Chapter 24
Spells, living beings, and emotions can die but never truly disappear.
LEMPICKA
“Idon’t find this amusing, Master,” Yeun grumbled, reluctantly giving a handful of seeds to the ostrich perched far too comfortably on his human shoulder. “And you, Miss Lempicka, though sir may be a lost cause, I expected better from you.”
I clamped a hand over my mouth to smother my laughter.
Arawn, meanwhile, leaned against the kitchen window ledge, arms crossed, looking perfectly indifferent.
Guimauve—the ostrich, whom I had gleefully renamed like a marshmallow—categorically refused to leave Yeun.
An obsession that gave Arawn and me the perfect excuse to mock him, like two children playing a prank on their cranky old uncle.
At least Yeun had company. Someone to care for. Even if that someone was a little too possessive bird.
Arawn’s lips stretched into a thin smile. “Thanks to your affection—”
“It’s one-sided!” Yeun blurted, flushing crimson. “No, Guimauve, I do not return your—”
Guimauve let out a long, accusing cry.
“Yes, it was Miss Lempicka who gave you that name. No, she isn’t jealous. Don’t say such—”
“She’ll lay an egg for our recipe thanks to you.” Arawn scratched Guimauve under the beak, the ostrich leaning in, delighted. “Seems you’re part of the equation after all. Isn’t there a proverb that says the more, the merrier?”
“Undoubtedly, sir, but it refers more to festivities… not the preparation of an elixir meant to end a life.”
I was no longer listening. My focus had zeroed in entirely on my mission of winning Guimauve’s affection. The ostrich seemed to like everyone… except me.
“Details,” Arawn sighed. “If you prefer, I could entrust you with the thrilling task of arranging my funeral after—”
I held out a piece of dried fruit to Guimauve. She blew noisily and batted it away with her beak.
“Forgive her. Guimauve is… rather territorial. She sees you as a rival,” Yeun coughed, clearing his throat. “For my affection. She says it’s… the seduction hormones you give off.”
My cheeks burned hot. “The what hormones?”
“As if Lempicka would ever have a soft spot for you,” Arawn mocked, his tone dripping disdain, his glare at Yeun icy enough to snuff out a fire.
I slammed a napkin onto the table. “Yeun is charming! I’m sure he’s had his share of admirers—”
“Too old for you,” Arawn cut in.
“If I may, sir, we are practically the same age…” Yeun faltered, pinned in place by Arawn’s and Guimauve’s frozen stares. “Wait… You’re not jealous, are you?”
“No,” Arawn and the ostrich answered in perfect unison.
Yeun smothered a laugh, readjusting his mustache. “I must admit, I’m flattered. Never would I have imagined being so desirable. To consider me a rival, truly—”
Arawn snapped his fingers. A gust of wind lifted Yeun off his feet, vanishing him into a purple flame, leaving Guimauve screeching indignantly.
“I can’t indulge your delusions any longer,” Arawn grumbled, dusting off his hands. “I have business to attend in the human world.”
I raised my head. “Oh? What sort of business?”
I had grown used to his presence over the past few days. To those moments where I’d catch him watching me from the doorway as I baked. Even Aignan’s exasperated sighs, punctuated by slamming windows whenever Arawn lingered too long, couldn’t dull that warmth in my chest at the sight of him.
“Make sure Lempicka doesn’t form a rebellion or another of her grand plans,” Arawn tossed over his shoulder at Yeun.
“Hey!” I protested, hands on my hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You have that look. The one you get when you’re scheming trouble.”
I scrunched my nose. “I don’t have a look.”
“It’s not as if anyone could talk her out of it, sir.”
My mouth fell open at this sudden betrayal. Arawn burst into laughter. “You’re right, Yeun.”
He pivoted toward me, his smile stretching slowly. Too slowly. A smile that never reached his eyes but curled just enough to hint at something unhinged. Every time he smiled like that, I imagined him burning a village to ash.
“Do whatever you want with my kingdom—burn it, paint it pink, declare a dictatorship, I don’t care. In fact, it will give me something to occupy myself with when I return.”
I frowned. “But… there’s a ‘but,’ isn’t there?”
Arawn tilted his head, and his smile darkened into a shadow of threat. He stepped closer, closing the space between us. His fingers found my chin. He lifted my face slightly, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“But… for pity’s sake, if you’re so intent on risking your life, wait until I come back to do it, alright? I have no desire to feel that horror you humans call worry.”
“Worry?”
Yeun and I shouted at once, but Arawn was already gone, soaring into the sky in his draconic stag form.
I leaned against the counter, my cheeks aflame, my heart pounding. I was no better than Guimauve, who was now stalking Yeun again. She and I had more in common than I ever would have guessed.
Aignan scrambled onto the window ledge, his paws caked with dirt, flanked by his two crime-partners, éclair and Chouquette.
“I thought that chatty sorcerer would never leave,” he groused, annoyed.
“Anyway, the cook’s gone! Vanished! The Spirits are losing their minds and swearing he never even existed!
And then, there was this butterfly. Never mind, that’s not the point!
You—spending all your time with that blasted sorcerer, while I—”
I grabbed him suddenly and hugged him tight. “If you didn’t like him even a little, you wouldn’t disappear every time to leave us alone, huh? You can be much more unbearable than that when you want to.”
Aignan wriggled free with a hiss, his fur bristling. “I refuse to witness… that! That look between you makes me sick.”
I bent down, a conspiratorial smile on my lips. “What if I told you we were going on a secret mission? One Arawn doesn’t need to know about.”
I signaled Chouquette and éclair to distract Yeun, who was still suffering Guimauve’s excessive grooming, then seized my broom.
Aignan’s ears twitched, a carnivorous grin curling his muzzle. “Now we’re talking.”
“You really found something useful here?”
Aignan leaped up to twist the golden handle of Arawn’s chamber door. “No. I lied.” With a swipe of his paw, he pushed it open, tail flicking with excitement. “I wanted to do something fun first, like adding green dye to his shampoo or—”
“Aignan, no!” I hissed, rushing in after him as he strode into the room like he owned it. “I just needed to confirm what I saw in the lake!”
Inside, heavy midnight-blue curtains framed a majestic canopy bed, the fabric soft as clouds. The black walls seemed to swallow the light, while the ceiling glittered with enchanted constellations. I held my breath, my eyes drifting to the far corner where a celestial bath waited.
Tiles glowed like galaxies, purples and indigos swirling in a cosmic dance.
A great oval tub sat beneath a vaulted wall.
Ancient copper pipes twisted all around like metallic veins, exhaling warm mint-scented steam in places.
And at last, a sink carved from a column of black wood veined with violet.
Water pooled inside, still and dark, like the Spirit Lake.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Not what you expected, huh?” Aignan flopped onto the tapestry far too casually. “I was surprised too.”
He rolled onto his back, staring at the glowing stars above. I couldn’t help but smile. I understood now why Aignan came here. Annoying Arawn was just an excuse. In truth, he came to watch the stars. He came for Nyla.
He stretched lazily, then licked a paw. “Well… back to the claws at hand. You think the tree that cursed him is buried beneath the Spirit Lake?”
I nodded, my mind already racing. “Yes. I think it’s the very first confectioner’s tree, the one from the legends Nyla told us.
” I ticked points off on my fingers. “If I can confirm it, I’ll know for sure his link to the Crèvecoeur family.
Why do the Spirits pour from the lake… and maybe… Maybe I’ll know how to help him.”
“Tracing back to the origins,” he grumbled, shooting me a sidelong glance. “Still poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“And so are you!” I shot back, arms crossed. “So are you going to be useful or not?”
Aignan let out a loud sigh before straightening. He nudged open a drawer with his snout, just enough to slip in a paw and pull out a small golden key clenched between his teeth.
“The key to his study,” he explained in a muffled voice before dropping it into his paw.
“In the library.” He perked his ears, looking pleased.
A grin curled his muzzle. “You know why he never bothered warding it? Fairies hate metal. It was his way of keeping that will-o’-the-wisp out.
I’d bet my horn there’s a grimoire in there that talks about your precious tree. ”
My eyes lit up. “Aignan, you’re a genius!”
“And it only took you all these years to realize it?”
“This place is a nightmare,” Aignan groaned. His eyes slid over the towering shelves sagging with dusty grimoires, stretching endlessly beneath the vaulted ceiling. He swayed. “It would take days to search everything. And reading isn’t my thing, so you’re on your own with this one.”
I rolled my eyes and brandished the broom I had brought with me. “Enchanted broom, guide me to the book I seek!”
The broom remained stubbornly still.
Aignan snorted, wandering off to sniff at a corner of the library. “You really thought that would work?”
I stared hard at the broom. “I know I haven’t always been… very nice to you, and you probably don’t like me much. But, dear broom, I really need your help. Guide me to the book of the very first confectioner’s tree. Please.”
The broom twitched—barely. Aignan’s ears perked.
“I command you,” I added hastily, clutching the handle tighter.“Arawn made you obey me, and I can’t do this alone. Just this once, please.”