Page 99 of Sugar & Sorcery
Lempicka offered the jar, her stare unyielding despite the faint tension in her fingers. “You believe you’ve seen the depths of my soul, but I’ve come to prove you wrong.”
Zelda opened the jar with the deliberate slowness of an executioner savoring the moment before the kill. She unwrapped the pastry, examined it, then bit into it. Her lashes fluttered once. Only once. Her pupils dilated, and an emotion crossed her face. Regret? Shock? Hunger? Her breath caught, barely audible, at the back of her throat. A flicker of truth surfaced in the clench of her jaw, in the way her tongue brushed her lip, as though she longed to hold on to the taste just a moment longer.
“An awakening heart can be painful, can’t it, Zelda?” I taunted.
The glass jar screeched between her fingers before she hurled it back at my confectioner, teeth bared. “It’s vile!”
The ambient murmur died. Conversations evaporated, laughter withered, and even the orchestra froze its final chord in a shiver of silence.
“It reflects the one who tastes it,” Lempicka retorted, arching a brow, before turning to me. “Do you want to try?”
I didn’t answer at once, but scanned each guest. They waited. Not out of respect, nor curiosity, but like puppets suspended, awaiting command. As if without Zelda, they had no part to play. No will of their own.
Zelda felt it too. Her expression hardened, her back stiffened.
“What are you all waiting for?” she hissed, shattering the moment as she swept across the ballroom with sharp steps. “The first harvest of winter is about to begin!”
In a breath, the charade resumed.
I would deal with it later. For now… I brought the pastry to my lips. A fine, delicate shell gave way beneath my teeth with a crisp snap. Then the mousse. Floral, heady, elusive. And then, the heart. An unexpected warmth, an explosion of caramelized apples and spices, a comforting fire that clung and lingered.
It was her. Fierce yet tender. Bold and sincere. Magical. Exquisite.
“You are cruel, Sugarplum.”
Cruel, because I could have devoured her whole and the hunger would still persist. Cruel, because I would never have enough of her.
I was still savoring the echo of her taste when a nobleman stepped forward. His proud bearing, his overly practiced confidence, his cerulean-blue suit—everything screamed of his rank. But it was the silver sword at his side that betrayed his identity most. A prince. A man of blades and rigid laws, believing a shard of metal could stand against magic.
“Mademoiselle, may I taste your creations?” he asked with a polite smile. “I am an admirer of confections, and the banquet does not tempt me much.”
Here was one not quite foolish enough to risk tasting the pastries of Zelda’s confectioners. They stood in line at the banquet like mechanical dolls, in their white coats and red ties, their skin as ashen as those corrupted by the sucremort.
I leaned toward my Sugarplum and brushed aside a stray lock of her hair, tucking it back behind her ear. My breath grazed her skin before my lips did, barely, just enough to make her tense, imperceptibly.
“I’ll leave you that one. Try not to make him fall in love with you.”
I didn’t withdraw immediately. I stayed just close enough to breathe her sweetness. Just close enough that, if I wanted to, I could kiss her. Just close enough to almost believe she was mine. Lempicka’s cheeks flushed, and I slipped back into the shadows. No wonder she had drawn the prince’s eye. Unlike Zelda’s drained confectioners, she had something real to offer.
A sharp pang lacerated my chest.
I had to find it.
I turned toward the banquet, where Zelda clutched at the edge of the tablecloth as she shoved macaron after macaron past her red lips. The fabric of her dress strained, sweat pearled upon her powdered brow, and her eyes glistened like poisoned emeralds. Fear always tasted the same. Bitter.
“You think yourself worthy of happiness?” she muttered. “Do not forget, you made a promise.”
I leaned lazily against the table, a slow smile curving my lips. “To remain at your side for eternity. Yes, yes, I remember. A very dramatic moment for us both, wasn’t it?”
I plucked a macaron from the table, examined it for a moment… and then tossed it to the ground with indifference. I would taste no pastries but Lempicka’s.
“You taught me everything, Zelda. How to wield my magic, how to rule through terror and blood. Thanks to your teaching, I felt nothing. You nearly succeeded in your experiment. We share the same solitude, but I will never again be your puppet.”
“A pity,” she sneered. “You were like a son to me.”
I locked eyes with her. “You were never meant to be a mother.”
A twitch. Almost imperceptible. Her mouth twisted, searching for a retort she did not have, while I was already looking elsewhere.
