I halt mid-step, halfway toward the oven in question, where the previous batch of crescent bread bakes.
Mrs. Fernly swats my shoulder with her oven mitt as she brushes past. “I’m serious. Stop taking my job. This work is beneath you, anyway. You’re one of the wealthiest men on the isle. You don’t need to do grunt work anymore.”
She may be right, butgrunt workis what I miss. I enjoyed working in the kitchen as a child. The smell of butter. The feel of flour. The joy of shaping chaos into orderly perfection. Other than the occasional elite client whom I bake for, most of my work is done behind a desk at Blackwood Estate. Every chance I get to work with sugar and dough is one I’m eager to take.
“Either tell me what’s put you in such a dark mood or leave me be,” she says. “I can’t work around those sullen eyes.”
I release a sigh and lean against the counter but say nothing. I can’t tell her why I’m here. What I did. That I decided to remain in the Lunar Court for a few days to see how the repercussions of my actions would unfold. Will the seelie throne fall under chaos? Will Briony confess what I’ve done? I’m prepared if she does. In fact, I’d almost be relieved. What would it be like to finally live as both identities? Thorne BlackwoodandVintarys Lemuria. I’m sure my name will fall under scrutiny and scandal, but the fate of the seelie throne will be enough to ensure it doesn’t last long.
So why haven’t I heard anything yet?
I clear my throat and adopt a nonchalant tone. “Have the morning papers arrived?”
Mrs. Fernly extracts the tray of freshly baked crescent bread from the oven and sets it on the cooling rack. “Ah, indeed they did. I brought them inside and left them on the storefront counter if you fancy a look. The news on the front page is sure to put everyone into a frenzy of talk today.”
I swallow hard. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Queen Ember is with child, and King Franco is hosting a public celebration at Selene Palace starting tonight. All citizens are welcome to attend all week long. Night above, what a hectic event that will be. I’ll be happy to avoid setting foot anywhere near Selene Palace, though I do wonder if the celebration will result in slow business.”
I frown as I ponder her words. No news of the sleeping seelie royals, yet plenty about King Franco’s party. Surely the king must know what has happened by now. It’s been three days. His sister would have felt the initiation of the curse she placed. Nyxia would have come to Nocturnus Palace to take the bodies to the catacombs, just like she did with my family.
What does it mean that there’s no such news?
An unexpected spark of panic strikes me.
If word has yet to get out…
If Briony has kept mute about my actions…
The sight of her grief-stricken face, her rage, her agony over my betrayal fills my mind. I did what I needed to do. I knew I’d have to hurt her to complete my plan, and I did so willingly.
But what if it was too much for her?
What if the pain sparked not a fiery rage like it did in me fifteen years ago, but a well of sorrow too vast to traverse? What if my cruelty left her without a will to live? What if word about my true identity has been kept out of the papers, not because of Briony’s discretion…but because she…she…
No, I won’t let my mind take such a dark path. I may not know everything about my nemesis, but I believe she’d rather fight than end her life.
But if I’m wrong—
“There’s that melancholy mood again. Get out already, Mr. Blackwood, or you’ll make the bread taste bad.”
I rouse myself from my thoughts and push off the counter. “Maybe you’re right and it’s time I took my leave. I’ve been away from Blackwood Estate for over a week now.”
“That’s a sensible boy.”
I give a halfhearted chuckle at the wordboy. I’m six-and-twenty. She has known me since I was eleven, so I suppose I’ll always be a boy to her.
“Go on, now.” She waves me off with a glare, which is as good as a farewell hug coming from her. Would she act so brashly with me if she knew the truth? Would she speak so freely if she learned I’ve acted against my father’s last wish and sought revenge instead of the peaceful quiet life he gave me? Perhaps it truly is best that I return home before I get a chance to find out.
I exit the kitchen to the storefront, where a half-fae male counts moonstone chips—Lunar Court’s currency—in preparation to open the bakery for the morning. He gives me a nod that is so deep it’s almost a bow. “Good morning, Mr. Blackwood! We’ve been so honored by your presence.”
I suppress a laugh. Not everyone is so determined to get rid of me. Or perhaps the young cashier is simply eager to kiss my ass. I retrieve my jacket from where I draped it over the counter this morning and stroll out the front doors. The sun has risen over the horizon, casting the streets of Gibbous Peak in a hazy glow. Even at full light, the Lunar Court is never quite as bright as other courts. The light is always filtered through an enchanting haze, like that of a partial solar eclipse. Yet it’s still too bright for me to see well without my spectacles. Only dim rooms or nightfall improve my eyesight. I nudge the bridge of my lenses—more out of habit than necessity—and stroll past my bakery’s front window.
Despite the early hour, the streets around me are busy with activity, as most shops will be open within the hour, and this particular street is famed for its breakfast goods. In a matter of minutes, a line will form outside Blackwood Bakery full of hungry patrons craving fresh crescent bread or those picking up cakes for later in the day.
The bakery is located on the corner at one of the busiest intersections in Gibbous Peak, with cafes, inns, and restaurants clustered together. I round the corner and head toward the back of the building where the entrance to my apartment is located, shrugging my jacket over my waistcoat as I go. But I manage only a few steps before a figure crosses the street and merges onto my path.
Angry blue eyes meet mine.
