Page 78 of Sugar & Sorcery
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It was once said that a week before the winter harvest of golden apples, the light of the fairies illuminated the sky so brightly that it erased the night, driving back the darkness and celebrating not only the forest, but life itself.
LEMPICKA
It was decided that I would tell Arawn how I felt about him tonight.
“Done primping? The winter ceremony’s about to—” Aignan froze, perched on the kitchen windowsill. Éclair, who had slipped in beside him, went still as well.
I pulled the rolling pin from my hair, pale-pink curls tumbling in soft waves. I twirled on the spot. Layers of gauzy tulle lifted in a silken ripple. I had used the enchanted fabric Arawn had given me to shape the dress I had always dreamed of. The boning of the bodice traced the outline of hearts, while the lace sleeves, finely wrought like petals, made me feel like a princess from some enchanted forest.
Chouquette clapped her tiny tails, the ribbons tied to them perfectly matching my lavender gown.
“All that for a man,” Aignan sniffed. “A sorcerer, no less. It’s a miracle you haven’t stained the fabric already.”
I bent down to his level, resting my chin on his paws with a sly smile. “I baked you your own batch of butter biscuits. The Spirits carried them ahead to the ceremony.”
He narrowed his eyes, but his tail swished.
I straightened, pointing an accusatory finger at the group. “Curfew tonight. Don’t make me worry.”
The infamous trio bobbed their heads quickly, but Aignan lingered, resting a paw on my arm. “The dress suits you.”
I relied on my rose-powder blush to hide my flaming cheeks. With luck, they would mistake it for the effect of my hibiscus gloss. A compliment from Aignan? Rare as starlight. I turned toward Éclair, who still had his mouth hanging open. Chouquette, exasperated, snapped it shut with her tail.
“Su… sugar,” Éclair stammered, pointing a mossy finger at me.
I blinked, pressing a hand to my chest. “You spoke, Éclair!”
I scooped him into my arms as he repeated, more and more excited: “Sugar!”
Tiny mushrooms had sprouted along his fingers, a carpet of moss twining between them like a miniature forest.
“I think he means you look like spun sugar,” Aignan translated in a falsely blasé tone.
I smiled. “Oh, thank you, Éclair. That’s adorable.”
Satisfied, Éclair lifted his head to the stars glittering through the night’s mist. But Aignan, true to form, seized command again. “All right, let’s go. The buffet’s waiting! Stay together, you idiots! No running off!”
I stifled a laugh as I watched them leave, then slipped open a drawer. Hidden inside was the chocolate confection, sculptedinto the shape of a book. Within, a tiny mechanism turned a page, revealing the charm of the lighter nestled in the heart of a chocolate tree. My chest tightened.
“A little courage…” I murmured, voice trembling with resolve. “He must like books. Who owns a library like that without ever reading?”
But this was Arawn. Always unreadable. So many things about him I still didn’t know, so many layers he refused to reveal. Yet I knew more about him than anyone had in a long time. That had to count for something, right?
I stepped out of the kitchen. The manor’s halls smelled of golden, buttery galettes des rois. The Spirits had taken care of everything, forbidding me from entering the garden before the hour.
My traitorous heart stumbled in my chest. I wanted to retreat, but my legs refused to move. By coincidence, or not, Arawn was walking toward his chambers. At the far end of the corridor, his gaze fell on me. Slow. Deep. Inevitable. Stripping the silence bare, he grazed over every detail: from the fragile line of my throat to the restless twitch of my toes in my slippers.
A bolt split the sky. Spectral light devoured the shadows of the corridor for an instant. I jumped. The night had seemed clear a moment ago, but now I wasn’t so sure.
“It’s Yeun’s ceremony tonight,” I blurted, as if telling him something he didn’t know. “Did you know he does it to preserve the light? The fairies honor nature before the first harvest. They light the whole night to bless it. A prayer for the renewal of the great tree beneath the lake.”
I was speaking too fast, tugging words like a loose thread, reciting what Yeun had told me.
“I know,” he said, his icy eyes never leaving me. “But it never works. It takes the strength of hundreds of will-o’-the-wisps for nature to bother answering. But he is… persistent.”
He stepped closer. I clutched the confection tighter.Ask him. Just a few words. It shouldn’t be this hard.
