Page 24 of Sustaining
Unless you knew her one secret.
“Shh, Arlow.” More ingredients are sifted into the pretty bowl.
“You once told me there were three of you. One was murdered, one faked a boring, normal life—which was you—what happened to the other?”
“Can you pass me the butter?” The unfazed way she looks up at me makes me remember why it was so damn easy for me to run away from this place.
To run away from her.
Her avoidance of everything that has to do with my magic all my life is like telling your mother you’ve just discovered the cure for all the terrible diseases in the world while finding a solution for world peace in the middle of sending out the exact amount of food needed to end the fight on world hunger.
And instead of congratulating you, she asks you to pass the butter.
Stinging pain bites into my nails as I sink my fingertips into the wooden countertop, my knuckles turning white, hands shaking just slightly.
“Just tell me what happened to her.” I stare at her, unblinking, and a shadow of emotions passes across her bright gaze.
A shaking exhale slips across her lips.
“She refused to give up her magic or her life.” Her attention lifts, and she looks out the big store window at the white crashing waves across the street. “The last I knew, she’s living on Isolde Island just off the coast.”
My gaze narrows on the lost look in her eyes as I recall the eerie myths about the mysterious island not far from here. Boys used to dare each other to sail out to the island a couple times a year when I was younger.
One died.
Only one.
“That’s less than ten miles from here by boat.”
My mother nods, stirring intently, avoiding my gaze and slowly distancing herself from the conversation.
The mage was her friend, and now I find out the woman has lived ten miles from my mother all their lives, and she never tried to visit her.
She cut ties with the mage entirely. Out of fear of the changing laws.
“Why—” My question is nearly out when it’s cut off by a tense voice.
“Bella, is that order ready this morning?” Bells chime above the door, and in walks Molly.
Perfect.
The woman’s brow pulls low the moment she spots me behind the bright teal counter of my mother’s bakery. To my surprise, a sweet dragon shifter slinks in just behind her before the door can click closed. Chaos barely looks my way as he keeps his attention held on the woman in front of him. It’s like he knows all the ins and outs of my life, and I have no idea how he does that.
“Of course, let me just box it up, Mols.” The pleasant customer-service smile is the same one my mother has shoved across her face for two decades. And the downturn frown of that customer is the same as it always is. Bellamix’s Bakery is a coveted little shop. They love it and loathe it. Delicious treats thatmust be made of magicthey always whisper.
Really, I think they just want something to gossip about.
“Arrie, can you ring her up? It’s just nine parchels,” my mother’s voice hollers from the side room where she’s roaming around.
Paper and shuffling noises come from that room, but I don’t look toward the sound of her voice.
I consider making a run for it and slipping out the back door before my mother returns. But I’m an adult. And we don’t run from our problems…okay, we do, but not this time.
I glare at Molly. She glares right back.
The slowness that I manage to drag out of me by simply wiping my hands on a clean rag and walking the few steps to the counter is enough to make her eyes narrow into small puffy slits.
“It’s just nine parchels,” I parrot, like the good little worker I am.
