she yelled back, invigorated. “I mean, yes, please. That sounds perfectly lovely.”
Braiden smiled and set to work. This time, he remembered to use the baking powder. This time, he would leave frying the bacon for last, to make sure it was still crisp by the time the pancakes hit the table. He stirred up the dry ingredients, mixed in the milk and eggs, poured the first perfect white circle into a hot, buttered pan —
And then the first tear spilled. And then another, and then the dam broke. Braiden rubbed at his eyes, embarrassed and furious that he would let himself cry like this, scolding himself in case he let the pancakes burn.
It wasn’t supposed to end like this, their grand adventure. All the heroes in all the books — in Elyssandra’s book — they always saved the day. His shoulders trembled as he watched the raw batter bubble and set, the frustration burbling out of his body.
Granny Bethilda would know what to do. But Granny Bethilda wasn’t here.
“Sorry,” came Elyssandra’s voice from much closer by. She stood in the doorway, a small smile on her lips. “I thought you could use some help.”
Braiden sniffled and wiped at his eyes again. “Yes. I could use a little help, I think.”
Elyssandra paced forward and squeezed him. He hugged her back, hiding his tears in golden hair that smelled of flowers. When he was done having a good little cry, it felt as though she’d squeezed all the tears out of him.
“I shouldn’t let the pancakes burn,” he said, flipping the first one in the pan.
“You’re doing just fine,” Elyssandra said, peering over his shoulder. “They still look perfect to me.”
A short while later, the two of them were tucking into bacon and pancakes, very much the same meal they’d shared that morning before their adventure, the morning before they’d tracked down the Wizard of Weathervale.
Even as he ate, Braiden kept eyeing the plate of food he’d set aside for Augustin — kept out of filching reach of the thieving princess, of course. Elyssandra had slid it out of range herself, distrusting her own unintended tendency to steal bacon.
She was washing dishes in the sink and staring out the attic window when she suddenly dropped the scrub brush.
“Augustin! He’s back.”
The two of them raced down the stairs, slowing only long enough to let each other pass without colliding in a tangle. Braiden panted as he rushed for the front door, nearly beating Augustin to the bell.
But from the slope of his shoulders, the gloom enshrouding him that didn’t come from the dark of night, Braiden already knew. Help wasn’t coming. The bell above the shop door gave a melancholy tinkle as Augustin stepped inside.
“I couldn’t find her. She wasn’t at the Lighthouse, and she wasn’t home, either. The message should have reached her by now.”
“I hope she’s all right, at least,” Elyssandra said. “Wherever she might be.”
Braiden kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. “I don’t understand. Elder Orora knows what’s at stake.”
Augustin shrugged. “Maybe she had a change of heart. Maybe the message didn’t find her.”
“I made some food,” Braiden said, his head in a haze, no longer so angry, only disappointed in the whole situation. This was all to save Weathervale. Why wouldn’t Weathervale save itself?
“Nice shop,” Augustin said, lost in his own haze as he looked around at the shelves. “Sorry. Normally I would have something more complimentary to say, but — you know.”
“We’ll talk more once you’ve eaten,” Braiden said, forcing a smile, giving him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “Maybe you can try another message once you’ve built back your strength.”
Braiden pushed some bacon around on a hot pan to crisp it up again, glancing over his shoulder at the dinner table. Elyssandra held her head in her hands, glaring angrily at nothing. Augustin leaned against the back of his chair, head lolling as he looked emptily up at the ceiling.
