Page 87 of Sugar & Sorcery
“Hey! The ostrich laid a blue egg! And of course, I’m the one stuck handling everything here! Now, where is that grumpy bird? Sorcerer! Stop hiding and fight me!”
I tightened the ribbons of my apron and summoned a paper with a flick of my hand. I couldn’t keep running anymore, not from my responsibilities, not from my anger. I would believe in my own strength.
“I’ll keep an eye on Aignan… just in case,” Yeun said, flitting toward the window.
I signed my name, pressing my forehead to the sheet. “I’ll be there, witch. I’ll break my curse. I won’t let anyone underestimate me again.”
The other papers clung to my arms, my shoulders, brushed my cheeks like timid wings.
I smiled. “Come back any time, if your heart is still hungry.”
A light seeped from their edges. The seared red of the seal was no longer raw, but like a scar closed over. And in a gust, the papers whirled out through the window.
28
The more a sorcerer tries to detach himself, the more his magic remembers what he seeks to escape… and that is when he discovers his only true limit.
ARAWN
My magic betrayed me, slipping, rebellious, as if I were no more than a novice, playing at being a sorcerer for the first time. Worse still, I could no longer maintain my protective barrier. And then, there was that splinter, lodged deep in my chest. Not physical, of course, otherwise I would have ripped it out long ago. No, this one was more insidious, buried in my being, twisting every time I looked at her.
Her.Lempicka.
Each time she crossed my path, the splinter drove deeper. I oscillated between the urge to banish her forever from my domain and the desire to cage her for eternity—make her mine, only mine—no matter the misery it would bring her. My humanity and my monstrosity fought a brutal war for her, leaving me raw, broken, furious.
I clenched my fists. I had already ignored my emotions once. I could do it again. Surely, if I unleashed enough destruction, burned a village, ravaged a kingdom, I could smother these unwanted feelings and become myself once more.
I snapped another grimoire shut, exhaling between clenched fangs. Still no answers. Nothing in the library explained why my magic faltered, or why this damned storm refused to subside. Only a few days remained before the winter harvest—my moment to remind the world I was terror, a monster. I could not fail.
A tiny glowing silhouette sliced through the air, crackling, soaked and burning with furious brown. “Where is Aignan? Let him go or I’ll?—”
“I ate him,” I replied flatly.
“That’s not funny!” Yeun flared crimson, darting at me.
“I told him to leave.” I sighed. “In exchange for sparing his pitiful life, I let him tear my lair apart and escape with yet another basket of silk. He didn’t even bargain. Pathetic.”
Yeun dropped onto one of the countless piles of books, dimming back to blue. “This place is a disaster. And you must stop this storm. Do you know that Miss Lempicka picked apples under this downpour? She’s going to make herself sick!”
I slammed another book shut with such violence that pages tore free and rained around me. Outside, the storm raged harder. The windowpanes rattled in their frames.
“You’re creating a tornado, Master. You need to calm down.”
“If I knew how to stop it, Yeun, don’t you think I would have already?” I growled, my voice low and edged. “Is she ill?”
“She’s stronger than you,” Yeun retorted, shaking a tiny heart-shaped pastry. “Lempicka baked this for me. Isn’t that sweet? She won’t stop cooking, probably trying to distract herself from… all this.” His flames gestured toward the stormoutside before narrowing at me with a grimace. “You look awful. Have you even showered these last few days?”
I shot him a murderous look. I had never appeared so disheveled. The ribbons of my shirt hung loose, long past caring about being tied. My hair, nearly brushing my shoulders, grew wild and unkempt. I hadn’t even bothered to saw down my cursed horns. I didn’t care. The more hideous I was, the easier it was to avoid Lempicka—my pride could not bear for her to see me like this.
“You know, your magic is bound to you, and therefore to your emotions,” Yeun said. “The more you ignore them, the more everything collapses.”
“Ridiculous,” I snarled, though my black claws tightened.
“Magic doesn’t care about logic. It comes from the soul. And yours, sir, is having the worst tantrum I’ve ever seen.”
For a moment, I considered throwing the little will-o’-the-wisp out the window. But Yeun was right. Or rather, he was saying aloud what I had been denying while devouring every book in this cursed library. The truth was a cruel, immovable shard. My magic faltered because of her.
I exhaled slowly, resigned to admit it. “My mind is made up. I don’t see why my magic is collapsing.”
