Page 18 of The Baker and the Wolf

“If you must know, he’s a prisoner.”

That word stops me cold. Was my first impression of him as a dangerous man correct after all? “Do you mean he’s committed a crime?”

“Far more than one. The man is a nefarious criminal. But you needn’t worry: he won’t dare harm you.”

This makes no sense at all. A fist seems to grab my heart and squeeze. “What did he do?”

“Nothing was off-limits to that monster. He sold his magical services to criminals: coercion, murder, blackmail, and a long list of other offenses I don’t care to mention. It took five of us to catch and then restrain the creature until a trial before the full council could be arranged. And after he was found guilty on all counts—mind you, he didn’t even try to plead innocent, just threatened to kill us all—every council member contributed to his sentencing. He serves his life sentence by working for the council and its various agents. Gauthier took him along to South Ordonusia last year to untangle a nest of hags and incubi, and this year he works for me. He may put on a charming front, but never trust him, Cerise. He is a beast. Steeped in evil deeds. A barbarian in the ancient sense of the word.”

Why do I have this horrible sinking in my gut? I can’t process this information all at once, but one point is clear. I give her a look. “You sent an evil barbarian to make first contact with me, your granddaughter?”

She blinks rapidly. “When you put it that way, it does sound dreadful.”

“Rather.” Anger nearly nauseates me. Or is this more than anger?

“Dear girl, we keep him under such deep magical restrictions that he can’t harm you or anyone else without killing himself. The slightest insubordination causes him pain that would make a mountain troll stop and reconsider!”

A pang of pity reveals how pathetic I really am. “Can you trust him to deal honestly with you?”

My grandmére frowns. “Yes, but only because he has no choice. He may appear polite and respectful, but we know better than to imagine he will ever reform—his will to dominate is too strong.”

“Good to know.” I hope she can’t read my mind. I don’t want to read it myself. I must focus on magic. Focus on my grandmére. Never let her guess that after one glance from his gorgeous eyes, one smile, I melted into a puddle of goo. “You needn’t worry about me,” I add, thankful that Rina isn’t currently inside my head.

I’m furious with myself. But my heart feels like it might be bleeding inside where no one can see.

“What magic can he do? I mean, could he tell if someone tries to steal my magic?”

My grandmére pauses, blinks. “Yes, he probably could.” She gives me a doubtful look. “But never trust him to be forthcoming with the truth.”

Nodding, I resolve again to view him as my enemy.

But . . . he has been genuinely kind to me, asking nothing in return.

“I really must send you back now,” Rina sighs. “In a piece of fairyland like my little pocket world, time cannot be trusted to match the human world’s pace. Frustrating—I have so much more to teach you! Do you feel confident about this first lesson? Blocking the theft of your magic, I mean.”

I shake my head slightly. “I wouldn’t claim confidence exactly, but I’m ready to try.”

My grandmére’s expression is difficult to read. “I don’t wish to make you paranoid, child, but keep your guard up even among your nearest and dearest. The thief could be a servant, an employee, a customer . . . even a family member.”

My heart sinks. “I hate the idea of living in suspicion of everyone I know.”

“I understand.” Rina’s voice cracks, and she shakes her head. “Come here, child.” She opens her arms, and I walk into them, appreciating the warm embrace. Now that I’ve met my grandmére, I wonder how much happier my life might have been with her in it. Just being near her makes me feel stronger.

A few minutes later, she fastens my cloak beneath my chin as if I were a child.

“You needn’t worry,” she assures me. “The forest path leads directly to the door into your city, and Barbaro will keep an eye on you until you’re safely home.” A line appears between her arched brows. “He tells me he cannot enter your stepfather’s property, so you’re on your own once you pass its gates, which is unfortunate.”

“I will be wary,” I promise, reaching for the doorlatch.

I step outside into the winter chill, grateful for my cloak, boots, and gloves. The lighting looks exactly like it did when I arrived that morning—sharp and silvery. Time does seem to be a variable here. The forest path is clear despite steadily falling snow.

Suddenly eager to return to my own world, I hurry onward, boots crunching with each step. Will Barbaro be waiting for me at the smithy?

Then I glimpse the wolf amid the trees to my left. My blood instantly chills in my veins, and my body tenses for a wild dash. But my brain retains sense enough to hold me to a slightly quicker walk even as the beast approaches in a series of leaps through the deep snow, its outline becoming clearer through the shimmering snowfall.

“How did you get here?” I blurt.

It leaps directly into my path, shakes snow from its dark coat, opens its mouth in a huge yawn, and turns to trot ahead of me. Leading the way.

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