Chapter 19
Only a wounded heart forgets the magic a heart holds and lets curses slip in to smother it.
LEMPICKA
“If you think I’m going to lower myself to that, you can keep dreaming,” Arawn grumbled.
I tugged hard on his sleeve, and he finally crouched beside me, reluctantly hidden in the bushes.
The Spirits were there, gathered around the lanterns glowing in the night, and the tree trunk that held my picnic.
Even the grumpy chef. éclair played the server.
Chouquette purred on a branch, her tails coiled like a snake, and Aignan sprawled on his back, paws crossed over his full belly.
The ostrich was puffing up her feathers in a mating display. She flapped her wings, sending swirls of frost toward Yeun, who, in his will-o’-the-wisp form, remained perfectly still… and oddly brownish.
“Yeun only turns brown when he’s deeply upset. Or disgusted,” Arawn commented, in a tone almost too cheerful at his butler’s misery.
A blast of ice shot from the ostrich, freezing in midair, forming something odd—a twisted heart, maybe—before collapsing weakly to the ground.
“Go away, vile creature! No, don’t you speak to me in that tone!” the will-o’-the-wisp shrieked, blazing red and darting away at top speed. “I do not want to mate with you! Leave me alone, for heaven’s sake!”
I clapped a hand over my mouth, stifling my laugh. “I think our ostrich just fell hopelessly in love.”
“And it doesn’t help that Yeun understands every language.”
Everyone was enjoying the evening (well, except Yeun, but that was Arawn’s fault). It was exactly what I wanted. Although I still hadn’t seen the boy from the orchard. And here, in this bush, it was just Arawn and me. Heat rushed to my cheeks. This felt suspiciously like a date, didn’t it? Maybe—
“You were supposed to join them, not spy like a cake thief,” Arawn growled, already standing, striding toward the clearing. “They’re waiting for you.”
I grabbed his sleeve again.“No, wait!”
I flung myself at him, and the momentum knocked us both down. He lost his footing, toppled backward, and I landed on his chest. Under my palms, Arawn’s heart, usually so measured, pounded wildly.
He didn’t move, but stared at me, pupils blown wide, frozen as though I had broken something irreparable inside him.
His mask of cold indifference had cracked with the impact.
No cynicism, no control. Just his hands on my hips, which he must have used to catch me.
Hands that tensed, then pulled away, abruptly.
“What are you… doing?”
My own breath caught in my throat. Too close. Far, far too close. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt them.”
I scrambled upright in a rush, backing away as though I’d been burned.
But even crouched behind the bushes, I still felt the ghost of his warmth against me.
He, on the other hand, adjusted his gloves with exaggerated precision.
I watched him, unmoving. My heart hammered as though it were trying to break free from my chest.
“I see,” he murmured. “It’s true you managed to make them get along. That’s a first.”
Arawn crouched beside me. His face hovered at the edge of my space.
His profile was carved in shadow: harsh, chiseled features, almost severe.
The sharp line of his jaw, the straight bridge of his nose, and strands of dark violet hair falling messily across his forehead.
A face of edges and mystery, a beauty too sharp to ever be gentle.
My throat tightened. He was handsome. Infuriating. Arrogant. But handsome in a cruel, unreachable way. As if I didn’t belong to a world where beings like him could exist. As if I were just a stray grain of sugar.
I looked away, but it was too late. Something inside me was already cracking, the echo of a doubt buried too deep.
Since when had I felt worthy of being seen?
Of being… I bit my lip. Arawn moved. I looked up just in time to see him shrug off his coat and place it around my shoulders.
The warmth of the fabric still carried him.
“You’re crystallizing.” His hand hovered near my face, as if hesitating to touch me. “Is it really so hard to take care of yourself sometimes?”
The question struck deeper than I expected. His fingers brushed my cheek, stealing my breath.
“Arawn, what are—”
A crease of irritation cut across his brow.
His gaze dropped to the hollow of my clavicle, just at the enclosure of my dress.
My chest rose. You didn’t look at a woman there.
Especially not a woman who, to him, was only his confectioner, nothing more.
I covered my neckline with my hand. A gritty texture rasped beneath my fingers.
I looked down. Purple shards speckled my skin, like crushed sugar.
“Confectioners are immune to sorcerers’ magic unless their heart is cracked,” he accused through clenched teeth. “So stop being so reckless when I can’t do anything to help you.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance. It wasn’t my fault if I wasn’t as strong as him. If sometimes I let myself be overwhelmed. If I was doing the best I could to handle a curse far bigger than me.
“I didn’t ask you for anything!”
“Of course not,” Arawn shot back with a frosty smile. “You never ask for anything. You just endure until you forget yourself.”
I opened my mouth, ready to snap a retort, but he cut me off.
“I’ve never been powerless before.” His voice lowered and was rougher. “If you hurt yourself, I can’t do a damn thing about it.”
That was it. Arawn, the cursed sorcerer, the untouchable one, whose magic had always fixed everything for him, was hitting his limits. “But that’s what it means to be human. What you’re feeling is frustration. Maybe even envy, anger… or sadness.”
Arawn crossed his arms, his violet eyes stormy. “And why would anyone want to feel such things?”
“Because it proves you care about someone.”
That he cared about me. The wind rushed through my hair, whipping it behind me. Arawn froze, as if my words had struck a raw nerve.
“Impossible.” He said it so quickly that my heart stumbled. The thought of it repulsed him that much?
“You don’t want to become a monster, but you hate humans. Yet I bet you’ve never even tried living like one. Instead, you choose cowardice, isolating yourself out of fear of life. Not all humans are so bad or weak!”
“I control my curse,” he snapped, tongue clicking in irritation. “I keep just enough humanity to maintain my consciousness and my magic. It’s strategy.”
“For someone with two hearts, you should try using them!” I shouted.
“I’m the only one who can destroy Zelda. I need my full power for that. Not a heart that would slow my magic!”
“Your heart is more than a weapon!”
“Have you ever wondered if I might never be able to reclaim it at all?” he burst out. “My own heart would reject me. There’s nothing good left. If I listen to it, there’s only hate and pain. I want it to stop.”
I froze. Dark veins branched across his skin, and his eyes glowed a feral yellow, burning like fever. He was hurting himself, too.
Ghostly heads peeked from the bushes, watching our quarrel like an audience at the climax of a tragedy. They carried my sweets in their translucent arms, stacked into a lopsided cake. At the top, a drip of wax slid down from a crooked candle already melted into the shape of an L.
“I told you, at my signal,” Arawn groaned, a hand pressed to his forehead.
I flushed scarlet, stood up, and brushed off my dress. I handed him back his coat without a word and blew out the candle. “Thank you, everyone. I’m going to bed.”
I picked up my battered broom, its bristles scattered and frayed, and stormed off. Rain began to fall, soaking me before I even reached the castle. I slammed the door behind me and muttered under my breath:
“That sorcerer doesn’t understand a thing about his own emotions, but he still manages to make everyone suffer through them.”