Page 50 of Sugar & Sorcery
“And what would a girl like you know?” he sneered, adjusting his oiled hair. “Confectionery demands more than a little goodwill. Women don’t have hearts strong enough to master every sugar.”
“You sell poison and dare call it sugar, and then you insult my confectioner? All I see is a rat without magic, hiding behind rusted trophies.”
I took his trophy and forced my magic through my palms. The metal shrieked, twisting in on itself, collapsing into a warped, molten black mass, the engraved name swallowed by scorched bronze. I dropped it on the wooden table, splitting it in two.
The confectioner recoiled, clutching his vest, his face pale and damp.
“A-Arawn!” Lempicka choked.
“He didn’t protest. He knows he didn’t deserve it. Come.”
“It’s you!” the man cried, falling to his knees. “You’re the creator! The illustrious Wish Witch?—”
I seized Lempicka’s hand and pulled her away before he could finish.
“Arawn, wait! What did he mean?”
Releasing her hand, I swallowed, continuing through the stalls. I didn’t have the strength to confess. Nor the stomach to see disgust form on her face. Not today.
“It doesn’t matter. He was rambling nonsense. The heart of a woman isn’t weak, and I’ll prove it,” she declared, rising on her toes. “I’ve been thinking that I want a traveling sweetshop!”
A short, harsh laugh escaped me. “That doesn’t exist.”
She raised a brow. “Sorcerers move their houses, don’t they? And my mentor’s shop…” She faltered, her throat tightening. I noticed, because she had that way of smiling sadly, though her eyes could not lie. “She led me all the way to your realm.”
I nodded. “A traveling sweetshop… That’s a beautiful dream.”
She lifted her little finger toward me. “My confections will make people happy, so happy they’ll forget the ones made with sucremort. They’ll never want them again.”
I stiffened, her words striking like needles beneath my skin. I hooked her pinky with mine, sealing the promise. “And when all this is over, I promise you sucremort will vanish.”
She laughed, light, as if refusing to give weight to what I had just admitted. “You’re not responsible for all the world’s misfortunes, you know?”
I swallowed hard and followed her from the corner of my eye as she was drawn to other stalls. Her fingers brushed against a roll of lavender tulle. When the price was announced, she waved her hands to politely decline, her attention already stolen away by a tiny bell that chimed differently depending on the emotions of its guests.
Without her noticing, I marked every object her fingers lingered on, even for the briefest instant, and paid for them. She, too absorbed by each new trinket, noticed nothing. I repeated to myself that it was for the sake of our cooperation: a happy confectioner was a willing one, and a willing confectioner would prepare the elixir meant to kill me.
But the problem came at the last stall. A woman with a clover-shaped birthmark on her forehead offered me a silk scrunchie. An enchanted trinket that tied itself and shifted its color to match the wearer’s attire.
The merchant leaned closer, a sly smile at the corner of her lips. “Oh, a man in love could be even more generous than that.”
“And a sorcerer in a foul mood could be more dangerous than you imagine,” I retorted sharply, doubling the price. “And you’re mistaken.”
“Perhaps. But one thing is certain: good men will always try to impress the one they desire. Even the most devious of them.” She chuckled, her eyes sliding toward the crowd. “Besides, it seems your little mouse is attracting trouble.”
My gaze cut through the crowd. Lempicka was impossible to miss—an irritating glimmer of light in the chaos of the market. Balanced on her tiptoes, she was laughing with a man in a naval uniform, a visitor from a neighboring kingdom.
Her smile displeased me at once. My jaw tightened. I raised my hand, ready to transform, then thought better of it. No. I would cut through this damned crowd like any other idiot. With quick strides, I pushed into the tide of bodies, ignoring the protests of merchants I shoved aside.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” snarled a man, throwing me a dark look.
I barely turned, granting him a glance from above. The man blanched instantly and slipped away without another word.
My fist clenched. Beneath my skin, I felt the familiar burn of my magic. One breath—just one—and the entire market would vanish from this earth. The thought was tempting. But I exhaled slowly, and when I reached her at last, it was with feigned calm, a shadow stretching across the corner of my smile.
“Lambs are only beasts, after all,” the sailor proclaimed smugly. “With proper training, they make fine circus performers. Or at best, livestock to be devoured at a feast.”
“You have no heart!” Lempicka screamed, bringing her broom down sharply on his foot. “Oh, what a clumsy mistake. I’m so scatterbrained…”
