The Sweetest Spell (36 page)

“Emmeline.” I reached for her, then let my arms fall to my sides. She was married. I shouldn’t touch her. But I wanted to whisk her off her feet and carry her from that courtyard. Take her home and pretend none of this had ever happened. Put her back into my bed and never leave her side.

“Owen,” she said, her voice as warm as the courtyard’s air. Though her hair had changed—black and hanging in thin braids—her eyes were the same deep green and they pulled me in. Were those tears at the corners? She grabbed my hands. “I thought you were dead.” Her fingers trembled. I pressed my hands around hers, as tight as I could. “I thought Peddler had killed you.”

“He missed my lung. I was lucky.”

She smiled. “I’m so happy you’re alive.”

“I’m pretty happy about that too.” I glanced at the dress, which clung to her body like cream. “Your wedding dress,” I said, letting go of her hands. Unable to hide my disappointment, I winced. “You got married.”

“No,” she said. “No, no, no, no, no. There was no wedding.”

“But everyone said—”

“We didn’t get married,” she insisted. “We’re not getting married. I don’t love him. And besides, he’s promised to someone else.”

My heartbeat doubled. One man down, one more to go. “What about Griffin? He said you were going to bid on him at the husband market. Is that true?”

“I don’t love Griffin, either.”

Emmeline and I both looked across the cobblestones where Griffin was sitting on a bench next to one of the fighters. He stared into a mirror as he shaved his face—his ridiculously handsome face.

I stuck my hands in my pockets. “Let me get this straight. You’re not going to marry the prince of Anglund, who will one day be king, and you’re not going to marry Griffin, the most popular guy in the Flatlands?”

Her eyes turned fiery. “What’s so difficult to understand?” she snapped. “I don’t love them.”

We stared into each other’s eyes. Why didn’t I say anything? What was the matter with me? My feelings were practically seeping out of me but I couldn’t put them into words. “I’m sorry,” we both said.

“Why are
you
sorry?” I asked.

“Because it’s my fault Peddler stabbed you. Your parents were so nice to me and you got hurt because of me. Because of the chocolate.”

“Wait a minute.” I frowned. “You have no reason to apologize. I should have saved you. I’m the one who blew it. If I’d saved you—”

“If you’d saved me I never would have learned the truth about
the magic.” She stepped closer. “I never would have learned the truth about my people.”

I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. All I could focus on was how close her face was. I wanted to take her chin in my hand. I wanted to kiss her. God, how I wanted to kiss her!

She reached out and touched the number two, still painted on my chest. Now was the time to tell her how I felt. Except that one-eyed Henry stood over by that tent, watching with a stupid grin on his face. And Griffin was watching us too, as were some of the fighters.

“Come on,” I said. “There’s no privacy here.” I took her hand and led her through the golden gates and out onto the wide city boulevard. I knew not to walk too fast so she wouldn’t have trouble keeping up. Unfortunately, the street was crowded, offering little privacy. The people of Londwin City were mingling with merchants and tax-collectors, with girls from the Flatlands and people with powdered faces. But this crowd wasn’t acting like the one I’d seen outside the city wall. No one cried out in protest, no one waved weapons or shook fists. Smiles and laughter filled the air. Each Flatlander girl had a bucket at her feet and was handing out something to the delight of the crowd. “Are all those buckets filled with chocolate?” I asked. “You’ve been working hard.”

“I didn’t make any of it,” Emmeline told me. “They made it. I shared the magic with each of them.”

“Hi, Emmeline,” one of the girls called. Emmeline waved back.

“You
shared
the magic?” Had I heard her correctly? “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I didn’t know either until I got here. The magic is a gift, Owen. It was a gift to my people. All of my people. It doesn’t belong just to me.” Sadness suddenly filled her eyes. “Are you disappointed?”

“Why would I be disappointed?”

“Because now that lots of girls can make chocolate, I won’t be the richest girl in the kingdom. I won’t be famous or important anymore.”

“What are you talking about? Do you think I only care about the chocolate?” I couldn’t bear one more second standing next to her. I pulled her close, pressing my chest against hers, and kissed her.

Owen Oak kissed me.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me so close I could feel his heart pounding. Or was it my heart? I’m not sure but someone’s heart was going to burst. But then I could only think about his lips, which were soft and pressed against mine. I’d never been kissed before. Warmth flowed over my entire body, the way it does when I make chocolate—only this was better. At that moment I didn’t ask why. I didn’t care why. It felt so good. We might have kissed forever if two merchants hadn’t bumped into us on their way to get more chocolate.

“Emmeline,” Owen said, his voice heavy as if he’d just woken from a nap. “I want to tell you something. I want to tell you how I feel.”

“Wait,” I said. Was this really happening? He’d kissed me and now he was looking at me with an expression both pained and happy. I knew that expression. I wore it every time I thought about how much I loved him.

“Wait,” I repeated. “Before you say anything else, I need to do something.” This was the moment I’d long dreaded—the moment when all of me had to be revealed. I walked to the edge of the boulevard and sat on a low wall that encircled a swan fountain. I pulled up the hem of my once pure-white dress, now stained with dungeon grime thanks to Griffin’s and Owen’s hugs. I began to unlace my right wedding shoe.

“What are you doing?” Owen asked.

“I need to show you.”

He sat next to me. “Emmeline, you don’t have to do this. I know all about your foot.”

“I’ve spent my whole life hiding it. I want to show you.” I took a long breath. Then, carefully, I pulled my foot from the shoe’s velvet padding that had held it in place. Owen took the shoe and set it on the ground. My heart pounded as I unrolled the white knee-length stocking. I knew he’d seen my curled foot before, but this time it was my choice. As I pulled the stocking free, I watched from the corner of my eye for his reaction.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t grimace, didn’t smile. He sighed, as if bored. “Is that all you got?” he asked. Then he pointed to a long wrinkled scar on his arm. “See that? That’s where I leaned up against an ironsmith’s furnace.” He turned his back to me. “See that?” Another scar ran across his lower back. “I fell off my horse and landed on a rock.” He turned back around. “See that? That’s where Peddler stabbed me and it’s going to leave another scar.” A wound lay just below his ribs. “As you can see, I’m a mess.”

Then he set his hand gently on my foot. Tears pooled in the
corners of my eyes. “If you think your foot is going to scare me away, Emmeline Thistle, you don’t know me at all.” He kissed me again.

I pulled away because he was smiling. “What’s so funny?”

“I hear you’ve been calling out my name in your sleep.”

“What?” I almost denied it, but then remembered that he and Griffin had been stuck in the dungeon together. Even so, I didn’t want to deny my feelings—not anymore. “I missed you,” I said.

“I missed you too.”

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and we sat there as if it were perfectly normal for a Flatlander girl and a boy from Wander to be in love. It felt better than perfectly normal. It felt extraordinary!

Water trickled in the fountain behind us. The Flatlander girls were still handing out chocolate. People made room as a couple of wagons drove up the boulevard. The rest of the Flatlanders who had gathered outside the city wall now sat in the wagons’ beds, my father among them. “Prince Beau is going to let us stay until the road’s been repaired,” he called out to me.

“That’s good news,” I called back. The wagon headed through the golden gates.

“Thank you for rescuing my father,” I said to Owen.

“It was the least I could do,” he said.

That’s when I noticed Griffin. Freshly shaven and looking more like his old self, he leaned against the gate, talking to a woman I immediately recognized. The Baroness of Salt wore the same checkered cloak she’d worn when Griffin had pulled her from her carriage. Her blond hair, as golden as the gate itself, hung to
her waist. She didn’t seem angry at Griffin for stealing her carriage and horses. Quite the opposite, for she was smiling at him and laughing as he told her some story, probably about how he’d delivered the famous Milkmaid to the palace. A cluster of royal milkmaids stood nearby, watching him with awe. He was back where he belonged—the center of female attention.

“Look,” Owen said. The royal cows walked through the golden gates and out into the boulevard, their golden neck ribbons sparkling. Kitchen boys ran after them, trying to turn them around, but the cows paid the boys no mind. They headed straight for me, calling to me with loud moos. Soon they were gathered around the fountain, drinking and flicking their tails. I pressed my palm against their muzzles as they greeted me. How wonderful, I realized for the first time, that the color of a cow’s eyes is like melted chocolate.

“Come back to Wander with me,” Owen said. “Stay with me.”

“You don’t care that I’m not the only one who can make chocolate?”

“Care? I think it’s brilliant. Now I don’t have to worry about you getting kidnapped again. You and your father can start a new life in Wander. We can be together.” He whispered in my ear. “Your father said that the husband market is only once a year. Do I have to wait that long?”

“It’s our tradition. And I think it’s important that we Kell keep our traditions.” I pushed a curly lock from his eyes. His brown eyes. Funny how I’d always found comfort in brown eyes, whether they belonged to a four-footed creature or a two-footed one.

“Must you keep all traditions? Even the one where Flatlanders only marry Flatlanders?”

“Well, maybe not
all
traditions.” I smiled. “What makes you think I’d bid on you anyway?”

“Because you love me.” He kissed my cheek. “And because I love you.”

I laughed. “Guess I’ll have to start saving my coin.”

How is it possible that this is my fourth teen novel? Time has certainly flown since I wrote
Saving Juliet
. I had no idea when I started writing for teens that it would be such a fun journey. From the time-traveling adventures of an actress and pop star to a coffeehouse girl’s encounter with an angel to a romance writer’s daughter and her conversations with Cupid, and now this—a love story that centers around chocolate. Love
and
chocolate. What could be better than that?

I want to express my deepest gratitude to you, my readers, because you invite my stories into your busy lives, and for that I am honored. I can only hope that I live up to your expectations by whisking you away from this crazy world for a few hours and plunging you into a new world that is exciting, funny, and most important, entertaining. You amaze me every day with your love letters and enthusiasm.

Huge thanks to my first-draft readers and brainstormers for this book: Isabelle Ranson, Bob Ranson, Elsa Watson, Michael Bourret (who also doubles as my intrepid literary agent), and Emily Easton (who also doubles as my wise and patient editor). And thanks, once again, to Hot Shots Java in Poulsbo, Washington, for providing me with coffee, chocolate, and a great workplace.

Please visit me at
www.suzanneselfors.com
and keep sending those letters!

Also by Suzanne Selfors

Saving Juliet
Coffeehouse Angel
Mad Love

Copyright © 2012 by Suzanne Selfors

First published in the United States of America in August 2012 by Walker Publishing Company, Inc., a division of Bloomsbury Publishing, Inc.
Electronic edition published in August 2012
www.bloomsburyteens.com

All rights reserved. You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise
make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means
(including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying,
printing, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the
publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication
may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Walker BFYR, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Selfors, Suzanne.

The sweetest spell / by Suzanne Selfors. p.   cm.

Summary: Scorned in her Flatlands village because of a deformed foot, Emmeline Thistle’s life changes when she is taken in by Wanderlands’ dairy farmers and discovers her magical ability to make chocolate, which is more precious and rare than gold or jewels in the kingdom of Anglund.

[1. Fantasy. 2. People with disabilities—Fiction. 3. Prejudices—Fiction. 4. Chocolate—Fiction. 5. Magic—Fiction.] I. Title. PZ7.S456922Swe 2012 [Fic]—dc23 2011034591

ISBN: 978-0-8027-3408-2 (e-book)