Even if he had, it would be quite the feat to fight against the magic that should have been directing him towards his heart’s desire the moment he’d taken a bite of the tart.
“Itriedleaving,” he repeated, his tone almost apologetic. “But I ended up back here.”
The words made no more sense the second time. “Are you lost again?” Ordinarily I might have believed it—Gabe’s sense of direction had already proven questionable. Yet the tracking tart should have easily circumvented such inconveniences.
He shook his head. “I tried every path I could think of—the northern trail, the southern one, even the marked route I followed to reach the bakery. No matter which direction I chose, I somehow found myself back here.”
I frowned, more from habit than genuine concern. That was strange. Had something gone wrong with the tart? Perhaps allowing him to participate had somehow altered the magic, leading him to the bakery because he’d been involved with the tart’s creation?
But that wasn’t rational; for all the distractions Gabe had offered, I’d followed the recipe exactly. The ingredients had been correct, and the magic had taken its price. Almost unconsciously, I pressed a hand against my chest, feeling the familiar hollow absence left behind whenever a spell claimed an emotion, even if I couldn’t recall which one I’d just given up.
“I don't understand,” I murmured. “The magic should have led you towards whatever you were searching for.”
Gabe shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t mean to imply you’d made a mistake. Perhaps…I truly did get turned around.”
Before I could respond, something strange brushed against my awareness: confusion, mingled with frustration. The emotions appeared suddenly and vividly, sharp enough to startle me. I blinked. Neither feeling seemed to belong to me; I no longer possessed enough emotions for either to emerge so strongly.
I glanced at Gabe. His brow was furrowed, irritation lingering around the corners of his mouth. “Are you…frustrated?” I asked.
His eyebrows rose, the question seeming to catch him entirely off guard. “Not at you,” he clarified quickly. “At myself, perhaps, as well as the situation.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought this would work. I could feel the magic.”
The strange feeling immediately deepened, as though I somehow understood his frustration. The realization unsettled me—I shouldn't have been able to recognize an emotion with such clarity, not anymore. I dismissed the thought as quickly as it arrived. Whatever was happening, there had to be a more reasonable explanation.
“Perhaps we should simply try again,” I said.
Gabe looked relieved. “That seems sensible.”
He turned and stepped back outside. I remained standing in the doorway as he crossed the clearing. The evening air hadgrown cool, and moonlight filtered through the surrounding trees, silvering the forest beyond.
At that exact moment I experienced something strange—not an emotion, but a sensation. A restless tugging, as though I’d forgotten something important and couldn't quite remember what it was. My gaze kept drifting towards the place where he had stood moments earlier.
He had nearly reached the enfolding shadows beneath the canopy when he abruptly stopped. For several long moments he remained completely still, seeming to wage an internal battle, before he slowly turned around, a puzzled expression filling his features. Instead of continuing into the woods, he began walking back towards the bakery. The peculiar sensation I’d felt earlier vanished the instant he stepped back onto the porch. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
Grandmother glanced up from her knitting as Gabe followed me inside, pausing in the doorway. “That was quick. It is a pleasure to see you back so soon, Gabe. Did you forget something?”
I disliked that tone, as well as the knowing look she cast in my direction that suggested she already possessed a theory for why he’d returned, one I was certain I wouldn’t appreciate.
Gabe sighed. “I didn’t mean to come back. It was as though an invisible barrier prevented me from going any farther. Not a wall exactly, but...almost like a rope pulling me back.”
Grandmother slowly pushed herself upright with the aid of her cane. I hurried forward. “You shouldn’t be standing,” I chided, moving to support her arm. She ignored me entirely, her entire attention fixed upon the two of us.
“This is the workings of magic,” she announced, her gaze darting towards the cabinet where the ancient cookbook lay.
Of course she would arrive at that conclusion first. Truthfully, I was beginning to suspect the same thing. I lookedfrom Gabe to the tart resting upon the table. My tracking tart had never malfunctioned in this way. If I didn't know better…but the thought died before I could finish it. The spell should have led Gabe towards whatever he desired most. There was nothing in this bakery worth that sort of reaction. At least, there shouldn't be.
I rubbed my temple. “There is only one explanation: I must have made a mistake.” The admission tasted strange. I could scarcely remember the last time one of my enchanted confections had malfunctioned. Yet every other possibility seemed far more absurd.
Gabe looked up. “A…mistake?” For the first time since we’d met, his tone was absent of his usual friendliness.
I reluctantly nodded. “The tracking tart went wrong somehow,” I continued. “We'll need to perform a few tests and determine exactly what happened.”
He tightened his jaw in clear annoyance, a feeling that seemed to extend towards me. Of all the recipes for me to have messed up, it had to be the confection for the customer I most wanted the least to do with for the sake of my peace. It was my first mishap since my earliest baking experiments. If I didn’t know any better…I cast a suspicious look in Grandmother’s direction. But if she’d meddled with the recipe, her innocent expression betrayed nothing.
Gabe suddenly shivered, momentarily distracting me. The rain had mostly passed, but his cloak remained damp from the journey and the evening air carried a distinct chill. I hesitated a moment before motioning him inside. “Come, we can discuss the matter near the hearth.”
Still looking apologetic for reasons I couldn't quite understand, Gabe followed me back into the bakery. The familiar warmth enveloped us as soon as the door closed behind him. The scent of raspberries lingered in the air from the tart,mingling with herbs, bread, and the fading traces of the stew we’d eaten.
I directed Gabe towards the chair nearest the fire before retrieving the recipe book from the cupboard. If the spell had malfunctioned, the answer would be found somewhere within its pages…at least, I hoped it would.
