I looked at Reynard, and at that moment, I knew I needed to get everything out in the open. Beyond coats, beyond secret agendas and labels, Reynard wanted something. Otherwise, they would have never come here personally. “Why are you really here, Reynard?”
“To be honest with you…” They leaned against my work counter with casual elegance. “No matter what trickery I may have used in the past—and darling, I have used quite a lot—I’m going to win this challenge fair and square. I want you to know that.”
It wasn’t a taunt, or any kind of mockery. Reynard stated it as a simple reality.
“Grix said we’re ahead in his estimations.”
“I’m sure that clever little kobold filled your heads with all sorts of numbers,” Reynard drawled. “But you should know better than anyone, Hazel… Numbers are empty. They don’t mean anything to people like us. People who’ve already been measured and weighed and found wanting.”
They were right. I’d spent my entire life being reduced to numbers. Dress size, weight, profit margins, Nana’s net worth versus my bank account. Numbers that told everyone exactly how much I was worth and how far short I fell from what I should be.
“What’s your approach, then, Reynard?” I asked, because if numbers didn’t matter, something else had to. The Joy Coefficient measured something real, something that mattered to the magic that chose Heralds of Spring. Barnaby was winning there, but Reynard seemed so sure.
Reynard’s smile widened with genuine delight. “Are you trying to wriggle my secret strategy out of me? Clever girl. Tell you what. Let’s make a trade. A treat for a reply. Fair exchange.”
I looked at my perfect chocolate truffles, each one crafted with precision and care. Then, I glanced at Reynard. They were standing in my shop, offering honesty in exchange for chocolate. It should have felt like betrayal, giving something meant for Barnaby to his opponent. But Reynard was also my friend, and friends deserved honesty.
I selected one of the best truffles and handed it across the counter.
Reynard took it with reverence, examining the perfect spiral. They bit into it slowly, and their eyes closed with genuine appreciation.
“Exquisite,” they said after swallowing. “The balance of bitter and sweet, the texture of the ganache, the way the orange brightens everything without overwhelming… This is art, Hazel. Real art.”
They sounded like they meant it, and despite the complicated circumstances, pride warmed my chest. “Thank you.”
“It’s a shame, though.” Reynard set down the remaining half of the truffle. “All this effort, all this care you’re putting into keeping Barnaby’s joy high… It will all be wasted.”
I recoiled, already afraid of what I was about to hear. “What do you mean?”
“Even if Barnaby’s Joy Coefficient is high right now, even if he’s faster and stronger and more energized than he’s been in years…” Reynard’s expression turned sad, almost pitying. “There’s no greater joy than self-acceptance, darling. True, complete acceptance of exactly what you are without apology or shame. That’s the joy that resonates most deeply with the magic of spring. And that’s something someone like Barnaby can never understand.”
I wanted to argue, wanted to defend Barnaby. The words just didn’t come. Because I’d seen how Barnaby looked at himself. I’d seen his anxiety, his panic. He was getting better, getting stronger, but was he actually accepting himself? Or was he just running faster from thethings he didn’t want to face? Were my chocolates helping him solve a problem, or were they just a Band-Aid?
The air around Reynard shimmered. Their outline blurred and shifted, and suddenly a fox stood on my shop floor. Red-gold fur, sharp, intelligent eyes, that same knowing smile somehow visible even in an animal’s face.
“Good luck, Hazel.” The fox’s voice was the same, unchanged by the transformation. “And do tell the Osterhase this for me. May the best Herald of Spring win.”
Reynard vanished between one blink and the next. They left nothing behind except the expensive coat on my counter.
I stood there alone in my shop, surrounded by chocolates that suddenly felt inadequate. Reynard was my friend. Reynard was also Barnaby’s opponent. I understood refusing labels. I also understood that I’d chosen my side.
It should have been as easy as that. But I was beginning to realize nothing about this challenge was easy.
Reynard’s words about self-acceptance kept echoing in my head. What if they were right? What if all the joy in the world couldn’t compete with someone who genuinely accepted exactly what they were?
I picked up my piping bag and tried to focus on making the next truffle perfect, but my hands weren’t quite steady anymore.
There was only so much training anyone could get under their belt before a competition. Push too hard, and it would be detrimental. It was a delicate balance, one I’d almost ruined with Barnaby. I’d finally gotten it right with Hazel’s help. Which was why, the night before the Challenge, I kicked him out of the Iron Grove.
“Go get some rest. Soak in your Sicilian pool. Or whatever it is you do to relax. Tomorrow is your big day. You’re ready.”
Barnaby had whined for another ten minutes before finally accepting that I wasn’t backing down. Now, he was hopefully sleeping in his comfy bed. As for me… I hoped I’d wriggle my way into another bed entirely.
The Cocoa Bean’s lights were still on past closing time. Through the front window, I could see Hazel bent over something on the counter, alone in the warm glow.
Thank the gods for Grix. Otherwise, I’d have never been able to come visit her like this.
I reached for the door handle, eager to have her in my arms. And then, the scent hit me. Fox. Wolf. The trace was sharp and recent, a few hours old at most. Isengrim and Reynard had been here. Inside her space.While I’d been miles away arguing with a rabbit about muscle strain.
