Page 101 of Sugar & Sorcery
Her magic did not weaken. On the contrary, it swelled beyond her control. A beast she herself had fed.
The bell rang. The crimson curtains open, and the setting sun flooded the marble with golden light. The harvest was about to begin, and not even Zelda could halt the magic of the golden apples. Servants wound through the crowd, offering wicker baskets. The prince seized one, then offered his arm to Lempicka, leading her among the first guests toward the terrace.
In the dimness, I swallowed hard. Zelda shuddered, her breath rasping out in a wheeze, as though speaking a single word cost her a part of herself.
“You cannot even hide it,” she muttered, her face locked in disgust. “You have fallen for her.”
I exhaled, adjusting my glove with idle precision as I watched Lempicka vanish into the sunset. Light and shadow were never meant to meet.
“Is it so obvious? Yet, when I lied to her, she believed me so easily.”
“You cannot love,” Zelda growled, as though the words were a knife driven beneath her ribs. “We cannot love!”
“Do not tell me what I cannot do.”
I offered her my arm, chin lifted. I towered over her, but in the treachery of that gesture, in that invitation both elegant and humiliating, I forced her to remember what she had made of me.
Her perfect executioner. The one who would execute her.
“Now, come watch the harvest. You can barely stand after spending your magic,” I said, my smile razor-sharp. “But do not worry… I will free you soon.”
She clutched at my arm, squeezing her gown with her one good hand. “Too confident, aren’t you? Once I recover, I’ll take her from you, Arawn. I never liked sharing.”
“That is the difference between us.”
I guided her to the terrace, where the orchard stretched out. Most of the trees were bare, their black branches twisted like dead bones.
Except one.
At the center, a single tree stood, its thick roots anchored deep, its gnarled limbs heavy with golden apples. It clutched them possessively, its branches curling like claws, refusing to yield them to anyone. Guests leaped, reached, even tried to climb—but the tree resisted.
“Like you, I am possessive. Detestable. I would eliminate without hesitation anyone who dared touch what is mine,” I continued.
My gaze drifted to Lempicka. She approached the tree, but unlike the others, she did not take. She asked. A whisper barelyaudible, a silent prayer. Her fingers rose and waited. A pause, a hush, and then the yellow petals trembled. The tree shivered. A light rain of golden leaves scattered around her.
“But unlike you, Zelda… I am willing to set aside my selfishness for the happiness of the one who holds my hearts.” I caught between my fingers a golden petal that had landed on my shoulder, then raised my eyes to the witch. “And it was never you.”
Zelda’s teeth ground together.
“Zelda! Will you not join the harvest?” the prince called.
She spun abruptly, her smile stretching too quickly, too sharply, like a jester regretting the stage. I raised my hand, twisting my fingers toward her in a lazy, mocking salute. She pressed her lips tight, then, grudgingly, turned on her heels toward her guests.
But no one looked at her.
Every gaze was fixed on the tree. One of its branches lowered, brushing against my Sugarplum’s waiting hand. Its tendrils uncurled, releasing the first golden apple of winter.
Lempicka plucked it.
The sun slipped beyond the horizon, bathing her skin one last time in liquid gold. Suddenly, sugar shards rose, swirling like fireflies before dissolving into glittering rain. The curse unraveled, thread by thread, melting like frost.
Sugar gave way to flesh, and Lempicka was human again.
“The curse is broken,” I whispered, letting the golden petal fall from my fingers. “You can be proud of her, Nyla.”
One single apple tree had bloomed in this kingdom.
On the very spot where I had buried a heart years ago.
