Page 94 of Sugar & Sorcery
The idea made me sick.My mentor, and the only man I’d ever felt anything for, bound together like that?No. Please. No. Anything but that.
“We didn’t like each other much, but I respected her,” Arawn answered. “Her thoughts and feelings resonated with me. I could feel them. About you. So in a way, I was closer to her feelings for you than I ever wanted to be. What you heard about yourself?—”
“I know. I don’t have the right kind of heart to be a confectioner. Sugar never wanted me, which explains a lot.”
“Yet now it answers you. She didn’t just see your flaws, she saw that spark you’ve always had.”
I nodded. A spark of hope. The same hope the boy in the orchard once had of becoming a powerful sorcerer. The hope Arawn carried to not become a monster. The hope I carried to become a confectioner as great as Nyla. And what if that was enough? My throat tightened.
Nyla had told me there was a confectioner for every sorcerer, and vice versa. They went in pairs. Always. But not all pairs were equal.
Soulmates.
That’s what existed between confectioners and sorcerers. And what if Nyla had been Arawn’s soulmate? She was the most gifted confectioner I had ever known. And he, the most powerful sorcerer. It made sense.
I should hate him. Yet, I found myself still standing, after everything I’d just learned.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Arawn noted.
“I accepted the witch’s invitation to the first harvest ball of winter,” I said firmly, my whole body stiffening. “I’ll go, and I’ll break my curse in front of her. Don’t even think of trying to stop me!”
“Why am I not surprised? Fine. You’ll be the perfect distraction while I retrieve my heart.”
“As for the elixir…” I sighed, squaring my shoulders. “I’ll think about it after I’ve solved my own problems. You’ve waited this long. A few more days won’t kill you.”
I had never been anyone’s chosen anything, but that wouldn’t stop me from fighting. Even if I wasn’t Arawn’s true confectioner soulmate, I was convinced he was mine. Just like I wasn’t Nyla’s real daughter, but it had never stopped me from loving her as a mother.
And maybe… that would be enough.
“I’m glad you’re reconsidering killing me. There’s no one else I’d rather have do it.”
I frowned, lips pressed in annoyance. “I can’t decide if you’re the best or worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
But one thing was certain: I was no longer the Lempicka I once was (whether because of him, or in spite of him). I would become the confectioner who would silence that cursed witch. Just a human, but not less than anyone else.
“The worst,” he said with a sharp grin. “Remember that. Because better things will come to you.”
He paused, his shoulders tensing imperceptibly. His gaze slid over me, slow, measured, as if he were taking me in one last time.
“But nothing worse than me. That, I promise you.”
For a moment, I wondered if this was his way of making sure I’d never forget him.
30
To earn the title of Confectioner, one must create the recipe of their soul: a unique blend of their essence and their art, engraved in their grimoire like a signature, a legacy for life.
LEMPICKA
“Very well, you grumpy old grimoire, let’s get to work!”
I brushed a strand of pink hair from my face, and then, on the blank page, I wrote“A Golden Tear in Bloom. A luminous and joyful recipe, by Lempicka.”I bit my lip. I had no family name to sign. The grimoire shimmered faintly.“Luminous and joyful”was crossed out at once, replaced by a note in the margin.
I sighed, exasperated. “Oh, don’t get sarcastic with me. I’ve seen your annotations. I refuse to write ‘melancholic and bitter,’ it’s depressing. What about… ‘poetic and eternal’?”
A tacit agreement was settled between us. For once.
A dull thump against the kitchen window made me look up. Aignan had his snout flattened against the glass, and hishooves were leaving marks. I could almost hear him grumbling about visibility. Behind him, Éclair with his green apron tied with precision, as if supervising the operation. Chouquette’s tails scratched furiously at the window frame, trying to pry it open.
