Hansel had bought us a map, and he kept talking about the map like it was an assurance of safety. The moment I started to wonder if the bears would smell our food, or whether we could walk fast enough to reach shelter for the night, he would say, “It’ll be all right. We have the map. We’ll stick to the Queen’s Road.”
Friends and neighbors waved us goodbye. Kurt asked me to write him, but I knew he was barely capable of writing back. We set off down the path to meet the Royal Road, and Aupenburg disappeared behind the pines.
We trudged along, exchanging comments on unusual roadside mushrooms or cheerfully noting the presence of familiar farmsteads, for at this point we were not far from home.
Then, the forest seemed to grow thicker and darker and older. The trees blotted out the sun almost entirely. The air grew cooler and smelled of moist leaves and ancient, unfamiliar life. Vines crawled into the path; leaves and pinecones littered the old pave-stones and then the stones ended altogether.
Hansel looked at the map. “It looks as if we keep going straight to reach the Queen’s Road.”
“Are you sure we didn’t miss the fork?”
“Did you see anything that looked like a fork?”
“No.”
“Well, Gretel, what else do you want me to say?”
“I—just—I don’t know. This barely looks like a road at all. I’m wondering if we were supposed to turn somewhere and we missed it. Maybe the sign fell.”
“So you’re saying we should turn back? But the last homestead must have been two hours behind us.”
“Shouldn’t we have reached Pillna by now?”
By the way, following a map is a great way to bond with a loved one. I highly recommend it if you want it all to end in a suicide pact. We must have spent twenty minutes arguing over the map as the sun crept lower and lower. Soon we were squinting at the parchment in the waning light.
Finally, we decided it was better to turn back and find the last homestead before the sun went down. At worst, we would lose a few hours and would have to sleep in their barn. That sounded better than getting eaten by wolves.
But as we were walking, we thought we noticed something that might have been the fork in the road to reach Pillna. There was no sign. No wonder we missed it; we had been looking for a road, not a path. An old pile of horse droppings indicated that it must go somewhere.
We decided to make an attempt to reach Pillna before the sun went down.
I had never walked so much in one day. I was sweating, stray hairs flying out of my golden braids.
Hansel kept looking at me.
“What?” I said.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Why do you keep looking at me like that?”
His legs, longer and stronger than mine, forged up a steep section of rocky pathway. Then he turned and offered his hand to me. “I’m thinking how I might have made a terrible mistake. How we might die in this damn forest.”
“We’re not—going—to die,” I panted, gripping his arm.
“It’s almost dark. I shouldn’t have brought you along.”
“So you can die alone?”
“I might have made it, on my own. If I didn’t, at least—”
“You think we’re going to die because I slowed us down?” I put my hands on my knees, catching my breath. “If we die out here, it’s because we have a stupid map for these stupid roads.”
“It’s not your fault you’re fragile,” he said.
“I’m not fragile.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt because of me,” he said. “I should have insisted that you stay at home where it’s safe, where you belong. You should have married Kurt. Why can’t you just be satisfied with that?”
I made a sharp exhalation of anger. “This is my choice,” I said. “How many times do I have to tell you, I don’t want to live and die in Aupenburg!”
We walked in silence. Darkness fell fast in the forest, because it was already so dark to begin with, and deep down I wondered if he was right. I didn’t want to die in Aupenburg, but I definitely didn’t want to die in the middle of the forest.
“A light,” he whispered.
“What?” I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right.
“Look, in the distance.”
Now I saw it too. Two lights, actually. Candles burning in the deepening dusk.
We picked up our pace. By the time we reached the source of the light, it was almost entirely dark, but the candles were in mirrored lanterns that amplified their glow. They illuminated the door of the most beautiful cottage I had ever seen.
The entire cottage was painted, first white so it stood out in the dark forest, and then with little scenes. Dancing maidens, musicians, ships pulling into harbor, foxes and bears and deer peering out of trees: those were the door panels, clearly lit by the candles. The rest was painted too, with patterns of flora and fauna in knot-like designs.
“Faery art, isn’t it?” Hansel said warily. “What is this doing out here?” Faeries were more prevalent to the north and west.
But perhaps even more alluring than the art was something neither of us could resist: the aroma of chocolate, so thick and dark and luscious that I wondered if I was dreaming. I imagined this was the smell of the royal patisseries in the grandest cities in the realm, and here it was, in the middle of the forest.
“I don’t like this,” Hansel said. “This has to be witchcraft.”
“I’d rather die eating enchanted chocolate than be eaten by forest beasts,” I said. I knocked on the door.
The door opened for us, but no one was there. Even I got a little nervous at that. But it only lasted a moment. “Look!” I gasped.
The interior was well lit with candles and a counter was spread with chocolates and pastries. It looked like the interior of a shop. No one in the world could have resisted the smell of sugar and butter and toasted nuts that wafted out. The cakes were uncut and sitting out to cool in a row, seven of them, all swathed in icing. The candies were absolutely countless. Truffles and bon bons caked in chopped nuts and coconut, colorful ribbons of crackling sugar, neat squares of caramel. Many of these things I had only seen in a cookbook and not in real life.
It was a feast for every sense I had. Not just the smell and the promise of their taste, but the pure sight of all their colors and textures…
“Don’t touch,” Hansel growled behind me.
I glared at him. My hands hadn’t moved—yet. But he knew me too well.
Then, I heard a distinct male chuckle behind one of the doors to the interior of the house. Hansel and I instinctively edged closer together.
Old hinges creaked open. A faery man walked in.
I wondered how I could have ever found Kurt Horner attractive.
He was tall, with dark curls that were just long enough to run my fingers through, and golden eyes that drove into my heart the moment they sought mine—which was immediately. He was not as strapping as the farm boys back home, but radiated a more complex strength, as if he had magic along with some muscle, and a considerable amount of grace as well. He moved like he knew how to dance. He had enough experience with life that he knew almost everything about a person the moment he laid eyes on them. At least, that was how it felt.
His clothes were the only disappointment. Faeries were known for their elegant and beautiful clothing, but he wore nothing but a sturdy gray shirt and black trousers with a flour-dusted apron over them. He might have been our town baker, in that regard.
“Good evening,” he said. “Lost, are we?” He turned to Hansel now, after looking at me long enough to weaken my knees. “Maps only go so far when the roads are always changing.”
“My name is Hansel and this is my sister. We’re looking for Pillna,” Hansel said.
“Pillna,” the man said. “Yes. I can point you there in the morning.”
“If you have a place for us to sleep and maybe a bite to eat, well, we can’t offer much, but—“
“I don’t need y
our coin. You’re welcome to my table.”
“Thank you, sir,” Hansel said. His words were a little sharp. He was still suspicious. Any sensible person would have been. For some reason, I was not.
The man opened the door and held it for us. Hansel went ahead. When I passed through, the baker gave me another look. One that I knew was not meant for Hansel to see. He assessed me with his eyes, and it made me shudder to my toes.
He’s weighing me, I thought. Do I measure up? I didn’t know what he wanted. But whatever it was, I hoped I was worthy. Everything about this place was a dream to me. It was surprising and beautiful at every turn.
There was something dark about the faery man himself, and that should have made me hesitate. I should not have wanted to run toward that shadow. His eyes were full of strange knowledge, and I wanted to know it too. I would never be a mere farm girl if I knew what he knew, I thought.
I felt as if he was that elusive thing I had been looking for all my life. I still didn’t quite know what it meant. The feeling rumbled through me like far off thunder preceding a much-needed rain.
He was very polite as he showed us to the table. It was already set with a generous spread, as if we were expected. We took the chairs flanking him, to enjoy roast leg of venison and plenty of different vegetables with ample butter and seasonings, things we could never dream of affording.
“It’s unusual to have company for dinner,” he said.
“Do you usually eat all of this yourself?” Hansel asked.
“No, no. I put whatever is left out for the other wood folk,” he said.
“I didn’t know faeries have to put food out for other faeries,” I said, amused.
“There are different sorts of faeries,” he said. “Civilized faeries like myself share food with the wood faeries.”
“Who are all the cakes for?” Hansel asked.
“It is a bargain I have made,” he said. “If I spend my days making cakes, I can live here.”
“A bargain? What sort of bargain?”
“Are you a dinner guest or an interrogator?” the faery man asked. “You should learn to relax, Hansel.” He filled Hansel’s glass with wine. Then he looked at me again. “You never told me your name.”
“Gretel.”
“Gretel. It seems a very workaday name for you.”
“I am workaday, I’m afraid.”
“Are you?”
“What’s—your name, sir?” I stammered, trying to shake off the renewed sense that he could read my mind.
“Who says I have one?” he said, with a tinge of regret. “Names are lost to men who are mere shadows. I am just the baker of the Shadow-Wald and that is all. Call me simply ‘the Magus’.”
The Magus did not sound simple at all, not the way he said it. It was a seductive and confident purr of a word, and I had to restrain myself from testing it right then and there. The Magus…
“You’re a mage too?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“What kind of magic do you do?”
“A very specialized kind.”
Hansel’s fork clinked noisily against his plate and I quickly looked down to cut up my venison. Hansel didn’t like me talking to this man. He suspected something was afoot, and perhaps he was right. Nothing about this place made sense; a faery man making cakes worthy of a palace out in a tiny cottage in the woods?
The way the Magus looked at me made my pulse race and my body ache with desire. I wished I was wearing my embroidered gown so I looked my best, but it was still in my pack for safekeeping. I felt in some odd way as if I already knew him, and he already knew me. All the little fantasies I’d had about Kurt now seemed like practice for a man like this, and somehow I knew that if we were alone, he would indulge them. Could I get Hansel out of the way?
I jammed a chunk of potato with my fork. Of course not. He’s watching your every move, as he always does. And besides, this is ridiculous. You don’t know this man. You can’t risk pregnancy with a stranger before you go to find a respectable job in the city.
“You are lucky,” the Magus said. “You found this place. The forest must have wanted you to come.”
“If the forest has a mind of its own, I’ll just be glad to leave it,” Hansel said.
I saved a little room in the hopes that the Magus would offer us one of his cakes or at least a taste of a bon bon, but when we were done with our food and the warm laziness of the wine had just started going to my head, he said, “Well, I should make up your beds.”
“Thank you again for your generosity,” Hansel said, in a formal tone. Despite his suspicions, of course he didn’t want to be impolite to a faery mage.
The Magus left the table and I heard his footsteps creak up the stairs. Even that humble sound was alluring when I knew the footsteps belonged to such long, graceful legs.
“You are as pink as a rose,” Hansel said. “Whatever you’re thinking, try to stop thinking it.”
“As long as I can control my actions, I see no need to control my thoughts,” I said.
“I wonder what he meant by that names business,” Hansel said. “‘What did he say? Men with shadows don’t have names…I can’t remember, but it sounded like riddles. What, he doesn’t have any name at all?”
“Names are especially important to the fair folk,” I said. “They use them for spells. I’m sure it’s some custom we don’t know much about.”
“It has something to do with whoever lets him stay here in exchange for baking cakes, I suppose,” Hansel said. “I sure don’t like this place. We’re leaving at first light.”
“Of course…” I thought of the tales about eating faery food and being trapped in their realm forever. But those were old stories. Faeries were more civilized these days.
Was it terrible that I wished they were true?
The Magus returned momentarily as a clock chimed somewhere in the house. “Upstairs, the little room on the left, I’ve made up for you with a bed for each. I hope it suffices and you have a good rest.”
“The privy is out back?” Hansel asked, with a wary glance at me.
“Yes,” the Magus said. “Out the back door in the hall, there.”
“I’ll meet you in the bedroom, Gretel,” Hansel said pointedly.
Well, I knew I’d only have a minute or two with the Magus, but I was eager for them.
But the Magus left the room even before Hansel did. When the back door shut, I took a few brisk steps to catch up with him just before he vanished through another door. He jerked back when he heard me coming. I touched his arm. His skin was cold. “Magus, I just wanted to ask—“
“Don’t touch me.”
It was too late. Where my fingers had brushed his forearm, a line of angry welts appeared, like I burned him.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
He made no move to explain, but quietly rolled his sleeve down and buttoned the cuff. “Do you need something, Gretel?”
“Where do you make all the cakes?”
“Here.” He swung the door open to a kitchen. The oven had a large door to put the cakes in but also a smooth surface on top for pots. The fire must be built in the bottom portion and vented out through a pipe. The long table was dusted with flour and littered with bowls and canisters and jars holding nuts and spices and candied flower petals. The room was stuffy with heat but it smelled marvelous and was such a nice airy space, the walls painted white with cheerful scenes of a feast, that I wished I could stay and watch him work.
“You are still hungry, aren’t you?” the Magus said. “You saved space for dessert.”
“Oh, that was more food than I’ve had in ages already,” I said, trying to be polite.
I already knew there was no fooling him, however. Our mouths said words while our eyes had the true conversation.
He lifted a glass case and picked up a truffle with a pair of small tongs. He lifted the truffle to my mouth. I opened wide. The chocolate smelled dark and almost smoky as it drew near my n
ose. The truffle started melting in my mouth the moment it touched my tongue. I closed my lips and broke the delicate underside of it with the tip of my tongue and was met with dark chocolate and syrup-coated cherries. It was not as sweet as I expected. Bitter and sour, as much as sweet, and yet quite possibly the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted.
“Your brother will be coming back in any minute and I’d rather not get into a brawl with him,” the Magus said. “You should go to bed.”
I nodded, my mouth too full to speak, and went to the bedroom. Two beds, nicer than the ones we had left behind, stood on either side of a window. The truffle melted away in no time, but the taste lingered. Hansel tromped up the stairs noisily but by that time I had already taken off my outer layer and slipped under the covers in my shift, my head on the pillow. Innocent as I could manage.
“It is a nice room, at least,” Hansel said as he took off his shoes, regarding the beeswax candles burning on the nightstand, their fragrance much sweeter than the tallow we could barely afford. Generous piles of blankets topped the bed, so we could choose what thickness we wanted. It was summer now, but in the forest the night was still very cool.
“Everything here is very nice and cozy,” I said, and it was. But “nice” and “cozy” also seemed ridiculous words for this atmosphere. It was like saying the Shadow-Wald was green and pretty.
“I’ll blow out the candles, then?”
“Yes, goodnight.”
He knocked out both flames with one puff and climbed under the covers.
I tried to shut my eyes. The moon shone directly between a crack in the curtains. I was restless, my body ready for something. My nipples were hard and—ahh—I stroked my wet sex, imagining faery hands caressing me. Hansel was soon breathing deeply in sleep, while I rubbed my clit, sliding deeper into my desires. My tongue still tasted bitter.
I heard wheels sliding on uneven road and hoofbeats outside. The door opened downstairs. Then I heard the Magus say, “We must be quiet. I have guests tonight.”
Tasting Gretel (Fairy Tale Heat Book 7) Page 2