Chapter 23
The swirling patterns of a tray of cinnamon rolls had me in a trance.
The longer I stared at them, the more it pulled me in despite the conversation and high-pitched shrills of delight from the half a dozen women parading through my bakery.
Chelsea’s coven sister, Brigid, was having a bachelorette party of sorts to celebrate her official upcoming mating ceremony to a male demon named Lyzur.
“What’s that smell?” One of the women asked, snapping me from my thoughts.
Black smoke puffed from the kitchen, and I shrieked, “Oh, no, not the apple fritters.” Sprinting to the back, I coughed from the smoke hitting me in the face and waved my arms. Chelsea had followed behind me, gagging, no sooner had she walked through the door.
Sobbing, I whipped open the oven and grabbed the tray with a nearby towel, then tossed it onto the stove top. I started flicking the switches for the overhead vents, but the smoke had already begun to clear.
Brigid stood at the entrance with her hands outstretched, syphoning the smoke from the room with a sympathetic smile.
Sighing, holding back tears, I threw the towel onto the counter and leaned on it. “I’m sorry, ladies, they’re burnt to a crisp.”
Heels clicked on the floor behind me, and a hand rested on my shoulder. “Sylv, you okay? It isn’t like you to let something burn.”
This was the second time I’d burned something in the past few days.
There was a room full of females from all walks of life and species, some younger than me, some older. It was a golden opportunity to gain perspective on this entire snowy shitstorm.
“Can I run something by you all?” I whipped around to face them.
“Oo, girl talk. That wasn’t on the agenda. I’m intrigued,” Brigid’s sister, Amara, said, helping herself to abandoned cookie dough in a bowl, scooping some with her finger.
Brigid moved beside Chelsea, her plastic tiara glittering with fake gemstones and a thin pink veil. “We’re all ears.”
Stretching my wings wide like one would their arms, I settled them behind me before beginning. “I found my mate, but it’s incredibly complicated.”
“When isn’t it?” Amara snorted.
“When we first met, he couldn’t believe I was his mate. Mostly because I work in a bakery.”
Chelsea raised her hand like a child in school.
“You don’t have to do that. Chime in whenever you want, Chels.”
“I already don’t like him if he has a thing against confectionery treats,” Chelsea said, looking around the group for affirmation.
“No, no. He loves my treats—”
Amara snorted again, frowning when everyone turned to look at her with a glob of cookie dough halfway to her mouth.
“—he’s a winter king. The heat makes him highly uncomfortable. To him, there was no possible way that I could be his mate because of that, and the fact that he thought I was ashamed of being fae because I hid my ears. His wariness toward me made me wary of him.”
“And you didn’t dislike him at first? Do you still dislike him?” Chelsea asked, adjusting the tilted tiara on Brigid’s head.
“No, I don’t. But he hid the fact that I have to make the claiming choice by tomorrow.” I wanted to feel the anger, heat flushing my cheeks, and it made me all the more agitated.
“That is pretty shitty,” one of the other females said.
“Exactly. It puts so much pressure on me.”
The part that jarred me the most was the idea that, if Jack had told me the truth earlier, things would be different. But I couldn’t be certain that I wouldn’t have thought he had some agenda then or now.
“Does it, though?” Brigid asked, cocking her head to the side and making her tiara topple again. Chelsea was quick to fix it. “Do you not want him?”
Our time in the hot springs had an ache surging through my core, my body betraying me, urging me to say yes, so we could do that repeatedly.
“I do want him. I just—” Pausing, I pinched the bridge of my nose and fanned my wings to kick air around. “—I didn’t want to feel rushed into it.”
Brigid, the oldest of us all and clearly happy to take on the motherly role, moved forward.
She clasped her hands with mine and smiled warmly.
“What is it they say about love? That it’s one of the greatest leaps of faith?
Sometimes we don’t get to make the hard choices in a timeframe that’s convenient for us. ”
I hardly knew the witch in front of me, but somehow experienced a connection with her like we’d met centuries ago. My sinuses stung and I sniffled. “May I hug you?”
The females around me all laughed, including Brigid, who opened her arms wide. “What kind of question is that? We’re all sisters here. Witch or not.”
We hugged, and I tried desperately not to blubber on her shoulder. When we peeled away, I eyed her tiara, and in a meek voice, asked, “Would you mind if I tried that on?”
“That’s right. Homegirl here bagged herself a king,” Amara said, frowning when she noticed the bowl of cookie dough was empty.
Brigid, still smiling, removed the crown and nestled it on my head, pointing at my dingy mirror hanging in the corner. “Go take a look.”
It’d been so long since I stared at my reflection.
Seeing myself proudly displaying the points of my ears, my wings flared, made me choke on my own breath.
I hadn’t seen myself that confident in such a long time, I’d forgotten what it looked like on me.
I moved my gaze to the tiara, envisioning how a winter queen’s crown might appear—how I’d complement the throne and Jack’s side.
Chelsea’s head appeared on my shoulder, her hands gripping my biceps. “What a queen you’ll be, Sylvie.”
The words hit me with a burst of sizzling electricity aimed at the base of my spine, surging up until they struck my mind. Jack had said those exact words to me.
I turned to look at her, confused as to whether her magic was somehow able to pull that from my memories, but her expression said the contrary.
Chelsea leaned back and eyed me like a tuskless orc. “Sylvie? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Jack said that to me once.” An overwhelming sense of relief, gratitude, and excitement hit me like an avalanche.
“I’ve got to go.” Laughing, I tore off the tiara to hand back to Brigid and quickly untied my apron, tossing it wherever it landed.
“There are a dozen pink and white cupcakes in the display case. You’re welcome to them because of the fritters.
But be warned, they’re laced with extra happy dust, if you get my drift. ”
“Point me at them,” Amara said, making grabby-hand gestures.
Chelsea rested her hands on her hips, watching me shimmy around the kitchen like someone who couldn’t keep their head straight. “I take it you made up your mind?”
“Yes,” I yelled, smiling so wide it made my cheeks hurt. “Will you give this to Aegean. He should be showing up for his night shift within the hour. I’m sorry. I just really need to go.”
“We understand. Go, go. Time is literally of the essence,” Chelsea encouraged, whisking her hands toward the door.
“Congratulations, Brigid,” was the last thing I said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek, before sprinting outside.
The snow fell in droves so thick they created a whiteout, and I could scarcely see where the tree line started.
The wind blew so fiercely it caught my wings, pulling me backward, despite digging my heels into the ground.
I’d never seen this depth of a storm in the Cove in the years I’d been here. Was it Jack’s doing? Was he upset?
The idea of Jack’s emotions causing a blizzard, hurt, and hope over if I’d return to him, if I’d accept him, had me pushing against it.
My wings were only slowing me down, so I hid them, using my hand to shield my eyes from the snowflakes flying into them.
Faint lights glowed through the falling snow from gas lamps lit in the plaza.
I prayed no townspeople were caught in the storm because, despite the wind fighting against me, the cold I could handle.
“Fintan,” I shouted, squinting against the blinding, snowy wall surrounding me.
I left the bakery behind me, and now that too had disappeared from view. I was at winter’s mercy now, not knowing which direction I should head. Did being mates give us some form of connection? Would I be able to feel him? Smell him? Would I be able to let any of it guide me?
Nervously rubbing the tip of my ear, I turned in circles, slight panic rising. “Fintan,” I yelled again, my voice cracking.
When only the sounds of the whistling wind answered, I cupped my hands over my mouth and screamed, “Jack.”
It was so deadly quiet I could hear my own frantic gasps. A knot formed in my throat as I stifled sobs.
“Nanok,” I whispered, not bothering to yell it this time because I knew the wind would only swallow it, sacrificing it to the curtains of snow.
All I wanted to hear were hooves, paws, or feet crunching quickly through the snow. Winter could be as cruel as she was beautiful, blessing me with anything but what I wanted. Did it seek revenge for how long I’d ignored the magic it bestowed on me?
We were so close. I finally realized Jack’s words were out of relief and awe. He’d been searching for me for so long and had no trouble envisioning me as his queen, his mate, his forever.
I collapsed to my knees, sucking in a sobbing breath as I landed in a mound of snow up to my shoulders. The ground shook beneath me, and tears seized from the tremors vibrating my bones. I started to crawl away, but the snow gave way beneath me and I fell into an onyx abyss.