The Confectioner's Coup

by Luana, Claire

  “Beckett. What are you playing at? End this foolishness. Free Callidus,” Sable demanded. “Whatever rivalry there was between you, you know he hasn’t committed treason.”

  Beckett crossed his arms. His plump face was pale, sweaty. “He conspired with the other guildmasters to undermine the king’s interests in Maradis. That is treason.”

  “The only conspiring they did was to get back their Guild members who had been unrighteously kidnapped by the king!” Wren protested.

  “Kidnapped? What a wild imagination you have. Thom has been selected for a prestigious training program by the king. Together with the other Guild members, he’s learning new skills and deepening relationships between the Aperitive Guilds.”

  “That’s not true,” Sable said, her voice low and deadly. “So either you’re a fool or a liar, and I won’t tolerate either. Get out of my office.”

  “Don’t you mean my office?”

  “I received more votes than you,” Sable said. “Per the Guild’s bylaws, if Callidus is incapacitated, I serve as interim guildmaster. So I repeat: Get. Out. Of. My. Office.”

  Beckett walked to the desk and picked up a piece of paper trimmed in gold. “So busy playing your little game, Sable, you forgot there’s always a trump card. This document says it’s my office. And when Callidus is found guilty of treason and executed, the Guild will be mine.”

  What? Wren’s eyes widened. How was that possible? She looked to Sable, but the woman was intent on Beckett.

  Sable strode over and yanked the paper out of Beckett’s hand, reading it. When she spoke, her voice held a flicker of uncertainty. “This is an executive order from the king. Appointing you interim Guildmaster.”

  “Indeed.” Beckett crossed his arms over his sizable stomach, leaning back against the desk in triumph.

  Sable glared at him and tore the paper in two.

  “It’s just a copy,” Beckett said. “It’s done.”

  Sable exchanged a look with Wren. For the first time, Wren saw doubt in her sponsor’s eyes. What were they going to do now? Without Sable as guildmaster, they couldn’t get the cure and they couldn’t get Hale.

  Sable pushed around the desk and dropped into the chair. “I don’t care. I won’t let you have the Guild.” What was she doing?

  Beckett turned to her, resting his hands on the desk, leaning over it with a leer. “You already did.”

  Sable crossed her arms and glared at him.

  “Now, Sable,” he said. “Don’t be a sore loser. Need I summon the guards to escort you off the premises at swordpoint?”

  “I think you might,” she said, not backing down one inch.

  Beckett let out frustrated hiss. “Fine!” He pushed off the table and walked to the door, yanking it open. “Guards!” he called.

  Wren tried to catch Sable’s eye, but she was fumbling under the desk, frantically searching for something. There. She had it. Sable slipped something into the cleavage of her dress an instant before Beckett turned around.

  “Last chance,” he said.

  Sable rose gracefully as a queen, gliding to the door. “Perhaps I’ve changed my mind. We will go. You’ve won this battle, Beckett.” She paused as she passed Beckett, leaning closer to the man. “But you won’t win the war.”

  Wren and Sable shouldered past the two guards who were standing outside the door, confused expressions painted on their faces.

  “Is that what I hope it is?” Wren whispered.

  Sable retrieved a vial from between her breasts, handing it to Wren. “Go fetch your prince. We’ll need all the help we can get if we are to pull this one out of the fire.”

  Wren clutched the vial to her chest. “Thank you, thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Sable muttered.

  They had just reached the landing on the second floor when Wren was bowled into by a hurricane of blonde curls. “Wren!” Olivia squealed, squeezing her so tight, she felt her spine pop. “Sable. What’s going on around here? I’m hearing the craziest things.”

  “It’s a long story,” Wren said weakly.

  “Not that long,” Sable snapped. “Beckett has betrayed us. Callidus is arrested. Hale is being held here against his will.”

  “How awful!” Olivia’s hand flew to her mouth, her blue eyes wide. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Wren and Sable exchanged a look. “Actually…”

  Wren’s nerves were as taut as a wire as she hurried towards the palace. After sketching out a rough plan with Olivia, she and Sable had parted ways—Sable to head to her solicitor’s office to see if there was any way around Beckett’s executive order, and Wren to find Lucas. They had agreed to meet at the Spicer’s Guildhall at 6 P.M. that night. Pike was the next ally they needed on their side.

  She had stopped at Lucas’s apartment and then the Inspector’s office but had had no luck finding him. An annoyed inspector buried behind a mountain of paperwork had suggested she try the palace. Because the man was a prince.

  Wren paused on the corner before the palace gates, fishing the vial out of her skirt pocket. She looked at the clear liquid, savoring the moment. Finally, she would be free of the cursed binding wine. Her tongue, her words, would be her own again.

  She pulled off the stopper and threw back the contents. The cure tasted faintly of anise and cinnamon, and it tingled on her lips, growing hotter. She fanned her mouth as tears came to her eyes, blowing out air. For once, she wished a Vintner’s Guild magic potion didn’t make her want to vomit. But the burn began to dim, Wren’s rapid pulse slowing back to normal. She shoved the bottle back in her pocket and strode through the palace gates, an incredulous smile slipping onto her face. Free. She was free!

  Wren talked her way past a skeptical guard, following an annoyed servant through the winding stone hallways. Apparently, “Prince Imbris had retired to his chamber,” whatever that meant.

  She knocked on the ornately carved door as the servant stood to one side, no doubt ready to escort her out if Lucas decided not to see her.

  The door swung open, and Wren’s heart fluttered. Lucas stood in an untucked blue shirt and gray trousers, a book in his hand. “Wren,” he said, clearing his throat. “What are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in?” she asked, nodding slightly towards the servant who waited to escort her out.

  “Of course.” He stepped aside for her to enter.

  Lucas’s rooms were unspeakably lavish, decorated with massive pieces of gilt furniture covered in brocade fabrics. Floor-to-ceiling windows were framed by floor-to-ceiling drapes in a thick blue velvet. One of those drapes could probably crush a person.

  She looked everywhere but at Lucas. The distance between them, the way he stood back from her, his arms crossed before his chest…the pain of it pounded in her chest.

  “I didn’t know you had rooms here,” she said with forced lightness.

  “You never asked.”

  “I see little of you here.” It looked more like a guest suite than a room a person actually lived in.

  “I only stay here a few times a year. I’ve told Mother to turn it into something else, but she insists I always have somewhere to come home to.”

  “That’s kind of sweet,” Wren said, toying with the tassels on a throw pillow. “Why are you here now?”

  “I wanted someplace I could think. Undisturbed.”

  Wren flinched. His meaning was clear. “Lucas…” she began, turning to him. There was pain and weariness in his face that she wanted to kiss away. Gods, she hadn’t known this would be so hard. What if he didn’t forgive her? Even with the truth? Cold fear seized her.

  “Why are you here, Wren? I heard about Callidus, and I’m sorry, but—”

  She interrupted him. “You were angry because I hadn’t told you the whole truth. You were right. So I’m here to tell it to you, if you still care to listen. “

  He nodded, warily.

  “Why don’t we sit down?” she suggested. “And I’ll start at the beginn
ing.”

  And so she did. She told him about how Kasper had first revealed the secret of the Gifting to her before he’d died, how he had sealed the secret inside her with the binding wine. How she had wanted to tell Lucas a hundred times but couldn’t. How the king was demanding infused products from them for the war effort, how he wanted the Guilds under his thumb.

  “So all this time, all of this jockeying between my father and the Guilds, it was over…magic food?” Lucas’s tone was incredulous, and she didn’t blame him.

  “It’s hard to believe until you try some. I’ll get you a chocolate tomorrow.”

  “But…why now? Why could you tell me now?” He sat forwards in his chair, his head cradled in his hands.

  “There is an antidote to the wine. Callidus refused to let me take it, but when he was arrested, Sable stole it for me. We hoped…you might help us.”

  Wren wanted to reach out and touch him so badly, wanted to run her fingers down the stubble of his jaw, pull him to her and press kisses along the curve of his ear and the line of his neck. But she didn’t know how to bridge this chasm between them.

  Lucas reached a hand out and grabbed hers, squeezing so tight, her fingers mashed together. Her breath caught in her throat. Did this mean…he forgave her?

  He pulled her to her feet and walked her towards him, wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his face in her stomach. “Wren, Wren, Wren.” His words were muffled by the fabric of her dress, but she wrapped her arms around his head, pulling him more tightly to her.

  “I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you,” she said. “Please forgive me.” If he didn’t forgive her, if she couldn’t put together this one broken piece of her foundation, she didn’t know what she’d do.

  He looked up, his gray eyes smoldering. “There is nothing to forgive. You had no choice. And besides, it’s only been two days and I’m a wreck without you.”

  “Really?” She smiled at him and he surged to his feet, crushing her to him with a kiss. She was warm butter in the sun, melting against his hard body. His heat grew stronger, his mouth more insistent, and she felt the blaze within her rising in answer. This kiss wasn’t enough. She wanted nothing between them. No secrets, no distance. She broke off the kiss with a rasping breath. “Lucas,” she managed.

  “Mmm?” His gaze was fixed on her mouth, his eyes hooded.

  “I want all of you,” she said, the words sounding shockingly forward in her own ears. But she didn’t care. Her world was crumbling around her, but this made sense. She and Lucas. If all else went to hell, she would have this. At least once.

  Lucas wasted no time in response to her request, grasping her rear in firm hands and lifting her up against him. The sudden move sent a trill of excitement through her, its energy nestling deep in her core. “I’ve wanted all of you from the moment I saw you,” he growled, and Wren locked her mouth on his as he stumbled forwards, falling onto the massive bed with her beneath him.

  Lucas’s kisses trailed down past her ear, her neck, along the line of her collarbone, while his hand worked its way up, over her knee, her thigh, to grasp her hipbone.

  Her body thrummed in response to his touch, pulsing with heat and desire. She unbuttoned his shirt and ripped it off his shoulders, letting out a laugh as the arm got caught on his elbow. She wanted to see, to feel the smooth expanse of his chest, the muscles of his back. She leaned up to meet his kiss, her hands roaming now, her lips scraping against the stubble at his jaw, the hollow of his neck.

  He undid the row of buttons down the front of her blouse, kisses following as each button was dispatched. His calloused hands roamed over her breasts, gathering their small forms in strong fingers. She let out a little moan and reached for the button of his pants. He reared back on his knees, grabbing her hand, stilling it at his waistband. “Wait.” His breathing was hoarse. “Are you sure…this is what you want? I want you…to be sure.” A lock of his hair had fallen down over his forehead, and Wren reached up to brush it back. “I want you,” she said. “I want us. I’m sure.”

  A broad grin split his face, and he pounced back upon her, rolling her across the expanse of the bed. And she knew that she had chosen right.

  Wren was late to meet Sable. “You’d think we were late to meet the Sower himself,” Lucas joked as she pulled him down the wide avenue.

  “I’d rather be late to meet Him, honestly,” Wren said. “Sable has not been in a good mood.”

  “I suppose a hostile Guild coup would do that,” Lucas said. Wren had filled Lucas in on everything that had happened in that day—while naked. In his bed. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of everything that had passed between them.

  “What are you grinning about?” Lucas asked, jogging beside her to keep up with her long strides.

  “I’m not grinning,” Wren said with a grin.

  “Uh-huh. The inspector’s not buying that one.”

  “I’m just glad you’re with us,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze.

  “Wren, I’ve always been with you,” he said softly. “I just needed to know what I was with you for.”

  She nodded, gratitude welling in her. Whatever came next, Wren didn’t think she could do this without him. “There she is!” Wren pointed. Sable stood before the Spicer’s Guildhall, tendrils of her long, black hair whipping about her head in the breeze.

  “You’re late,” Sable snapped.

  “Sorry,” Wren offered. “I brought Lucas.”

  “Imbris.” Sable nodded at him.

  “Grandmaster.” He tipped his cap at her.

  “Any luck with the solicitor?” Wren asked.

  Sable shook her head once. “You sure you’re up for this?” she asked Lucas. “Going against your father? With a war on? King and country and all that?”

  “I swore when I joined the inspectors that I would defend the inhabitants of our city against injustice. Well, trying four guildmasters on trumped up charges is an injustice. Kidnapping innocent civilians, including my brother, is an injustice. It has nothing to do with helping us defeat the Apricans. So as I see it, it’s my patriotic duty to help.”

  “Music to my ears,” Sable said. “Let’s go.”

  Sable burst through the carved wooden doors of the Spicer’s Guild like she owned the place, hollering for Pike.

  Lucas looked around the Guildhall with interest, craning his head up to look at the ornate colored lanterns that hung from the tall ceiling. Wren remembered her first trip to this Guildhall, a frantic panicked run with Hale a berserk version of himself, desperately racing against the clock to find a cure for what had poisoned Sable.

  Pike’s second-in-command, Rizio, appeared from a hallway, a look of annoyance on his bearded face. “He’s not here, Sable. Do you think he’d be stupid enough to return to the Guildhall with an arrest warrant out?”

  “I thought he might be cocky enough,” Sable retorted.

  Rizio guffawed. “I’ll give him the message that you’re looking for him.”

  “Not good enough. We need to see him. We have a rescue to plan.”

  “We’re not really the rescuing type.”

  “I can be fairly persuasive,” Sable said, setting her hands on her curving hips.

  Rizio stroked his dark beard for a moment. “I’m sure you can. And that one?” He nodded towards Lucas. “I’m not bringing some inspector into places he might not care to see.”

  “I’m not an inspector tonight,” Lucas said. “Or an Imbris. I’m a friend of the Guilds and an angry citizen.”

  “He’s with us.” Sable said. “He can be trusted.”

  Rizio shrugged. “We have room for those. Let me grab my cloak and I will take you to him.”

  Much to Wren’s surprise, Pike’s man led them to a building she had been to before. “The Unicorn Mercantile?” Lucas asked. “What is this place? A store for magical creatures?”

  “It’s a dance club,” Wren said. “Pike owns this place?”

  Rizio nodded, unlocking the front door and ge
sturing for them to enter before him. “He owns a variety of investments around the city.”

  “This is where Thom was kidnapped,” Wren said under her breath to Lucas.

  “We’re best known for our cocktails, not our kidnappings,” Rizio said as he led them down a set of stairs that descended into darkness.

  “I should hope so,” Lucas whispered back, taking Wren’s hand.

  They pushed through a thick, black wooden door into a brightly-lit space filled with mismatched couches and cushions, a table and chairs. The ceiling was low and there were no windows, but the bright Centese furnishings distracted from what would have otherwise been an oppressive feeling.

  “This is the break room for the staff and musicians,” he said. “Pike’s office is back there. I’ll get him.”

  Sable stood as still as a statute, staring at a woven tapestry of a colorful mandala. Wren tucked herself under Lucas’s arm, leaning into his side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed, kissing the top of her head. “We’ll get this all sorted out,” he said.

  She swallowed the doubts that wanted to leap out and cry for attention. What if they didn’t, what if they never got Thom back, what if Callidus and Hale were executed and the Apricans breached the wall and down and down into a spiral of what ifs. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the rosemary fresh scent of Lucas. Things had looked bad before. She had been arrested, tried, almost executed. They had pulled things out of the fire then. They could do so now.

  “Sable.” Pike’s voice was warm as he came into the room, his arms outstretched. He kissed both her cheeks before pulling her into a tight embrace. “You are a star come down from the sky to dine with us mortals.”

  “Nice to know the afternoon’s events didn’t dim your quicksilver tongue.”

  “You know my tongue has many talents,” Pike said, winking as he pulled away.

  Wren wrinkled her nose, and Sable rolled her eyes. “Can we set aside the innuendo for a few minutes? We’re here to talk business.”