Chapter Nineteen Lyra #3
Flour exploded. Butter smeared on my elbow. Something sizzled ominously. I shouted. Rab shouted. At one point, I was ninety percent sure I’d tried to zest his hand instead of the orange.
And suddenly—despite the frustration and the absolute absurdity of it—I started to laugh.
Really laugh.
Because here we were, blind and bound, with truffle batter somehow on the ceiling, and Rab just kept going. He took every mistake in stride, listened carefully, gave me specific directions, teased me gently when I flubbed up, and never once lost his temper.
I could also hear the other teams growling at missed or splattered ingredients, which somehow soothed my issues.
This would look hilarious on the show. Eventually, despite chaos in every step of the recipe, Rab claimed he thought we had it close to being finished.
The truffles were rolled, what few of them I could make from what ingredients weren’t splattered across the ceiling, and Rab assured me they looked beautiful.
Which I seriously doubted, but at this point, I was happy to have anything on the plate at all.
It was now time to infuse the truffles with magick.
“ ‘Now,’ ” Rab read from the recipe, “ ‘infuse the truffles with a memory of Christmas joy. One that stirs the soul.’ ”
I reached for something—anything—not involving Rab. But the memories slid around, stubborn. The warmest ones refused to surface. Christmas had always been a tricky time for my family.
Until—
“Do you remember the Christmas we built that snow fort?” Rab asked quietly.
I stilled. “Aye.”
“You almost got frostbite on your nose and pummeled me with snowballs.”
“You always underestimated my throw.” I smiled, remembering the snowball that had splattered across his shocked face.
“I did.”
“Snow and laughter, frost and flight. Seal this treat with winter’s bite,” I recited, my magick rippling through my fingers.
Reaching up, I wrapped one hand around my necklace, feeling the charm warm against my palm.
Rab leaned in, his shoulder touching mine, and I gasped as his magick met mine, two streams converging, his stronger and directing the flow of mine.
The blindfold tightened, warmth surging down into my palms. I didn’t need to see the truffles to know the magick had worked. A gentle hum filled the air. The scent of zested orange and gooey chocolate wafted up.
“Well, I’ll be damned…” Kelly said.
We’d done it. We’d done a trust-based exercise, despite our broken history, with my complicated magick on top, and somehow had managed to work as a team.
When the round ended, I yanked the blindfold off. Rab stood there, arms still bound, looking rumpled and ridiculous… and heartbreakingly handsome.
I held up a perfectly formed Christmas truffle. “We did it.”
“Aye, we did.” Rab gave me an approving nod.
And even with chocolate batter in his hair and a piece of orange zest stuck to his chin, I thought…
maybe. Just maybe we might be able to become something new together.
Friends, I rushed to tell my heart, which had seemed to shiver in excitement at my thoughts.
Just friends. That might be nice. Surely we can pull that off?
Feeling confident for the first time in this competition, I preened down at the Christmas truffle. Maybe my magick was finally working. Was it possible I could start tentatively believing in myself? I straightened my shoulders, cautiously optimistic.
Until the judges walked over.
Kelly clapped her hands. “All right, teams! Time to taste your Trust Truffle creations. We’ll be judging on presentation and taste.”
Nevin headed to Team Elf first. Their truffles shimmered with enchanted gold dust and puffed out a little burst of sugar snow when cut.
“Presentation… ten,” Kelly said without hesitation. “And that flavor? Ten.”
“Agreed,” Nevin said, offering his hand. “Simply divine.”
Of course.
Next was Henry’s table. Their truffles were neat, if a bit plain.
“Nice shape,” Nevin said. “I’d give it an eight for presentation.”
“And I’ll match that for taste,” Kelly agreed.
Then came Mandy and Felicity.
Kelly sliced one open. A glossy center of gooey chocolate oozed out, topped with a tiny bit of holly made of candied peel.
“Gorgeous,” she breathed. “Really well done. I’d give it a ten for presentation and an eight for flavor. Very impressive.”
Felicity squeaked. Mandy just smirked like the scores were a foregone conclusion.
Then it was our turn.
Rab straightened a little. I sucked in a breath and waited, nerves pinging around my stomach.
Kelly cut into one of our truffles. And though it smelled divine, the center wasn’t as smooth or as well shaped as Mandy’s had been.
“Not bad, though a little rustic. The shell could have been better formed,” Kelly said. “I’d give this a seven for presentation.”
Nevin took a bite, chewed, and gave a brief nod. “Good flavor. Nice orange and spice. A seven for taste. Well done.”
My breath left me in a tiny whoosh. We’d done it. It wasn’t amazing, but it wasn’t also a total catastrophe.
“Aw,” Mandy drawled from her station. “Kind of like a participation award, isn’t it?”
My smile withered.
Felicity bit her lip like she wanted to say something, but Mandy was already turning away, triumphant.
The cameras zoomed in because of course they did.
My throat tightened, and that old familiar feeling of thinking I was a failure washed over me like a cold wave.
I hated it.
And I hated that Rab, standing there with his wrists still tied behind his back, was staring at me with that look.
The one that meant he wanted to help.
But he didn’t move.
And I turned away before he could say anything.
Because if he tried to comfort me… if he tried to say anything at all… I wasn’t sure my fragile newfound confidence could take it.
I wasn’t sure I could take it.
So I set my truffle down, pasted on a smile that felt brittle as sugar glass, and walked off the set before my emotions betrayed me on live television.
Behind me, I heard Rab suck in a breath like he was going to come after me.
But he didn’t.
And I didn’t look back.