I glared at Derrick as the cake inched its way closer to him. He coughed, banging a fist against his breastbone, and held up a hand.
“You know what? I think I’ll have the pie. Looks delicious.”
“Smart boy,” Edward said, sinking his fork into the mincemeat. He lifted a mushy bite to his lips and chewed. The entire table watched, holding their breaths as if he might keel over, face-first into the plate.
At least it would make for a soft landing.
He swallowed slowly and chased the pie with a deep sip from his wineglass. Then another.
“Flavorful!”
His approval set the table in motion, and everyone dug into their desserts. Edward wiped his mouth with a napkin and whispered, “Is it supposed to taste like leather, my dear?”
I cringed and stared at my own gelatinous slice. “Well—”
Andrew chose that moment to wake from his wine-induced stupor and scooped a forkful of pie off my plate. He cocked a grin, which only withered a bit after he started to chew.
He murmured, “My sister’s a show-off and a liar. She had the cake delivered to the back door by special delivery. Paid the cook not to say anything. You’d be a fool to believe anything you see when it comes to my family.”
I couldn’t help it: anger spiked in my veins. It wasn’t enough she had Derrick’s mother hanging off her every word; she had to belittle my wretched—yet heartfelt—baked gift with a three-tiered lie too. I watched her hold a forkful of cake up to Derrick’s mouth. He shook his head, but she insisted, batting her lashes and pushing it closer until he was all but forced to taste it.
Magic tickled my palms as I vowed to get even. Humiliation warred with the echo of Cynthia’s voice in my mind, forbidding the use of magic inside the house. Yet when Isabelle’s slender fingers dusted a smudge of powdered sugar from Derrick’s lips, I reached my limit.
So much for rule number one.
A servant poured coffee into Isabelle’s cup, and she reached for the sugar bowl, using the tongs to select three lumps of sugar. Someone had a sweet tooth. I kept my features neutral and focused my magic, whispering the incantation as each sugary square dropped into her coffee.
Her spoon clinked against the porcelain as she stirred, then she lifted the cup to take a sip.
Coffee spewed across the table in a caffeinated rain. The droplets stained the white tablecloth and landed in the leftover cake. She coughed and sputtered more dark liquid.
“Isabelle, control yourself!” Lila hissed, dabbing her napkin at the discolored tablecloth.
“Salt,” she choked, thrusting the cup at her mother.
I drummed my fingers on the table, reversing the spell as Lila sampled the doctored coffee.
“It’s sugar, young lady, not salt. What is wrong with you? Clean yourself up this instant. You’re embarrassing the family.”
Isabelle fled the table, nearly knocking over her chair. She caught my eye, and the venom there made me shiver. She knew what I’d done but couldn’t prove it.
Derrick refused to meet my gaze, but I spotted the mirth in his eyes. He tilted his wineglass in a salute.
Edward wasn’t nearly as subtle. His face had turned red, cheeks bulging with laughter. “Well done, my dear,” he managed between gulps of air.
Cynthia cleared her throat and stood. “I think it’s best if we all gather in the parlor for a glass of sherry before turning in for the night.”
Everyone agreed, but I rose from my chair, still feeling the high from my little prank, and declined. The last thing I wanted was to spend another hour making small talk, especially if Isabelle rejoined us after the salt incident. She’d probably challenge me to some elaborate piano recital, and I’d already threatened everyone’s taste buds; I didn’t need to assault their ears as well.
I excused myself from the table, wishing everyone good night, and slipped from the room.
Derrick caught up with me near the stairs and captured my hand, pulling me down a darkened hallway.
“What are you doing? Someone will see us sneaking off.” I laughed as he looped an arm around my waist and led me deeper into the house.
“That was some spell,” he chuckled, pausing beneath a wall sconce. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.” The light flickered over his face as he leaned a shoulder against the wall and pulled me closer.
I poked him in the chest. “That was some cake.” I sighed with remorse. “To be honest, if I wasn’t in direct competition with a rival for your affection, I would have liked to try a piece. That frosting looked like it was buttercream. I love buttercream.”
