Chapter 18
Poppy
I BARELY SLEPT LAST NIGHT thanks to how nervous I am for today, and when I did dream, it was about giant cookies coming to life and dancing around me with smiling chocolate-chip faces, which I’m pretty sure isn’t going to happen today.
My dreams always mean something, but this is probably one of the funny ones that just means I’ll eat a cookie or see someone dancing on my way through town.
There’s a little mirror hanging on the wall by the dormitory door, and I briefly glance into it after pulling my boots on.
I’m wearing my hair down today, and Alina insisted that I let her do my makeup, and I’m pleasantly surprised by what she did.
My eyelids sparkle with an iridescent powder, and she dusted a bit of glitter onto my cheekbones.
“To help your natural beauty shine,” she said, which I laughed at, but I really do like how it looks.
I feel . . . pretty. And I could use a bit of a confidence booster.
I can’t believe I’m going on a date with Aric Vandermere.
“Have fun!” Alina says as I reach for the door handle.
“Yeah,” Lyra adds as she leans her head against Alina’s shoulder, “just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
The thought of doing something Lyra wouldn’t is downright terrifying.
“I won’t,” I say. “I promise.”
Maeve isn’t here—I think she’s at the bathhouse—which I’m actually grateful for. I’ve not yet had the chance to talk to her privately and ask how she feels about me going on a date with her stepbrother. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, but . . .
I just like him so much.
The butterflies that’ve been in my stomach since Aric asked me to go to Sweet Crumbs flutter around like a whirlwind, and I take a steadying breath.
“You’re going to have an amazing time,” Alina says. She steps away from Lyra and takes me by the shoulders. “Just be you. You’re more lovable than anyone has any right to be.”
I roll my eyes, and she grins before pulling me in for a tight hug.
“Okay, I should go.” I take another breath, then actually grab the door handle and pull it open. No turning back now.
“Oh, can you bring me a cookie?” Lyra calls as I step into the hall. “And Juniper too?”
I smile. “Yeah, of course.” Then I close the door on Lyra’s and Alina’s smiling faces.
Raelan is leaning against the opposite wall, where he usually is, and he smiles when he sees me. “Want me to walk you down?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, I’m fine. But thank you.”
He nods. “Have a good time.”
“I will.” I start down the stairs, heart beating with every step. Right before I turn the spiral and step out of view, Raelan calls out to me.
“And, Poppy?”
I turn. “Hmm?”
“For what it’s worth . . .” He tips his head and furrows his brow a bit, looking serious. “I think Aric’s a good guy. I don’t really know him, but . . . I’ve got a good feeling.”
“What makes you say that?” I ask.
But Raelan just smiles and shakes his head. “Call it instinct.”
And I’ve learned that in Raelan’s language, that means he’s not going to tell me. So, instead of pressing him, I lift a hand. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. See you later.”
All the way down the stairs, I have to fight back my rising panic.
Sure, I see Aric in class every week—he even partnered with me again in cooking class yesterday, though our pumpkin soup didn’t turn out nearly as well as our apple-cinnamon cake did—and have met up with him a handful of times for tutoring, but this is different. This is a date. A real one.
I think . . .
A whirlwind of anxiety goes through me. Have I somehow misunderstood the entire situation? Is this a friend date and Aric’s just being the friendly guy I know him to be?
Now I’m second-guessing the makeup Alina did for me. Will it make it look like I’m trying too hard? Will he pity me for misunderstanding, or—
I step into the grand entrance hall, and there Aric is, standing in a patch of colored sunlight streaming through a stained glass window depicting a witch in a flowing blue robe.
He doesn’t notice me at first, and I watch him, taking in the thoughtful crease in his brow, the casual confidence he exudes as he stands with his hands in his trouser pockets, a lightweight autumn cloak draped around his shoulders.
His hair is pulled up into a messy topknot—one of his typical styles—and the rings in his ears gleam in the warm yellow sunlight, sending sparkles of light along the walls and marble floor as he tips his head.
And looks right at me.
Heat flares inside me at having been caught staring. I don’t think I’ve ever stared at someone so much in my life. But Aric just smiles, his eyes crunching joyfully in the corners.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi.” My voice sounds small in the expansive castle entrance, and I cross the marble floor toward him. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”
Aric’s smile doesn’t budge. “I’d have waited all day.”
The butterflies now feel like they’re turning into a whirlwind of tiny dragons.
I don’t know what to say, so I glance away shyly.
But Aric reaches toward me, and his fingers brush my chin as he gently turns my face back to his, angling it into the light.
“You’re wearing makeup,” he says, tone surprised.
“O-oh, it’s just a little s-something Alina did for me,” I stutter out, almost vibrating out of my skin from the way he’s holding my chin.
He pulls his hand away, but my skin still feels hot where his fingers touched me. “It’s beautiful. I mean, you look great without makeup too, but it’s, you know . . . nice.” His green cheeks darken just a tinge.
I blink. Did Aric Vandermere just get flustered? Over me?
Maybe this isn’t a friend date after all . . .
I’m going to need to tell Alina thank you about a million more times when I get back to the room later.
Aric clears his throat. “You ready to go?”
I nod, and he moves to pull one of the heavy castle doors open for me.
Of course, he makes it look like it’s the weight of a toothpick, but I know better—it takes my whole body to budge one of those doors.
We step out into the autumn sunshine together, and I’m delighted to see that some of the trees have started to turn bright shades of orange and gold.
Autumn has been soft this year. We usually get rainstorms and plenty of gray days, but so far, it’s been beautiful.
And considering how long the walk to Wysteria is, I’m very glad it isn’t raining.
Still, even if it were, I don’t think I would have cancelled.
I probably would’ve walked all the way to the city in the rain, as long as it meant I got to go to Sweet Crumbs with Aric.
At first, I’m afraid it’ll be awkward as we walk. But Aric makes it easy, with his chatty demeanor and rumbly laugh. And by the time we’ve passed under the barbican and have entered the shady path through the Mistwood, I’m already feeling more at ease.
“So, you’re a dream witch, right?” Aric asks as he walk. “How does that work?”
Our boots crunch over the dirt, and I fiddle with a strand of my hair as I explain.
“My dreams always mean something—whether they’re a sign, an answer to a question I’ve been working on, or just a silly thing that might happen the next day.
” My lips pull up into a smile. “Last night I dreamt of dancing cookies with smiling faces.”
Aric widens his eyes. “That could either be awesome or really creepy.” He tips his head down toward me. “What do you think it means?”
“I have no idea,” I say. Then I tip my head right back and add with a small smile, “But maybe we’ll figure it out together.”
“WELL,” ARIC SAYS AS WE stand across the street from Sweet Crumbs. “I guess that explains your dream, then.”
Two people dressed as chocolate-chip cookies dance in front of the shop, each holding a sign that reads, Big cookie sale!
A laugh bursts out of me, and I quickly cover my mouth with a hand.
Aric looks down, his lips pulled into a big smile. “Ready to chance the creepy dancing cookies?” He holds a hand out to me.
To me. Like this is a waking dream. And I’m really not ready to wake up if it is.
I only hesitate a moment before slipping my hand into his.
My fingers feel so tiny held in his warm fist, and I know a blush is already creeping into my cheeks as we cross the cobblestone street—being careful to avoid horse-drawn wagons and buggies—and slip past the dancing cookies to step into the shop.
It smells amazing, like chocolate and sugar with a hint of vanilla on top.
The shop is crowded, probably partially because of the sale, and after someone accidentally bumps me on their way out, Aric pulls me closer, tucking me in beside him so no one can run me over in their rush to get to the cookie counter.
And beside him, with his woodsy smell washing over me, I feel . . . safe. Warm. Maybe even cared for. No man has ever made me feel that way. Ever.
I glance up at Aric, but he’s studying the menu.
“What are you gonna get?” he asks.
But I’ve been too busy looking at Aric to even glance at the menu.
I pull my gaze away from him and direct it to the big handwritten menu hanging behind the front counter. Everything sounds amazing: gingersnaps, fig bars, the classic chocolate chip. Then I read the next item on the list, and it makes me pause. Blueberry-vanilla cookie bars with walnuts.
Immediately, I recall the last thing Professor Silvermoon said to me before I left her classroom, and I know better than to disregard something my divination professor deems important enough to say.
“I’m going to try the blueberry vanilla,” I say.
“Ooh, I was thinking about that. If I get two chocolate chips, will you share yours with me?”
Feeling playful, I arch a brow and say, “Make it four, and you have a deal.”
Aric orders six chocolate-chip cookies, and I order two of the blueberry-vanilla cookie bars. Before I can pull out my eldertokens, he pays for the entire order.
“Thank you,” I tell him as he lifts the tray laden with our sweets.