My words die on my tongue as she tears into my loaf of sweet bread without ceremony, breaking it apart with careless hands. She lifts a piece beneath her veil, placing it in her mouth.
There’s silence, followed by a cough before she spits it out.
“You should have bought one.”
“Uhm…” What else is there to say? I stare in shock at her as she makes herself at right at home and partakes in my food.
“It’s supposed to be a cake, not a brick,” she continues.
I didn’t ask for critique of my pastry, did I? Yet she continues to give it unprompted.
“Birthdays are for celebration, not for insulting your taste buds.”
My lips flatten in a tight line. What a rude lady!
“I will give you a gift. In exchange for the map.”
Before I can agree or say anything at all, she conjures up a small box and sends it flying toward me. I catch it with both hands. It’s made of a heavy wood, with golden decorations on the side.
“Go on. Open it,” she urges me.
I take off the lid, surprised to see four round pink cakes inside.
“This is?—”
“Actualcakes. You must celebrate your birthday properly. Try one.”
“Uh…”
I blink and she’s in front of me.
“It’s my present to you. You won’t reject it, will you?” She asks, her voice now soft and sweet.
“Uhm… All right,” I mutter.
Grabbing one of the cakes, I take a small bite. It is indeedverysweet. Compared to my sad attempt of a pastry this is magnificent. Before I can help myself, I’m stuffing the entire thing in my mouth.
“You like it?”
“It’s so good. I’ve never had a cake this good before.”
“I’m glad. It took meyearsto perfect the recipe.”
“Years?” I mumble with my mouth full.
“Indeed. It’s created to suit particular taste buds. I am glad it is to your liking.”
“To my liking? This is absolutely delicious. Thank you.” Once more I can’t stop myself from talking with my mouth full as I shove another cake in my mouth. This is a sensorial experience in itself! For someone who’s been living on bland scraps for hundreds of years, this might just be the peak of my existence.
The more I eat, however, the more my vision starts swimming.
My head spins. At first, it’s faint, barely noticeable beneath the overwhelming sweetness of the cakes. But then it grows, a slow, creeping dizziness that coils around my senses until the room itself gains legs and starts moving.
What—
I sway, blinking hard, trying to steady myself.
“Are you all right?” she asks, her voice soft again, almost gentle.
