Page 105 of Sugar & Sorcery
A shudder tore through me.
Two heartbeats resonated as one.
“My two hearts are yours. Forever.”
And then, the rending.
His wings spread in a violent snap, shoving me away. The wind ripped between us. The broom shot toward me like a gale, wrenching me from his arms, hurling me skyward.
“Arawn, no!” I screamed, throat raw, my hand reaching for him.
But it was too late.
The mist swallowed me, and a dragon of horns, thorns, and shadow tore through the fog.
“Bring me back!” I howled against the merciless surge of the broom as it dragged me out of the castle in a furious flight.
Behind me, a roar exploded, shaking the fortress to its bones.
Arawn’s heart had always beaten for me.
But tonight, it would stop for me too.
34
Grimoires are fickle things. Listen closely enough, and they will always pretend to know better than you. While some recipes are meant to be followed, others… must be rewritten.
LEMPICKA
The slow, steady rhythm of a heartbeat lulled me. But it wasn’t mine.
That beat, pressed against my chest, was both foreign and painfully familiar. My eyelids fluttered before opening on a ceiling I did not immediately recognize. A vaulted arch of polished wooden beams, woven through with climbing ivy. Glass jars lined up on shelves, in shards of amber and emerald green. Wooden furniture trimmed in gold. A forgotten dream in which I had just awakened.
“Lempicka! You’re awake!” Aignan’s damp muzzle pressed against my cheek, nudging me with enough force to knock me over.
I was lying on the parquet. My parquet. The one from Nyla’s confectionery. But it wasn’t the same anymore.
The shop had… expanded. The ceilings rose higher, bathed in soft light filtering through tall green stained glass windows with floral patterns. The sweet scent of vanilla and honeyed milk wafted through the air, mingling with the freshly cut tulips laid in bouquets on the counter. A wooden staircase curled upward toward a floor I had never seen before.
The pale-pink walls bore not a single crack. The ovens gleamed like enchanted jewels. Every ingredient, every jar, every sack of flour, all of it was there. Everything from Arawn’s kitchen. And in a gentle ballet, the copper utensils were already floating.
“Arawn…” I whispered, bolting upright.
At the other end of the shop, Chouquette and Éclair perched on a massive wooden table designed for customers. And the chairs—each had all four legs. Yeun, in his fairy form, straddled his ostrich as it hovered.
“It was his wish, Mademoiselle Lempicka,” he said softly. “He wanted you safe. Happy.”
His heart throbbed between my fingers. The sucremort spilled from it, sticky as jam, clinging around my hand. I set it down on the cake display. The trail it left behind looked like a frozen tear, and I rushed to the front door.
The bell went wild, chiming furiously. Bois-Joli greeted me with its familiar silence. My three-story boutique towered taller than all the other half-timbered houses. Passersby had stopped, wary of its pale-pink and anise hues, too vivid for a tasteless little village.
I lifted my chin, letting the wind bite at my cheeks. A bitter odor lingered in the air. Ash. The witch’s castle was still out there, hidden somewhere in the mist that cloaked the world beyond the village.
I clenched my fists, stormed back inside, and locked the door twice before yanking the curtains shut. Planting my hands on my hips, I glared at Yeun.
“This. This shop. What is it?”
“It’s yours,” he replied with a smile. “Master Arawn… Well, he made many trips into the human realm. He rebuilt it for you. See? He even kept the original wood.”
