Page 58 of Sugar & Sorcery
Another rock.
“THIS ONE’S FOR MY MENTOR!”
Another.
“AND THIS ONE’S FOR ARAWN! HE DOESN’T BELONG TO YOU! HIS HEART IS FAR TOO PRECIOUS FOR YOUR FILTHY CLAWS!”
Breathless, I wiped my cheeks with my sleeve, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. Then I turned, all smiles.
Arawn’s eyes, usually half-lidded with sovereign boredom, were round as gold coins. His mouth opened, searching for words, and I swore his cheeks had turned a rare shade of pink. I clapped my hands, sending up dust—and a few sugar-sparkles from myself.
“Well then!” I said, hands on hips, ready for battle. “Let’s go fetch that blasted tower.”
He cleared his throat, as if he’d been the one screaming from a mountaintop. “As I was saying… they’ll be waiting for us at the tower. And if it were up to me?—”
“Not a chance.”
“That’s what I thought. Which means you’ll have to manage with the broom.”
A strange sound buzzed from his cloak. A grating hiss. Arawn pulled a small pouch from his pocket. He opened it and out popped a dwarf ostrich. It perched on his shoulder and hissed at me.
“What is that?”
“An ice ostrich,” Arawn explained, with mock innocence. “A Category One Cursed. Very temperamental. Only lays eggs when she’s perfectly content. An endangered species, since she spits ice that can freeze anyone solid. You’ll need her egg for our recipe.”
I swallowed, stepping back, not eager to test a pat on her beak.
“Oh, and we should hurry,” Arawn added, far too amused. “You wouldn’t want to miss your birthday dinner.”
With that, he shifted into his cursed form and soared into the sky, followed by the ostrich (because apparently, she could fly too).
I stared down at the shattered remains of my broom, my stomach knotted with disgust.
Why hadn’t I been cursed with something useful?
19
Only a wounded heart forgets the magic a heart holds and lets curses slip in to smother it.
LEMPICKA
“If you think I’m going to lower myself to that, you can keep dreaming,” Arawn grumbled.
I tugged hard on his sleeve, and he finally crouched beside me, reluctantly hidden in the bushes. The Spirits were there, gathered around the lanterns glowing in the night, and the tree trunk that held my picnic. Even the grumpy chef. Éclair played the server. Chouquette purred on a branch, her tails coiled like a snake, and Aignan sprawled on his back, paws crossed over his full belly.
The ostrich was puffing up her feathers in a mating display. She flapped her wings, sending swirls of frost toward Yeun, who, in his will-o’-the-wisp form, remained perfectly still… and oddly brownish.
“Yeun only turns brown when he’s deeply upset. Or disgusted,” Arawn commented, in a tone almost too cheerful at his butler’s misery.
A blast of ice shot from the ostrich, freezing in midair, forming something odd—a twisted heart, maybe—before collapsing weakly to the ground.
“Go away, vile creature! No, don’t you speak to me in that tone!” the will-o’-the-wisp shrieked, blazing red and darting away at top speed. “I do not want to mate with you! Leave me alone, for heaven’s sake!”
I clapped a hand over my mouth, stifling my laugh. “I think our ostrich just fell hopelessly in love.”
“And it doesn’t help that Yeun understands every language.”
Everyone was enjoying the evening (well, except Yeun, but that was Arawn’s fault). It was exactly what I wanted. Although I still hadn’t seen the boy from the orchard. And here, in this bush, it was just Arawn and me. Heat rushed to my cheeks. This felt suspiciously like a date, didn’t it? Maybe?—
