Chapter 25
It was once said that a week before the winter harvest of golden apples, the light of the fairies illuminated the sky so brightly that it erased the night, driving back the darkness and celebrating not only the forest, but life itself.
LEMPICKA
It was decided that I would tell Arawn how I felt about him tonight.
“Done primping? The winter ceremony’s about to—” Aignan froze, perched on the kitchen windowsill. éclair, who had slipped in beside him, went still as well.
I pulled the rolling pin from my hair, pale-pink curls tumbling in soft waves.
I twirled on the spot. Layers of gauzy tulle lifted in a silken ripple.
I had used the enchanted fabric Arawn had given me to shape the dress I had always dreamed of.
The boning of the bodice traced the outline of hearts, while the lace sleeves, finely wrought like petals, made me feel like a princess from some enchanted forest.
Chouquette clapped her tiny tails, the ribbons tied to them perfectly matching my lavender gown.
“All that for a man,” Aignan sniffed. “A sorcerer, no less. It’s a miracle you haven’t stained the fabric already.”
I bent down to his level, resting my chin on his paws with a sly smile. “I baked you your own batch of butter biscuits. The Spirits carried them ahead to the ceremony.”
He narrowed his eyes, but his tail swished.
I straightened, pointing an accusatory finger at the group. “Curfew tonight. Don’t make me worry.”
The infamous trio bobbed their heads quickly, but Aignan lingered, resting a paw on my arm. “The dress suits you.”
I relied on my rose-powder blush to hide my flaming cheeks. With luck, they would mistake it for the effect of my hibiscus gloss. A compliment from Aignan? Rare as starlight. I turned toward éclair, who still had his mouth hanging open. Chouquette, exasperated, snapped it shut with her tail.
“Su… sugar,” éclair stammered, pointing a mossy finger at me.
I blinked, pressing a hand to my chest. “You spoke, éclair!”
I scooped him into my arms as he repeated, more and more excited: “Sugar!”
Tiny mushrooms had sprouted along his fingers, a carpet of moss twining between them like a miniature forest.
“I think he means you look like spun sugar,” Aignan translated in a falsely blasé tone.
I smiled. “Oh, thank you, éclair. That’s adorable.”
Satisfied, éclair lifted his head to the stars glittering through the night’s mist. But Aignan, true to form, seized command again. “All right, let’s go. The buffet’s waiting! Stay together, you idiots! No running off!”
I stifled a laugh as I watched them leave, then slipped open a drawer. Hidden inside was the chocolate confection, sculpted into the shape of a book. Within, a tiny mechanism turned a page, revealing the charm of the lighter nestled in the heart of a chocolate tree. My chest tightened.
“A little courage…” I murmured, voice trembling with resolve. “He must like books. Who owns a library like that without ever reading?”
But this was Arawn. Always unreadable. So many things about him I still didn’t know, so many layers he refused to reveal. Yet I knew more about him than anyone had in a long time. That had to count for something, right?
I stepped out of the kitchen. The manor’s halls smelled of golden, buttery galettes des rois. The Spirits had taken care of everything, forbidding me from entering the garden before the hour.
My traitorous heart stumbled in my chest. I wanted to retreat, but my legs refused to move.
By coincidence, or not, Arawn was walking toward his chambers.
At the far end of the corridor, his gaze fell on me.
Slow. Deep. Inevitable. Stripping the silence bare, he grazed over every detail: from the fragile line of my throat to the restless twitch of my toes in my slippers.
A bolt split the sky. Spectral light devoured the shadows of the corridor for an instant. I jumped. The night had seemed clear a moment ago, but now I wasn’t so sure.
“It’s Yeun’s ceremony tonight,” I blurted, as if telling him something he didn’t know. “Did you know he does it to preserve the light? The fairies honor nature before the first harvest. They light the whole night to bless it. A prayer for the renewal of the great tree beneath the lake.”
I was speaking too fast, tugging words like a loose thread, reciting what Yeun had told me.
“I know,” he said, his icy eyes never leaving me. “But it never works. It takes the strength of hundreds of will-o’-the-wisps for nature to bother answering. But he is… persistent.”
He stepped closer. I clutched the confection tighter. Ask him. Just a few words. It shouldn’t be this hard.
“You’re not planning to go, are you?”
Apparently, even a simple question was harder than I thought.
“I never go,” he said, voice low and smooth, like velvet. “You… dressed up for the occasion.”
My breath snagged. I lowered my gaze and held out the chocolate book.
“I made this for you. I thought you should celebrate too. Yeun says it’s tradition to give…
something to someone you… tolerate.” I bit my lip, words rushing faster.
“I tried to create a dessert that reminds me of you. It was surprisingly simple. Not because you’re simple, far from it, but the ingredients, they presented themselves. ”
Arawn took the book. I watched his fingers glide over the smooth surface, tracing the raised letters I had sculpted. “No one has ever given me anything. Is this… how you see me?”
I smiled. “Yes. Dark chocolate is demanding. But when it’s worked properly, it becomes extraordinary.
Inside, there’s black tea and hibiscus. It’s complex, almost bitter, but once understood, they reveal their beauty.
And the book hides a surprise, one only the rarest person can uncover. If they have the key.”
I offered him the chocolate key.
“You made this tonight?” he breathed, and in his voice was a shadow of disbelief, as though he had just swum across an entire kingdom.
“Yes, but don’t worry, I’m keeping up with my grimoire. We’re nearly there!” I crossed my fingers behind my back. Now. This is the moment. “Arawn, do you—”
“Lempicka, would you—”
Our voices collided at once. We froze, and a bluish light burst into the corridor.
“Ah, there you are! The ceremony, Lempicka! You’ll be late!” Little flames slipped from Yeun. He had certainly just realized he was interrupting something. “What was I saying again? Oh yes, I think Guimauve’s calling me!”
And in a whirl of sparks, he vanished as quickly as he’d come. Arawn and I both stepped back.
“I should go.”
“Yes, they’re waiting for you,” he said, melting into the shadow of the hallway.
My heart clenched as I turned away. He wouldn’t have accepted my invitation anyway. It was far too human for someone like him. I couldn’t even manage to charm one person. How could I hope to enchant someone like him, with two hearts?
But before I could stop myself, I spun back around and shouted, “Do you think I’m pretty?”
The words rang through the manor, ricocheting off its walls and cold pipes, far louder than I had meant. My cheeks burned under the weight of my own confession.
Humiliating myself—that, at least, I excelled at.
But I had to know if my heart was beating alone, or if his, even faintly, answered.
Arawn, one hand on his door handle, ready to vanish into the night, stilled. Then, with a small smile that shattered something inside me, he said:
“I didn’t manage to hide it very well, did I?” A breath. “You are… dazzling.”
Dazzling. My stomach dropped, a thousand shards of emotion exploding inside me like fireworks, and suddenly I ran, as if running could save me from being swept away by this tide of feeling.
If someone had told me that one day I’d find myself at the heart of a fairy celebration, surrounded by Spirits, Cursed, and magic, I would have laughed (and screamed in panic). Yet, there I was.
There, beneath a sky embroidered with stars, in a clearing of nocturnal violets.
There, where swings heavy with pastries swayed gently between branches, where the lake shimmered dark and smooth as obsidian.
At its edge, purple waterlilies drifted.
Lanterns of every color, strung from the branches of a weeping willow, held sleeping fireflies, ready to ignite the night.
A harp rose into the air, a thread of melody woven with spider silk.
Yeun was right to fight for the original tree.
If it fell, wouldn’t the whole orchard collapse with it?
Wouldn’t it be an omen of the end of the confectioners, of magic itself?
I gazed at my glittering hand. My curse had brought me here.
Maybe Arawn’s fate and the fate of the great tree were bound together. Maybe it was a mirror of his own heart.
A stir pulled me from my thoughts. A Spirit floated before me, hesitant, urged forward by others in the distance. In its hands, a flower of luminous purple.
“For me?” I whispered, still surprised they would show themselves so friendly.
Obedient, even. More alive than before. The Spirit nodded.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, wrapping the root of the flower around my wrist, where it nestled like a bracelet. “May I hug you to thank you?”
The Spirit shrank slightly before nodding. Spirits deserved love too. So I embraced it, closed my eyes, and waited for the inevitable.
I saw a boy, barefoot in the mossy forest. Bruises covered him. His clothes hung loose, his hair falling in ragged strands that hid eyes far too old for his age. Loneliness clung to him like fog.