Chapter 5 - Willow
Willow
I’d brought the Demon Lord to Mochi’s Snack Shack while he gathered his thoughts, but the longer we sat here, the more my mind raced. He was the very first person to read my book and he was like an emotionless stone! I had no idea what he was thinking. Did he hate it? Did he love it?
Nothing. He just kept flipping through my manuscript and casually scribbling notes on another piece of paper like this whole experience wasn’t stressing me out.
I wished I’d never given him my story in the first place.
Then I’d be at the apothecary shop all nice and cozy mixing herbs.
Instead I was here, trying not to grind my teeth too hard.
Mochi slid a third mug of hot cocoa across the counter to me.
I caught it and took a long drink, downing the warm cocoa like it was nectar from the gods.
It warmed me up and gave me a nice sugar rush as I licked whipped cream off my lip.
Mochi had even added marshmallows to this one, upping the sugar content with each mug he’d given me.
“One more please, Mochi.” I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. I wished the Demon Lord would just say something. Anything. “With cookies too maybe?”
A soft furry paw patted my arm as if the red panda was consoling me. His fluffy tail swayed behind him as he chirped something incomprehensible.
The Demon Lord smirked. “He’s cutting you off.”
“What?” I glanced at all the empty mugs next to me. Maybe I had had a bit too much. “But it’s just cocoa! It’s not like I’m drinking dragon’s breath ale or something.”
Plus, it was the only thing distracting me from the Demon Lord’s very slow notetaking.
I just wanted to know what he thought already.
Was that really so hard? I sighed, lying my head on the wooden counter as I traced a tiny scorch mark the dragons must have left behind.
It was sweet how they had all worked together making this for Mochi.
The red panda tilted his head at me, his ears twitching as one more mug of cocoa appeared in his paws. This one had whipped cream, marshmallows, chocolate shavings, and mini cookies in it too.
“Thank the gods,” I murmured, then winced. “I mean, thank the pandas!”
Mochi’s chatter almost sounded like a laugh as he pawed my hand one more time.
I scratched behind his ears, my fingers getting lost in the soft fur of his coat.
He was one of my favorite story spirits, so adorable and always watching out for everyone.
I just wished I could understand him like the other story spirits could.
He leaned into my hand, eyes closed in bliss. If a good scratch was all he wanted in return for the many, many cocoas and good company, I’d gladly oblige.
Mochi chirped and moved away as he busied himself with setting up food for the lunch rush later.
“Okay, I can’t take this anymore. Give it to me straight.” I sat up, steeling myself for the Demon Lord’s response. “You hated it, right? That’s why you’re taking so long to answer?”
He paused, actually paused, and the whole world felt like it was crashing down on my shoulders. My pulse raced as I rubbed my sweaty palms on my pants. Maybe drinking that much hot cocoa wasn’t the best idea. I was burning up here.
“I liked it,” he finally admitted. “It’s got a lot of potential.”
Potential? Having potential was what people said about houses that were falling apart but could be nice if you put years worth of work into them.
I downed more cocoa. “So you didn’t love it, huh?”
“What, no, I said I liked it.” He frowned at me. “You’ve got a bit of, well, you’re covered in whipped cream.”
My face warmed as I wiped the cream off my lip, waiting for him to say more.
“You’ve got a unique voice.” He glanced at his notes, but my mind was already racing.
Unique voice usually meant it was super weird and not something a person would enjoy reading.
The book was about a Queen giving up her right to the throne once she accomplished all her goals.
She also proved she didn’t need love to get anything done, which admittedly wasn’t the expected route to take.
Maybe that had been a terrible idea and the story really didn’t have a chance. I should just forget about it and move on. Grandpa would be proud that I’d given writing a try finally and that was all that mattered...right? Gran would have to be okay with that.
The Demon Lord sighed. “Why does it seem like everything I say is sending you into a depressed cocoa binge? You wanted the truth, but you’re barely listening.”
“Sorry...go on.”
“Since you seem to want the bad news first, here it is: your characters are hard to identify with.” He paused, as if waiting for me to freak out again, before continuing.
“The plot is really good and I love the worldbuilding, but it’s missing the raw emotions.
The story has such big highs and lows with a tragic ending for the romance, but their feelings barely scratched the surface.
With a plot like that, I should have been emotionally destroyed by the end and cursing your name, but I kind of just set the book down and was done.
Personally, I think it would satisfy a lot more readers if you let them get together in the end. It felt...abrupt when the Queen left.”
Was romance really all that mattered to people?
Sure, it was the bestselling genre out there, but there had to be a place for realistic endings too.
Sometimes people just didn’t work together and that was fine.
I’d had plenty of old boyfriends call me cold and distant, but we still managed to be friendly when we saw each other. That’s just how life went sometimes.
I guess I could have made it clearer that my characters were ending as friends. Maybe that would help...
“Wait.” I threw an arm out toward him. “Do you actually read romance novels?”
He shrugged, taking a small sip of the cocoa Mochi had given him a half hour ago. “A few. There was only so much to do in an empty library for months.”
The image of him reading fluffy romances hidden away in his corner of the library made me laugh. It felt good to laugh and forget about my own book for a moment.
“So what kind do you like?” I leaned forward on my elbows. “Sweet romances with lots of fluff or dark romances where the villain gets the girl?”
His eyes widened. “There are romances about villains?”
“So, so many,” I said with a grin. “Actually, you’re kind of like some of them. A shadow daddy in the flesh.”
He choked on his cocoa, sputtering. “What in the nine realms is a shadow daddy?”
I scooted closer, as if I was telling him some big secret.
“Well, it’s basically a guy who’s dark and mysterious.
And he has control over shadows, of course.
” I nodded at the shadows suddenly flitting around him.
“Usually, he’s morally gray or a straight up villain with touch her and you die vibes that are extremely sexy. ”
A tiny blush swept across his face. “And you think I’m one of these...shadow daddies?”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the awkward way he said it, like the words were something completely ridiculous.
“Definitely, you’re the biggest shadow daddy I’ve ever met.”
He drank his cocoa slowly, avoiding eye contact until, eventually, he mumbled, “thank you.”
My stomach fluttered. That sincerity of his always caught me off guard.
“Anytime.” I downed the rest of my cocoa in one big gulp. “Now, back to my book. Thanks for reading it, but I think I’ve got the picture.”
“I don’t think you understand anything. I liked your story. Truly.”
I reached for my book, but his shadows curled around it possessively. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. “You were supposed to be honest, remember? The whole you’re not my friend or my family thing?”
“You really haven’t been listening, have you?” He picked up my book, holding it like it was something precious. “I said I like your book. It needs some work, sure, but the bones are good. You just need to stop holding back and let your emotions flow.”
I blinked at him, staring at his ashen gray skin and dark purple eyes. He was from a book, so he should know what made a story good. I’d let him read it for a reason, so if I was just going to ignore everything he said, what was the point?
“So you… you actually liked it?” I whispered. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
He raised an eyebrow, giving me his trusty are-you-an-idiot look. “I said I liked it. Honestly, I liked it so much I was going to ask you to write the last book in my series too, but if this is how you respond to compliments maybe I shouldn’t.”
“Wait, what?” I clenched my empty cocoa mug tight. “Do you realize how famous your series is? Everyone’s been waiting for that final book for years. There’s no way a no-name like me could do it justice.”
“There’s a contest going on right now and anyone can join.” He gave me a blank stare. “Even no-names like you.”
“That’s not really the issue here. People not liking my book is one thing, since I’m the only one who really cares about that, but messing up your series? Oh boy would that suck. Thousands, no, hundreds of thousands of fans would be knocking down my door ready to tell me what a bad job I did.”
And the pain of that massive failure would eat me alive.
It had already hurt so much hearing that the story gods didn’t like my book, so I couldn’t imagine hearing that from thousands of people at once.
Even if they said it in a polite way, it would still hurt like daggers in my chest. Why would I risk that?
I bit my lip as the Demon Lord patiently waited for me to calm down.
He was the one I’d really hurt if I messed up that final book, and I especially didn’t want to disappoint him.
“I’d probably just mess it up.” I glanced away from the surprisingly kind gaze of his. “I’m too new to this writing thing, and you said it yourself: my book lacks emotion. So what if I ruined your ending?”
He sighed. “I’m worried that’s what everyone else is going to do. All anyone’s talked about is the big battle between me and the hero. They just assume I’m going to get killed off so the golden boy can be victorious, but nobody seems to care about me or my side of the story.”
Sadness tinged his words, real enough that I caught myself looking at him again. Worry lines creased his forehead and his lips were tight. Now that I’d met him, and gotten to know him a bit, that kind of ending didn’t feel right for his story.
“So you want the hero to lose?” I asked.
“No, it’s his book, so the hero has to win, but I don’t want to be just a stepping stone to his victory. I want to be a mountain standing in his way.” He glanced up at me. “That kind of ending is something only a writer with a unique voice like you could pull off.”
Suddenly, the word unique sounded like high praise instead of the insult I thought it was earlier. He’d put a lot of thought into this and was trusting me to give him the kind of ending he deserved, instead of just letting the hero defeat him in the classic good vs evil showdown.
But was I good enough to do that? What if I let him down?
“I don’t think–”
“You’re too afraid to write my last book, aren’t you?
” His shoulders slumped. “Fine. I’ll find somebody else.
” The Demon Lord stood up and started walking away with the saddest look on his face, making me feel like I’d failed him before I even tried.
I said I was never going to write another book again though.
I couldn’t go back on that just because a handsome guy was giving me puppy dog eyes, right?
I wasn’t a real writer. I was an apothecary.
I took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Finding another writer sounds like a good idea. I can help you look for somebody if you want.”
“Really?” He frowned at me, confusion clear in his eyes.
“I thought it would be a great opportunity for you. If you’re worried about your skills, don’t.
I promise, you’re talented. I wouldn’t have asked you to write my story if I didn’t believe that.
The world deserves to read your books, and my series can help you with that.
” He moved closer, putting his hands on the snack shack on either side of me.
“If you’re worried about the emotional parts, I can help you with those.
I want to feel something real. Something my story never let me feel before.
We can make this book amazing. Together. ”
The familiar scent of old parchment and something smokey, almost like vanilla, enveloped me as he stood there, staring into my eyes.
His confident gaze soothed my panic. He not only liked my story, but he wanted me to write his too.
That was baffling, but it also felt kind of nice.
If the Demon Lord believed I could do this, then maybe I should have a little confidence in myself too.
It was only one book. How hard could it be to write?
Memories of the Tales and Tomes Festival invaded my mind.
I couldn’t just forget all the long nights, early mornings, and exhausted editing sessions where words barely even felt real anymore.
Writing that last book had been the hardest thing I’d ever done, and the gods just laughed it off.
My chest ached, remembering the despair I’d felt reading that note in front of all those people at the festival.
“I just can’t do it.” I shook my head, pushing past him as I got off my stool. “I don’t want to feel like that ever again. I’m an apothecary, not a writer. Find somebody else.”
Tears burned my eyes, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Not when that kindness of his had almost swayed me into doing something I’d regret. This was for the best. I didn’t need to write some book to feel fulfilled. I was already happy as an apothecary.
I wiped the tears from my cheeks as I slowly left the library, each step feeling worse and worse. If this was really the right decision, then why did it feel so awful?