A Spell Too Sweet [ONC2025]

Chapter Eleven: A Hint of Heartache

And things had been going her way. The shop was successful, her rival was finally out of her hair, and her best friend was back in town. Laura had seen the light in Eleanor's window the night before, and she made a note to visit her in the evening, even if that meant taking her work home with her.

But then, as often happens with friends, Eleanor must have had the same idea. Around noon, when the flow of customers finally slowed to a trickle, the bell announced her entrance with the happiest jingle it could muster.

Laura's welcoming smile froze on her face as her friend approached her at the till. She braced for effusions of love, or attempts at hugs, but none of that happened. Instead, Eleanor waited peacefully, pretending to study the many colors of sugraplums until all the other clients had left the premises.

"Well now," she finally said when they were alone, "it sure is good to see you face-to-face."

"It is," Laura said, a slight stutter sneaking into her words. "B-but how?"

Eleanor shrugged, not needing the full question to understand her meaning. "I drank that antidote you left for me as soon as I got home, and figured I would need to test it out, so here I am. Good thing it worked, right?"

It took a moment to understand what she was talking about. Then Laura did, and something in her began to crumble. "It shouldn't have worked, though," her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. "It had no effect on Ambrose. I had to try four recipes until I got one to work."

Her friend blinked at her, considering what she'd just said. "Did you never stop to think that maybe, just maybe, his feelings had been there all along? If the spell is off and he's still in love with you, it's pretty clear that was the case. I just can't believe that you fed him four different antidotes and failed every time, yet you're still refusing to acknowledge that."

"The fourth one worked!" Laura's voice rose, then diminished as she remembered the title of the draught in question. "Well, it wasn't an antidote per se, but it did its job. I haven't seen a trace of him for a day and a half."

"I have. I stopped by Waycasters' before coming here to place an order, and let me tell you, that boy of yours is not looking well."

Laura wanted to protest at the use of that yours, but her friend trudged on, unyielding.

"He looked haggard, like I've never seen him before. His smile is gone, his hair is a mess, and there are the deepest shadows under his eyes. I thought he was just lovesick, but now I'm starting to doubt that. Just what did you give him?"

"A draught for hate. That's what the grimoire said."

Eleanor's mouth fell open. "Isn't that illegal?"

"About as much as anything that alters one's feeling in a major way, yes. But I figured, since I was going to get in trouble for the love spell, anyway... I just couldn't let him tag after me like that, swaying my own feelings. This is better for both of us."

"It sure isn't for him!" The young mage took a deep breath, and her voice steadied once more. "You're telling me that he was being nice to you, and the moment you realized you might like him in return, you decided to curse him."

Laura bristled. "It's not a curse! And I don't like him, I just needed him out of my shop. Now I can concentrate on my work, and he on his, and after the contest, I'll see if there is anything left to untangle. Does that work for you, Mage Chantswift?"

"Miss Quillspell." The voice was cold and calculated. "You have toyed with magic you're not authorized to use, and you're lucky the Magisterium hasn't picked up on it yet. Oh, don't give me that look. We're friends, so I won't tell on you; but I also can't sit idly by while that boy is suffering."

"He's not suffering!" Laura protested.

"Look for yourself and say that again."

So she did. There was no longer a queue outside, but the bakery still had clients waiting to pick up orders. Ambrose was serving at the till, as he should have at that hour, and the midday sun was shining its light at the perfect angle to catch one half of his face. As if feeling her staring at him, he turned his face in the direction of the confectionery shop, and for the briefest of moments, their eyes met. Laura felt a spark lighting in her heart, a longing she was trying to keep buried.

On the other side of the street, Ambrose brought both hands to his chest. At first, she thought he was feeling the same as she did, and expected the crooked smile to appear once again. But it didn't. His face broke into a grimace of pain, and he curled into himself, crumpling behind the counter and falling out of sight.

"What was that?" she finally managed to ask.

"I don't know," Eleanor said, back to her usual soft voice, "but I can look into it. There have to be some books that can help. Or we could ask your uncle."

Laura shook her head. "Leave Uncle out of this. I'll figure it out by myself, after the Harvest Feast."

There were less than four days left, and she could not afford to use any more time on Ambrose.