Page 12 of Sugar & Sorcery
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, you’re afraid of a cupboard? It’s just wood and hinges, maybe one or two spiders and?—”
“In the cupboard, you useless lumps!” Aignan barked.
The Cursed squealed and scrambled inside, slamming the door shut behind them.
But before Aignan could savor his victory, the bell over the door chimed. I straightened. A heady poppy scent slipped into the shop. A woman dressed in crimson velvet entered,her painted-red lips stretching into a sharp smile. Her eyes, however, did not smile.
She wrinkled her long nose with a disdainful pout. “He’s forgotten that a trace of magic never truly fades.”
A faint tremor shuddered through the cupboard behind me. I snapped it shut with my foot, a bright smile on.
“Good morning. May I help you?”
“What an astute question…” the customer said, brushing her red fingertip against the last cupcake on the counter. “Tell me, I have at my disposal the most refined confectioners in all the kingdoms, yet, something eludes me.”
She tilted her head, her features seeming to lengthen. Her smile stretched ever so slightly, just a shade wider, just a shade darker.
“I had to see for myself what could possibly have drawn the Mist Sorcerer into this shabby little pastry shop.”
The Wish Witch was in my shop.
Granted, she had just insulted the place, but she wasn’t the first. I hardly cared. My heart pounded. I pressed my hands to the counter and rose onto my toes, leaning forward. At last, perhaps, I would hear news of Nyla!
“You’re the Wish Witch! It’s an honor to?—”
“His magic has grown so weak.” Her smooth voice was mocking. “The pathetic protection circle he traced around this pitiful shop shattered without so much as a sigh. Looks like he couldn’t care less about the life of his little confectioner.”
I lost a bit of my momentum. Why was she talking so much about him? The Wish Witch was the most powerful of all. Loved, admired. He was nothing but an exiled sorcerer. And from what I had seen, he didn’t exactly resemble the creator of Cursed that the rumors claimed he was.
She plucked up the last cupcake and rolled it between her fingers, examining it as if it were a trinket of no value.“Everything here is so small. And hollow. So hollow that you pour everything you have into your pastries just to make them pretty to the eye. But in the end, aren’t they just as empty as you are?” A smile brushed her lips. “No grimoire either? What a shame.”
I gripped the wood of the counter until my knuckles turned white. Nyla had left everything behind to follow her. There had to be an explanation—something behind these acidic words. My pastries might not rival those of the great houses, but each one was crafted with care and meant to make life a little sweeter.
“I only have a modest shop,” I replied, forcing my voice to remain even.
Behind me, Aignan—still hiding under his basket—gave me a sharp signal to keep quiet. The witch bit into the cupcake, chewed slowly, then dropped the rest on the floor.
“Hm,” she scoffed. “I have lived many centuries, and I have never seen a confectioner as pitiful as you.”
A lump of anger swelled in my chest. I had had my fill of insults for today. Behind me, the Cursed rattled the cupboard. “I understand my shop doesn’t please you. But I?—”
The cupboard creaked. In a rush of breath, the two Cursed burst out. Chouquette scrambled up to the ceiling beams in a spiderlike movement, while Éclair, heavier, slammed his heel against the wood.
The witch fixed her gaze on them, one eyebrow raised. “Ah, there you are at last.”
I froze, the blood draining from my face. They belonged to her? Behind me, the cauldron boiled violently, as if my anxiety was feeding the fire beneath it.
“I ordered you to wreck this place!” she snapped, her voice as biting as frost. “Not to loiter like vulgar decorations!”
“Why?” I cried. “I never did anything to you!”
She was supposed to be on the good side of the story. To bring hope to small people like me. My stomach knotted. The world tilted. None of it made sense. I was only a simple pastry chef from Bois-Joli. And Nyla? Where was Nyla?
“Becausehecame here!”
Her left eye twitched. A cloud of black dust lifted into the air, and I coughed. This was not fairy dust. This was chimney soot.
“Once, I knew a confectioner as naive as you. A far stronger heart. A true disappointment. Her shop was just as miserable as yours… Rania? Anna?”
