“It will,” Wren said, offering him a smile. Gods, she had missed this incorrigible man.
“Thank you, Wren,” Hale said softly. “For giving me a second chance. To be your friend.”
“Everyone deserves a second chance,” she said, clearing her throat and wiping her eyes. Dark streaks of kohl came off on her fingers. “Ugh.”
“You look perfect,” he said tenderly.
She let out a little laugh. “Back to your flattery so soon?”
He held out a hand. “I have a lot of pent-up flattery from Mistress Violena’s. That woman needed no encouragement.”
“Poor Bart. So many admirers.” Wren took Hale’s outstretched hand and stood.
Hale groaned. “I’ve created a monster.”
“I can’t wait to tell Sable.”
“There will be no telling Sable,” Hale said. “It’s taken me years to get as far as I have with that woman. I won’t have you setting things back.”
Wren arched an eyebrow. “And just how far have you gotten?” she teased.
Hale turned as red as a ripe cherry at her jest, coloring down to his collarbones. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“You’ll have to be extra nice if you want me to keep quiet,” Wren said as the two doormen opened the glass double-doors before them. “This is going to be fun,” she said, smiling to herself as Hale escorted her into the restaurant.
Hale took in the restaurant’s elegant landscape of wood and linen with detached interest. Slate gray curtains hung like velvet sheets of rain, dividing the restaurant into sections. In the center, the soaring ceiling was the main attraction, an expanse of skylights revealing the first stars of twilight. It mattered little. There was only one thing he truly searched for-—his eyes scanning the room like those of a dying man searching endless sand dunes for a hint of water. Sable.
“You still seeing Prince Imbris?” Hale asked as they followed a server in a black evening gown through the maze of tables.
“Not that it’s any of your business…but yes,” Wren said, a thread of annoyance in her tone.
“Just catching up, chickadee,” Hale said. “No need to get defensive.” He bit back a bawdy comment—the flush on Wren’s cheeks at the mention of Imbris was almost too good to refuse. But that was the old Hale, he told himself. He was the new Hale. He’d had a lot of time to think during his month at Mistress Violena’s. And some things had to change. He would prove to Wren that she could trust him. Sable too.
They found Callidus and Sable tucked into a back corner of the restaurant, conversing in hushed tones. As it always did, his stomach tightened at the sight of her. She was a vision, her cobalt dress hugging her curves like liquid silk. She held a flute of sparkling wine in her hand, and Callidus sipped amber liquid from a crystal highball glass. A table draped in white linen and polished silverware sat behind them, the candles casting shadows on their faces. Hale stilled his hands at his sides, resisting the urge to straighten his waistcoat or smooth back his hair.
“Hale, Wren.” Sable nodded at each of them with a tight smile. “I’m so happy you two have patched things up.” The last word held a note of a question, and Wren nodded. Sable visibly relaxed, a genuine smile breaking onto her face.
“Yes, so glad our very own Guild drama could be resolved amicably,” Callidus said dryly, examining Hale in exasperation.
“Callidus, too much bitters in that Old Fashioned?” Hale remarked.
Wren stifled a laugh beside him as a sour look passed across Callidus’s face.
“There must be a keg of beer somewhere around here that you can lift,” Callidus remarked. “Something to keep you artisans from getting bored while the Grandmasters talk business.”
Hale grimaced as the dig found its mark. Hale had been petitioning Sable to be raised from artisan to master for months now. Sable had raised Wren from journeyman to artisan soon after she had exposed Greer. What would it take for her to raise him to the rank of master? To see him as an equal? Anger flared and a retort was on his lips before he could stop it. “Tell me, Callidus,” said Hale, “is this what undertakers are wearing this fall? I see you’ve managed to get the look down perfectly.” His suit was indeed entirely black, down to his waistcoat.
Callidus’s long, thin fingers twitched by his side, as if they longed to find their way around Hale’s throat. The feeling was mutual. Sable would have been worth ten of Callidus as Guildmaster.
Callidus replied. “You might be surprised to find that life does not, in fact, revolve around fashion. I’ve been busy negotiating on behalf of our Guild.”
Sable and Wren exchanged an exasperated look.
“And how are negotiations coming along?” Hale asked. “I’ve heard that so far, you’ve managed to take a week to negotiate something that should have taken a few hours. Impressive indeed.”
“Hale.” Sable’s voice cracked like a whip.
Hale winced. Too far. Thirty seconds in and old Hale had already reared his head. You have to do better than that.
Callidus’s face turned even paler, his dark eyes narrowing.
“Callidus,” Sable soothed, laying a hand on his arm. “It was a jest.”
“What a fool I was,” Callidus said, setting his glass down hard on the table. “I let you talk me into this. I knew it was a bad idea to have all of us here. The whole thing’s off.”
“Callidus,” Sable pleaded, tightening her grip on Callidus’s arm as he started to walk away.
“But he’s not here yet,” Wren protested. “This concerns all of us. We should all be here. Hale will behave, right?”
“He?” Hale asked, looking between Sable and Callidus and Wren. “Who is ‘He?’”
“He,” Callidus said, “is him.” He pointed a long, spindly finger across the restaurant, and Hale caught sight of man coming towards them. Well, more of a boy, really.
“What am I missing?” Hale asked. Sable hadn’t told him why she had summoned him back from Leads, only that she wanted him to be back in Maradis in time for dinner.
“He’s Gifted,” Wren whispered, leaning over.
Hale raised an eyebrow. Another Gifted confectioner? That was good news.
“His name is Thom,” Callidus hissed. “Let me talk.”
“Thom Percival.” Callidus held out his hand to shake the boy’s.
“Yes,” Thom said. “Er, well, that’s me. Good to see you again, sir.”
“Guildmaster Mikel Callidus, head of the Confectioner’s Guild,” Callidus said, his chest puffed up with pride.
“I’m Wren Confectioner.” Wren offered her hand to the boy, who shook it. “Nice to see you under happier circumstances. I’m an artisan of the Guild. That’s Hale Firena, artisan, and Grandmaster Aiyani Sable.” Sable raised her glass in greeting while Hale gave a shadow of a bow. This would be interesting.
“Can I refresh any drinks?” the server asked. The woman was a tall drink of water—thin and willowy with a mane of jet-black curls piled on her head. She was the type of woman Hale would have gone for in the past. No longer. Mistress Violena has set him straight about some things while mercilessly besting him at game after game of pips. If he wanted Sable, he needed to earn her. Prove himself. And that meant no other women.
“Better not, sir,” Thom said, a sheen of sweat on his brow. Wren shook her head. “Scotch neat,” Hale said, “top shelf, since old Cally is buying.” Sable merely clinked her empty glass with her fingernail. The server disappeared.
“Your master’s shop is the talk of the town,” Callidus said to Thom, businesslike once again. “Wren says the line’s around the block any hour of the day.”
“Hot summer,” Thom said, ducking his head. “We’ve done all right.” Thom had a round jaw and pale skin with a smattering of freckles across his straight nose. His suit was ill-fitting, the knot of his simple black tie not quite right, as if he hadn’t quite remembered how to tie one. The legs of his suit were a bit too short. Though it was the style among some men,
Hale suspected he had just outgrown his suit. So from a poor family, perhaps an orphan, trying to make his way in the world through hard work and skill spinning sugar. Nothing to be ashamed of, Hale reminded himself. It had been years since he had been Hale Firena, son of the wealthiest and most influential minister in Aprica. Now he was just a confectioner, like the rest of them. In a way, they were all strays who had found their way to the Guild.
“What’s your most popular flavor?” Wren asked.
“The strawberry rhubarb, I say.” A flash of a grin betrayed Thom’s pride.
“You came up with that flavor, didn’t you?”
Thom swallowed thickly. “Yes’m.”
“It’s delicious,” Wren said, her brown eyes sparkling. She looked a vision tonight, her auburn hair swept back in intricate curls, her pale skin glowing in the candlelight. It seemed the last month of calm and safety had been good for her. “Truly,” she continued. “It’s the best I’ve ever had.”
Hale swallowed a jest about Imbris’s prowess in bed. New Hale, he told himself. New. Hale.
“I thank you again for your aid yesterday,” Thom said. “I’m not sure what woulda happened if you hadn’t been there.”
“We were just glad to be of service,” Callidus said. “Do you have any idea who attacked you?”
Attack? Hale took this all in with veiled interest. He didn’t want to admit before this newcomer that he was out of the loop.
“Naw,” Thom said. “If they were robbers, they were real bad at it. They didn’t try to take my money.”
“Yes, the inspector didn’t think they had,” Callidus said. “We might have an idea about that. It’s part of why we asked you here tonight.”
Thom’s eyebrows went up.
A uniformed waiter approached, his hand behind his back in a formal greeting. “If you would sit, my guests, dinner is ready.”
Two hours later, Hale found himself wishing he had worn looser pants. The courses had been magnificent. A juicy endive salad with duck confit, grapefruit slices, and toasted hazelnuts to start, followed by a silver tray ladened with ice and glistening oysters laid out like lusty ladies waiting to be plucked. Oysters weren’t Hale’s favorite, despite the endless array of aphrodisiac jokes they conjured up. The little ones were all right, with a hint of sweetness amongst the brine. Then quail pâté smeared on toasted buttery bread, and entrées of steaming cuts of beef with succulent garlic and herb sauce. Hale didn’t think he had eaten a meal so extravagant since Callidus’s Appointment Gala.
“I’ve never eaten nothing so delicious,” Thom said with gusto. He had eaten as much as the rest of them put together, and Hale found his smile mirrored on the faces of the others. His genuine delight was infectious. Thom just might be a good influence on their dysfunctional family.
“I hope you saved room for dessert,” Callidus said as the waiter brought out engraved little bowls of ice cream.
“Woof.” Thom blew out a breath, leaning back in his chair. “I’m up for the challenge.”
Hale took a bite of the ice cream that had been set down before him, and the tingle of magic hit his tongue. It was an exquisite dance of flavor—chunks of dark chocolate and tart black cherries, with an undertone of a syrupy sweet, almost vinegary taste.
“Does this have balsamic vinegar in it?” Wren asked Callidus.
Hale wondered what type of magic this ice cream imparted. He found himself watching Sable across the table as she took a delicate bite of ice cream, her lush lips closing around the spoon. What he would give to be that spoon. A pleasant warmth spread through Hale that wasn’t just from the magic. Was it warm in here?
“That’s our Black Cherry Balsamic,” Thom said, a delighted smile spreading across his face. “Our ice cream’s on the menu here?”
“It’s not,” Callidus said. “I asked them to serve it. It’s one of the things I brought you here to talk about.”
Thom set his spoon down suddenly, sensing the change of mood.
Sable’s eyes snapped open, her expression transforming from a look of divine ice cream enjoyment to one that was all business.
“Is this about the attack?” Thom asked. “You said you’ve got…information?”
“Yes and no,” Callidus said. “First, you must know that you have a gift, Thom. A very rare gift. A gift that we all share.”
“Right. We’re all confectioners.”
“And more,” Callidus said. “The five of us at this table are unique. Special. The confections we make…they’re magic.”
Silence stretched across the table, thick as taffy. Thom let out a disbelieving laugh. “Sorry, I thought you said…magic.”
“I did,” Callidus said.
Thom wiped his mouth with his napkin and carefully placed it on the table. He stood. “Sir, I thank you for the delicious meal. But it’s time I say goodbye.”
“Sit. Down,” Callidus said, his voice thunderous.
Wren recoiled at the tone.
Hale frowned. He had never heard Callidus so forceful before—so commanding.
The words had the opposite effect of what Callidus was no doubt hoping for. Thom’s mouth tightened. “You may be my guildmaster, but you don’t own me, sir. I’m leaving.” This was not good. Thom couldn’t be allowed to leave, not with the secret out of the bag. But if they tried to force him to stay, they might poison him against them and the Guild, making it so much harder when Thom inevitably joined their ranks.
“Thom,” Wren stood, willowy as a reed, her chestnut eyes wide. “Hear us out at least. Then, if you still want to leave, you can go.”
“You do not have the authority to make such promises,” Callidus hissed.
“What are we going to do?” Wren snapped back. “Tie him to a chair for the entirety of his career? It’s his life too. If we can’t convince him we’re worth joining, we don’t deserve to have him with us.”
“You don’t have to do everything the hard way, Callidus,” Sable said softly.
“This isn’t the hard way?” Callidus asked, before letting out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. Wren, convince him. If you think your powers of persuasion are up to the task.”
Hale hoped her powers of persuasion were, in fact, up to the task. But Wren had surprised him in her time at the Guild. As clumsy as she seemed at times, she had a way of always pulling things out of the fire.
“Will you at least listen?” Wren asked.
“Hear her out, Thom,” Hale said gently. “It can’t hurt to know all the facts.”
Thom sat down with a nod and a frown.
And so Wren told him. She still remembered how it felt to be sitting in Thom’s chair, incredulous. She thought she could make him see reason. She hoped.
She shared her story, how she had learned. The miraculous coin flips, the binding wine that sealed the truth inside her lips. Callidus had tried to stop her from telling that secret, but she had stared him down. “We’re doing this my way,” she said. “He deserves to make an informed choice.” The wine didn’t bind her this time, because Thom was one of them. Gifted. She told him about her good luck, and Hale’s gambling prowess. Callidus’s ability to be in the right place in the right time, Sable’s uncanny ability to make connections. The other Guilds, the king, the Accord, everything. Well, not everything. She glossed over Kasper’s murder and the fact that his sister, their own Guildmistress Iris Greer, had done the deed and tried to frame Wren. She didn’t think he needed to know all the dysfunction that plagued their Guild and its tenuous relationship to the crown.
Thom sat silently, taking it in, letting her speak. His expression was unreadable, his arms crossed over his chest like armor. Finally, she was done, and they all sat, looking at him. “’Kay,” Thom said. “I believe you.”
Wren blinked in surprise. “You do? You don’t need a demonstration or something?”
“No. I’ve known for a while, if I’m honest with myself. Weird stuff happens around the shop sometimes.”
Callidus leaned forwards,
his dark hair falling over narrowed eyes. “You know what your magic does, don’t you?”
“It makes you lucky in love.”
Hale chortled, clapping his hands together and making everyone jump. “I can’t wait to have this guy around,” he said, his grin gleaming like a crescent moon. Though his manner was carefree—Hale as his old self—Wren saw how he watched Sable from the corner of his eye. She didn’t respond with her usual banter, instead taking another sip of wine. What was going on between them?
“Consumption of infused food is forbidden to Guild members,” Callidus said icily.
At least as far as King Imbris knew, Wren thought.
“How do you do it, Callidus?” Hale asked.
“Do what?” Callidus responded warily, unable to avoid taking the bait.
“Sit down with that stick shoved so far up your ass?”
Callidus slapped his hands on the table and stood, his chair knocking over behind him with a clatter. “I should have you stripped of rank and beaten for your insolence—” Callidus began.
“Hale,” Sable growled, “Callidus. Please. We’re all on the same side here. We must stick together.”
“Then tell your pet golden retriever to heel,” Callidus said. “I won’t be disrespected.”
Thom was taking in the exchange with wide eyes.
“You get used to it,” Wren whispered.
“They’re worse than my sisters going for a new roll of ribbon,” he whispered back.
Callidus had sat down, straightening his waistcoat.
“Thom,” Wren said, eager to get them back on task. “How do you know what your infused ice cream does?”
“Like I said, there’s been too much weird stuff in the shop to be coincidence,” Thom said. “Sure, ice cream’s romantic, but I’ve seen total strangers stare at each other starstruck across the shop and leave like old flames. It’d make sense.”
Wren frowned, realizing that Lucas’s and her first date had been at the ice cream shop. Had the infused food somehow created feelings between them? Feelings that wouldn’t have been there otherwise? “Do you think it creates romantic feelings? Is that even possible?” she asked, turning to the others.
The Confectioner's Coup Page 3
