Page 70 of Sugar & Sorcery
“Stay in bed,” he ordered.
The door clicked softly shut behind Yeun, leaving us alone in the room.
“No, I can’t,” I protested, my voice pitifully hoarse. “The kitchen’s a disaster! I need to get tomorrow’s pastries ready and?—”
I didn’t even finish. Arawn leaned in, bracing his palms on either side of the bed. A sharp crack rang out as one of the slats gave under his weight.
“Don’t make me lock you in here,” he murmured, his voice as soft as it was venomous. “By the confectioners, I might even tie you to this bed, if I must.”
I narrowed my eyes. “If you don’t back away, I’ll sneeze on you.”
“Charming.” With a careless motion, he slipped off his coat and draped it over my shoulders. “You’re insufferable.”
It carried his scent. A smoky sweetness, like roasted guimauves with a touch of tree sap. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going with you. You need to keep advancing with breaking your curse, don’t you? Or does it no longer matter to you?”
He really wants me gone.
I sighed.“I’m working on it.”
Gathering my courage, I stood and cast a glance at my companions, still deeply asleep. I crossed the room on tiptoe. Arawn, of course, walked as though stealth were a foreign concept. I spun around to glare at him, finger pressed to my lips. He sent me a look that very clearly saidno.
I pulled his coat tighter around me. The corridor was a tunnel of frost, every step crunching under my soles, every breath biting my lungs. I was too absorbed in thought to anticipate his hand closing around my waist. He drew me against him, my back hitting his chest. His lips brushed my shoulder. Not a kiss. Justa breath. As though he were breathing in my skin. As though his body, in spite of his mind, refused to let me go.
“What are you doing?” I wasn’t even sure if I had spoken the words aloud. Too shocked to struggle, too unsteady to properly protest.
His fingers tightened slightly on my hip. Then, muffled against the skin of my neck, he said, “I’m stopping you from falling down my stairs.”
It was as if even his sarcasm had deserted him. The memory of the kiss exploded in my mind. He had kissed me back, hadn’t he? Maybe he’d forgotten. He’d been unconscious, after all. But then why was his mouth still there, lingering in the hollow of my neck?
“I’m not even stumbling.”
“Not yet.”
Sometimes I thought there were two Arawns trapped in the same body. One, sincere beneath his roughness, vulnerable under his armor of sarcasm. The other, distant, withdrawn, determined to push the entire world away. He pretended to be the latter, yet he lied. Which made him an idiot. And a coward.
He pulled back slightly, just enough for me to breathe. “I can always summon your precious broom if you prefer.”
I arched a brow. “Given the state of your floor, a little cleaning wouldn’t hurt.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. But nothing. No biting retort. He pressed his lips together, as if holding it back. As if… trying to be gentle. It was unsettling. Maybe he pitied me. Maybe he cared.
“You’re red,” he remarked, eyeing me with a trace of suspicion. “Fever? Or something else?”
I turned my head away at once. “I’m fine!”
We descended the stairs, Arawn at my heels, looking as though he expected disaster at any moment. At last, we reachedthe kitchen—but through a door I could have sworn had never been there before. I stopped short.
“Wait. There’s always been a door here?”
Arawn didn’t bother to answer. He merely opened it as though it had always existed. But pinned upon it, a note caught my eye.
Official invitation to the festival. For the confectioner and the others, from the Spirits and your dear Yeun.
The “dear Yeun” had been furiously crossed out, which certainly was the Spirits’ doing. Snatching the invitation, I waved it under Arawn’s nose, triumphant.
“I’m invited! They’re finally starting to like me!”
