Chapter 26
Sometimes, the light of a single heart is strong enough to replace that of thousands.
ARAWN
“Have you chosen your lantern, Mademoiselle?”
It had taken only one simple question from Yeun for Lempicka to finally stop dithering.
After what felt like an eternity of watching her stare at the lanterns dangling from the branches of the weeping willows, she reached for a small green one shaped like a star.
I remained in the background, arms crossed, my gaze so glacial that no Spirit dared interrupt her precious moment of reflection.
“It’s already started,” she whispered, horrified to see the lanterns sliding across the black water of the lake, carried by the breeze and the Spirits’ silent prayers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
A sharp smile stretched across my lips. “Because you would have panicked, overanalyzed every detail, and, in a fit of typical you, regretted your choice before the lantern even touched the water.”
Her lips pursed, clearly displeased. She was finally starting to understand, to my great satisfaction, how well I could read her.
“I needed to choose the right one,” she muttered.
For her mentor.
“These lanterns replace the light of the will-o’-wisps,” Yeun explained, twirling around her.
“By offering a piece of our own light, tradition says we make a wish or pray for those we’ve lost.” His flame flared deep blue as he looked up at the sky.
“Just for one night, it feels as if I’m with my people again. ”
Yeun always grew too sentimental during this ceremony. Too open. Too vulnerable. He quickly looked away. But Lempicka leaned close and placed a soft kiss on his flame. He turned scarlet. What misery, to wear one’s emotions so openly. A strange pull knotted in my chest.
“I wish I had known them. You’ve all become like family to me.”
I held my breath. Every Spirit nearby snapped their heads toward her. Family. My body tensed.
“They would have adored you, Mademoiselle Lempicka,” Yeun replied, before throwing me a mischievous look.
“Unlike Monsieur Arawn here.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear.
“You frown as if you plan to annihilate the entire ceremony. Relax. I’m just relieved you’ve finally opened your eyes. ”
I shot him a look so icy it could have frozen the lanterns across the lake. But Yeun, master of evasion, had already darted off after his temperamental ostrich.
“Aignan!” Lempicka cried suddenly, her eyes widening. “I have to find him! I want to make a wish for Nyla with him. I hope I’m not too late!”
I plucked a waterlily from a nearby cluster and handed it to her. “Don’t forget this.”
She darted into the crowd, leaving behind a trail of sugar particles. I raised a hand, but she was already gone. Off in the wrong direction, naturally.
I sighed, then started walking. The lamb was not hard to find. Even from here, I could smell him. Damp earth and gingerbread. A few steps more, and I spotted him, hunched before a dull gray lantern. The other two Cursed hovered nearby, but neither seemed inclined to help.
A solitary tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it with the back of a hoof as if nothing had happened. “You didn’t see anything.”
“If you say so,” I replied flatly, glancing down at the crumpled flower he clutched in trembling paws.
His jaw tightened. “What do you want?”
“Lempicka’s looking for you.”
“Message received. Now get lost.” He rubbed his hoof over his muzzle in a desperate attempt to erase any trace of weakness. Then, more bitterly, he said, “You and her… Why don’t you just pick a lantern together and leave me alone?”
My shadow stretched slowly, enveloping him entirely. “Don’t count on the confectioner for that. She’s stubborn. She’ll find you. And if you keep hiding, she’ll drag you by the horn if she has to.”
He flinched. As if I were the more terrifying of the two, when everyone knew my Sugarplum in a temper was far more fearsome.
The lake behind us was now carpeted with lanterns, the water barely visible beneath the rippling sea of light. I crouched, still looming over the lamb despite the posture.
“Don’t you dare,” he hissed. “I don’t want you cursing my lantern!”
I ignored him, taking the fragile thing in my hands as though it were crystal. “About the sorcerer who cursed you, I couldn’t save the other black lambs he experimented on. But I killed him, years ago.”
I lit the lantern filled with fireflies. Their golden glow pulsed softly, illuminating the dull frame. I handed it back. The lamb clutched it tight, as if it might slip away.
“I don’t want to talk about him. And killing him doesn’t mean I like you, you and your cursed horns. They’ll never be as beautiful as mine!”
I tilted my head, a faint smile on my lips. “Would it help if I told you I tortured him first?”
For an instant, his gaze softened. “No.”
I straightened, ready to leave.
“Why don’t you have a lantern?” he called after me.
“There’s no one I miss.”
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish on land. “She’s too good for you. If you hurt her, I’ll hunt you myself. I may only be a Category One Cursed, but—”
“Do you know many low-rank Cursed who can speak?”
He blinked, ears flattening. “You’re mocking me.”
“Speech requires at least Category Six. And you’re the only black lamb who survived his experimentation. But what would I know? I’m only one of the most powerful cursed sorcerers of all time.”
He froze. His round eyes locked on me. Something flickered in them. Pride, perhaps. But I didn’t linger. A sweet fragrance drifted in the air. Lempicka.
I turned away without another word. “Someone’s here for you.”
I skirted the edge of the lake. Yeun floated at its center, whirling in his will-o’-wisp form, a blazing blue flame like a dancing star.
A harp played in the distance, soft and mournful.
I narrowed my eyes. A cluster of Spirits surrounded me, small vaporous specters like living scraps of mist. They clung to me like burrs.
“Release me.” My voice cracked like a whip. A polite warning.
They stared back with vacant, innocent expressions. Then, as if they’d taken it as an invitation, pressed even tighter, chirping strange sounds. I exhaled slowly. Raised a hand to scatter them. But one crawled up my finger and perched there. Looking… satisfied.
“Seriously?” I growled.
The Spirit pulsed softly—the spectral equivalent of a smirk.
As if it were written somewhere that I must be harassed by every exasperating creature in this world.
Speaking of nuisances… From the corner of my eye, I caught Aignan’s lantern wobbling dangerously toward the water.
The lamb struggled to steady it, his clumsy hooves mangling the flower holding it aloft.
Chouquette had tied her tails to the base of the lantern and was laughing uproariously, perched on a lily pad.
Aignan and Lempicka let out a bleat and a panicked cry in unison.
“Stupid,” one of the Spirits clinging to me cackled.
“Entirely agreed,” I replied without a blink.
“Stupid. Good. Good thing,” added another, delighted.
“Absolutely not.”
“Help?” suggested a third.
I tilted my head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Tempting. But no. Chaos suits them.”
Indeed, their massive Cursed companion finally intervened, plucking Chouquette up as though she were nothing more than a noisy leaf.
“Very well,” I sighed, returning my attention to the Spirits still latched onto me. “If you stay, don’t get in my way.”
I turned toward the lake. Toward the ritual I performed every year, without exception.
I raised my hand and murmured the incantation.
The lanterns quivered. Then, a moment later, the magic took hold.
A burst of gold shimmered through the air, and the fireflies erupted into a luminous swarm, whirling above the lake like scattered stars.
They danced around Yeun, brushing the water with trails of gold and lavender.
“So that’s your secret.”
I stiffened. Even the Spirits scattered like a flock of startled sparrows. Lempicka stood there, hands clasped behind her back, eyes sparkling.
“Yeun is convinced you never take part in this ceremony. But every year, you’re the one who makes these lanterns magical.”
“He must not know,” I growled, crossing my arms. “It gives him a reason to hope.”
“And you? What do you hope for?”
Hope. The word nearly dragged a laugh out of me. I allowed myself no such thing.
“Stupid hope,” whispered a Spirit in my ear before darting toward Lempicka.
I raised my hand, exasperated, but they zipped around me like tiny comets, impossible to catch.
“She’s your foolish hope!” one cried.
Lempicka blinked, lips pressing together, holding back a laugh.
“Do it!” shouted another.
“Show her!”
“I preferred you when you were quieter,” I muttered.
Instead of fleeing, they only cackled, whirling around Lempicka with unbearable enthusiasm. Why had they become so infuriating lately?
“Show me what?” Lempicka asked.
I cleared my throat and held out my hand, palm open. “Do you trust me, Sugarplum?”
She hesitated, then slid her fingers into mine, lashes lowering as if bracing for a storm.
I drew her against me, and my wings of mist tore us from the ground.
My antlers burst forth in a flash of bone.
Once the transformation into stag dragon was complete, I lifted her onto my back without giving her a choice and launched into the sky.
Never before had I used this form for something so trivial.
But when I felt her clutch at my antlers, her cry breaking into laughter, a fleeting smile curved my lips. She reached out, brushing a swarm of golden fireflies suspended above the lake. And for the first time in a long while, I let the wind carry something other than ash and silence.
“This is incredible,” Lempicka cried.
Yeun cut through the air, spinning with grace. “It worked! It finally worked!”
“What?” she asked.
“Look down,” I told her.
She leaned slightly, peering at the lake beneath us. “What is…?”