Magic Binds
Page 74
We kept going and by the end of the hour my head hurt from spinning and my legs hurt from jumping. Ballet wasn’t for the untrained and it had been a long time since I’d had to do it. I was amazed I still remembered how. Voron had said it would help with strength and balance. I mostly hated it.
“I have to take a break,” I told Saiman.
“We’re only halfway done.”
As if on cue, someone knocked.
“See? Serendipity.”
“You mean coincidence.”
Ascanio opened the door and Roman walked in. He saw me onstage and blinked. “Ehh . . .”
“Don’t,” I warned him.
He raised his hands. “I do not judge.”
Curran tossed me my clothes. I slipped the shirt over my head, pulled on my jeans, and took off the stupid tutu.
A black woman with a head full of bright poppy-red curls followed Roman, pulling behind her a small metal cart full of plates. Roman picked up one of the plates and a spoon, carved a small piece of the cake on it, and held the spoon out to me.
“What is this?”
“Cake.”
“Why do I need cake right this second?”
“This is Mary Louise Garcia,” Roman said. “She is the head baker for Clan Heavy’s Honey Buns bakery.”
Mary smiled at me and waved her fingers.
“Mary very kindly agreed to bring over samples so you could select a wedding cake.”
“I did.” Mary nodded.
“Mary turns into a grizzly. A very large grizzly.”
“I know who Mary is,” I told him. “I met her before, at Andrea’s wedding.”
“If you don’t pick a wedding cake, Mary will sit on you and stuff all this cake into your mouth until you make a selection.”
“Mary and what army?”
Mary smiled at me. “I won’t need an army.”
“Can he select the cake?” I pointed at Curran. “This wedding involves two of us.”
“He already did,” Mary said. “These are the choices he narrowed down.”
I turned to Curran. “You narrowed it down to sixteen choices?”
“They were all very delicious,” he said.
“Were there any choices you didn’t like?”
“Yes,” he said. “I scrapped coconut and lime.”
“After you are done with the cake, we’ll discuss flower selection and colors,” Roman said.
I would strangle him. “Roman, I have to dance until Zoe can record the rest of the mystical writing on my skin, and then I have to train to work my magic. So no. Not doing it.”
Roman heaved a sigh and looked at Mary. “Do you see what I have to put up with?”
“Roman, if I don’t do this, Atlanta will be destroyed.”
“Atlanta is always getting destroyed,” Mary said. “Eat some cake. It will make you feel better.”
“Before I forget,” Roman said. “Sienna said to tell you to beware . . .” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Crocuta crocuta spelaea. Apparently it’s going to try to murder you. Don’t you want to eat some delicious cake before you die a horrible death?”
I sat on the stage and covered my face with my hands.
Curran’s hand rested on my shoulder. “Are you okay, baby?”
“No. Give me a minute.”
“That’s understandable,” Roman said. “Take your time.”
“What did you say it was that was going to murder me?”
“Crocuta crocuta spelaea.”
“Crocuta” usually referred to a hyena, but I couldn’t remember any hyena with “spelaea” attached to it.
“Cave hyena,” Ascanio said. “Also known as Ice Age spotted hyena.”
All of us looked at him.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m a member of Clan Bouda. I know our family tree.”
“How big?” Curran asked.
“Pretty big,” Ascanio said. “It mostly preyed on wild horses. They estimate about two hundred twenty-five pounds or so on average.”
Of course. Why wouldn’t my future have a vicious prehistoric hyena in it?
I exhaled and looked at Roman. “What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?”
“You have to make all the wedding decisions,” Roman said. “You have to select the cake, the colors for the ceremony, the flowers for your bouquet, and you have to stand for a second dress fitting tomorrow at eight o’clock. You also have to approve the guest list and the seating chart.”
I looked at Curran.
“I can take the chart,” he offered.
“Thank you.” I looked at Roman. “I do all this and you stop bugging me?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a deal.”
“Excellent.” He rubbed his hands, looking every inch an evil pagan priest. “I love it when everything comes together.”
• • •
THE RECORDING OF the writing on my body was done. The cake would have alternating tiers; the first would be chocolate cake with a white chocolate mousse filling and white chocolate buttercream, and the second would be white chocolate with raspberry mousse and white chocolate frosting. They told me I could have whatever I wanted, and if it was the last cake I would ever eat, I wanted it to be as chocolate as it could get.
The colors were green, pink, and lavender, because when I closed my eyes and thought of a happy place, I saw the Water Gardens with lotuses blooming in the water. I told Roman that I wanted wildflowers for my bouquet. He dutifully wrote it down.
“Thank you,” I told Saiman, as he packed away Dave Miller’s things.
“We’re even,” he said.
“We are.”
He nodded and left.
Roman left too, taking Mary Louise with him. I dismissed Ascanio for the day after we put the desks back where they belonged and then waited for him to be out of earshot.
“He’s gone,” Curran told me.
I laid the drawings out on the floor.
My aunt appeared before me and looked at the pages.
She frowned. “This is the high dialect. The language of kings. Why would he . . . Switch these two around for me.”
I moved the two sheets she pointed at.
My aunt peered at the drawings. We waited.
“Moron.” Erra rolled her head back and laughed. “Oh, that sentimental fool! This is what happens when a man is thinking with his dick.”
“I have to take a break,” I told Saiman.
“We’re only halfway done.”
As if on cue, someone knocked.
“See? Serendipity.”
“You mean coincidence.”
Ascanio opened the door and Roman walked in. He saw me onstage and blinked. “Ehh . . .”
“Don’t,” I warned him.
He raised his hands. “I do not judge.”
Curran tossed me my clothes. I slipped the shirt over my head, pulled on my jeans, and took off the stupid tutu.
A black woman with a head full of bright poppy-red curls followed Roman, pulling behind her a small metal cart full of plates. Roman picked up one of the plates and a spoon, carved a small piece of the cake on it, and held the spoon out to me.
“What is this?”
“Cake.”
“Why do I need cake right this second?”
“This is Mary Louise Garcia,” Roman said. “She is the head baker for Clan Heavy’s Honey Buns bakery.”
Mary smiled at me and waved her fingers.
“Mary very kindly agreed to bring over samples so you could select a wedding cake.”
“I did.” Mary nodded.
“Mary turns into a grizzly. A very large grizzly.”
“I know who Mary is,” I told him. “I met her before, at Andrea’s wedding.”
“If you don’t pick a wedding cake, Mary will sit on you and stuff all this cake into your mouth until you make a selection.”
“Mary and what army?”
Mary smiled at me. “I won’t need an army.”
“Can he select the cake?” I pointed at Curran. “This wedding involves two of us.”
“He already did,” Mary said. “These are the choices he narrowed down.”
I turned to Curran. “You narrowed it down to sixteen choices?”
“They were all very delicious,” he said.
“Were there any choices you didn’t like?”
“Yes,” he said. “I scrapped coconut and lime.”
“After you are done with the cake, we’ll discuss flower selection and colors,” Roman said.
I would strangle him. “Roman, I have to dance until Zoe can record the rest of the mystical writing on my skin, and then I have to train to work my magic. So no. Not doing it.”
Roman heaved a sigh and looked at Mary. “Do you see what I have to put up with?”
“Roman, if I don’t do this, Atlanta will be destroyed.”
“Atlanta is always getting destroyed,” Mary said. “Eat some cake. It will make you feel better.”
“Before I forget,” Roman said. “Sienna said to tell you to beware . . .” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Crocuta crocuta spelaea. Apparently it’s going to try to murder you. Don’t you want to eat some delicious cake before you die a horrible death?”
I sat on the stage and covered my face with my hands.
Curran’s hand rested on my shoulder. “Are you okay, baby?”
“No. Give me a minute.”
“That’s understandable,” Roman said. “Take your time.”
“What did you say it was that was going to murder me?”
“Crocuta crocuta spelaea.”
“Crocuta” usually referred to a hyena, but I couldn’t remember any hyena with “spelaea” attached to it.
“Cave hyena,” Ascanio said. “Also known as Ice Age spotted hyena.”
All of us looked at him.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m a member of Clan Bouda. I know our family tree.”
“How big?” Curran asked.
“Pretty big,” Ascanio said. “It mostly preyed on wild horses. They estimate about two hundred twenty-five pounds or so on average.”
Of course. Why wouldn’t my future have a vicious prehistoric hyena in it?
I exhaled and looked at Roman. “What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?”
“You have to make all the wedding decisions,” Roman said. “You have to select the cake, the colors for the ceremony, the flowers for your bouquet, and you have to stand for a second dress fitting tomorrow at eight o’clock. You also have to approve the guest list and the seating chart.”
I looked at Curran.
“I can take the chart,” he offered.
“Thank you.” I looked at Roman. “I do all this and you stop bugging me?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a deal.”
“Excellent.” He rubbed his hands, looking every inch an evil pagan priest. “I love it when everything comes together.”
• • •
THE RECORDING OF the writing on my body was done. The cake would have alternating tiers; the first would be chocolate cake with a white chocolate mousse filling and white chocolate buttercream, and the second would be white chocolate with raspberry mousse and white chocolate frosting. They told me I could have whatever I wanted, and if it was the last cake I would ever eat, I wanted it to be as chocolate as it could get.
The colors were green, pink, and lavender, because when I closed my eyes and thought of a happy place, I saw the Water Gardens with lotuses blooming in the water. I told Roman that I wanted wildflowers for my bouquet. He dutifully wrote it down.
“Thank you,” I told Saiman, as he packed away Dave Miller’s things.
“We’re even,” he said.
“We are.”
He nodded and left.
Roman left too, taking Mary Louise with him. I dismissed Ascanio for the day after we put the desks back where they belonged and then waited for him to be out of earshot.
“He’s gone,” Curran told me.
I laid the drawings out on the floor.
My aunt appeared before me and looked at the pages.
She frowned. “This is the high dialect. The language of kings. Why would he . . . Switch these two around for me.”
I moved the two sheets she pointed at.
My aunt peered at the drawings. We waited.
“Moron.” Erra rolled her head back and laughed. “Oh, that sentimental fool! This is what happens when a man is thinking with his dick.”
