“Perhaps the sting of defeat wouldn’t have cut so deep, but he turned his back on us.” Fernand downed the last shimmering remnants in his glass.
Georgia and Flora sat silently.
Balthazar’s voice echoed in Sylvie’s head:You’ve always been a disappointment.
Even with some of Sylvie’s epic fails, her parents had always been her biggest fans. When she was eight, she’d tried to make a unicorn cake. Somehow it ended up looking like a duck. Her dad still took a picture of it, and her mom proudly displayed it on the fridge.Sometimes the difference between failure and success is in the eye of the beholder.
“Winning was everything to my father. Of course, it would’ve been nice to win. But there are things that matter more. He never understood that.”
Sylvie quickly pulled her gaze away. She already knew how Balthazar had treated his son. Now Godard’s memories made her feel like she was a Peeping Tom, spying somewhere she didn’t belong.
“What’s this?” Fernand hovered over the looking glass.
Sylvie pulled her attention back.
Someone with short blonde hair was working at the stove in Zotter’s deserted skybox.
Sylvie gasped. “It’s Josephine.”
Fernand glanced at her. “How did your friend put it? Winner. Winner. Chicken dinner?”
Georgia gave an approving nod. “You’re catching on.”
Fernand double-tapped his Blade, zooming in on the scene.
Puff pastry rounds, full of mushrooms, were now resting on a table as Josephine brushed egg wash on top.
“There’s theVindicti-au-vent.With that amount, once they go into the oven, the aroma will fill the arena in a matter of minutes. Luckily, they’ll need to rest before she can bake them. But we’re going to need more pastels.” He gestured toward the jar of almonds on his desk, shimmering like drops of sunlight. “With these stuffed inside the sweet candies, sorrow doesn’t stand a chance. Almonds don’t allow one’s hope to die.”
Sylvie had only tasted almond pastels once, at a wedding. They’d been covered in crunchy white sugar and tucked into little bags made of organza. It made her think of love and happiness, not countercurses and forbidden spells.
“I learned about pastels in confectionary class,” said Flora. “The sugar coating is designed to take away the bitterness of certain spells… . But don’t you have to eat them for it to work?”
“Yes,” said Fernand.
“But there are thousands of people out there. Handing them out will take ages,” said Sylvie.
“I know,” said Fernand.
Sylvie stared at the screen. Josephine pulled something small and round out of her pocket.
A cwtch.
She lifted the sparkling ball in her hand. Something was twisting and twirling inside like a trapped butterfly. Sylvie’s gaze narrowed. It was a woman, but not just any woman.
“Mom!” Sylvie’s insides turned hollow.Are we too late?She lunged for the mirror. “Mom. I’m sorry!”
But her mom couldn’t hear her. She shouted something at Josephine. Sylvie tried to figure out what, but it was like trying to read an insect’s lips.
“It’s okay, Sylvie.” Fernand rested a hand on her shoulder. “We still have time.”
The image of Sylvie’s mom grew fuzzy. Tears filled her eyes. “We have to go,now. We have to rescue her!”
Fernand let out a deep breath as he stared into the mirror. “Now that your mom is trapped with Josephine, we’re going to have to take a different approach.” Fernand walked over to his desk. “I have to try and make Josephine listen to reason.”
“No offense,” said Georgia, “but as far as plans go, that one is about as solid as a slice of Swiss cheese.”
Agreed.Sylvie tried to quell her guilt.The forbidden recipe she’d cooked. The drops of blood Josephine took to break down the protection spells.All of it had led to this moment. “Talking won’t save my mom. We need to create a diversion.”
