Page 40 of Sugar & Sorcery
He zigzagged low across the ground, chased by a runaway cart on wheels, its canvas awning flapping in the wind like a fleeing circus tent. Aignan dove headfirst into a bush, narrowly avoiding being flattened by the rolling shop.
The cart screeched to a halt, uprooting grass a few meters from the kitchen. A burst of spices, candied fruits, and vanilla pods hit me as I scrambled out the window.
“I only asked him for currants,” I muttered. “A small bunch. And he sends me… this.”
Up on tiptoe, I slipped into the delightful chaos. Crooked shelves climbed toward the ceiling, sagging under the weight of jars where floral powders whirled, vials of precious essences, mismatched boxes spilling over with dried citrus.
“Master… borrowed it. So you could choose all the ingredients you desired.”
In the center, a flour-dusted counter sagged beneath antique scales, spiced mortars, and worn pestles. Brass spoons lay forgotten mid-task.
“Borrowed?” I repeated, lifting my eyes toward the crystals dangling above, catching the faintest light.
Yeun hesitated at my side, his glow shifting nervously. “Yes… let’s say he… relocated it. Several shops, in fact.”
“You mean he stole them?”
“Borrowed,” Yeun corrected, turning a queasy shade of green (a dead giveaway he wasn’t telling the whole truth). “You know how he is. Not exactly… cordial. But he compensated them, I swear on my wing!”
“Stolen and terrorized, then. With what money? This manor is collapsing in ruins. He surely hasn’t a coin left, and?—”
My words died when a shadow darkened the tent’s entrance. The crystals chimed.
Arawn stood there. His silhouette filled the cramped space, dominating it as though the very air recoiled beneath his presence. The weak light seemed reluctant to touch him, retreating into the crooked shelves. His eyes, usually as sharp as a blade, had taken on the storm-dark shade of an approaching tempest. And they were fixed on me. Heavy. Inescapable. With an intensity that made the ground feel ready to vanish under my feet.
He ducked beneath the arch of the entrance, his coat brushing the hanging glass jars, setting them quivering in his wake.
“In ruins?” His voice was low, each syllable weighed out slowly as he advanced. “Penniless?” Another step. “And a thief, besides?”
My back hit the counter. I tried to retreat, but he was already there. Too close. His shadow stretched over me like a trap snapping shut. He leaned in slightly, just enough to shrink the space between us. The air held its breath. So did I.
“You’re all of a sudden very much silent.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. My heart hammered against my ribs. I couldn’t move. He was too close. His gaze too piercing. He filled the whole space until I no longer knew where to look. Where to retreat.
“It’s true that Master spends without restraint,” Yeun blurted. “He buys all sorts of useless things, like those plush slippers that purr like cats!”
“A bit of comfort never harmed anyone,” Arawn replied, with cutting composure.
“I heard you telling them, ‘Stop that, I’m not your master.’ And that self-knitting scarf? We had to lock it away because it wouldn’t stop growing, it tried to swallow the entire manor!”
“At least it’s productive.”
Thunder growled in the distance. Yeun paled, flushing a shameful brown, and darted out of the shop. When Arawn turned his attention back to me, his expression had shifted into something else… almost shameful.
“If I forget all this,” I murmured with a sly smile, “you’ll forget my comments about the manor? And… the rest?”
A beat of silence.
“Deal.”
He straightened, then cracked his head violently against a beam. A jar of pine cones wobbled. I caught it just in time, heart fluttering. I had never tried making candy with pine before!
Meanwhile, Arawn turned on his heel and strode out of the wandering shop as if nothing had happened.
“Thank you!” I called after him.
He stopped dead, his back to me. Heat rushed to my cheeks. Why had I said it like that? I cleared my throat and hurried after him.
