He hesitated. “I’m not sure. I just felt an uncomfortable pulling sensation, like a thread stretched too tightly.”
My brow furrowed. As he spoke, I could feel the same sensation too…along with a strange reluctance to leave him behind. The feeling lessened when I stepped closer and lifted my candle to search the shadows of the tiny room, but I detected no signs of lingering magic.
“Forgive me,” Gabe said hastily. “I’m sure it’s my imagination. I appreciate your hospitality. The room is more than comfortable.”
I took that as my cue to leave him for the night, but my hesitation in departing remained. I found myself glancing around in an unconscious search for an excuse to linger.
“Do you need anything else?” I asked. He shook his head. “Then I bid you goodnight. Tomorrow morning I’ll create a new spell for you.” One that hopefully would break this inconvenient connection.
I turned and left him still standing in the doorway, yet with every step down the hall the strange sensation strengthened, as though an invisible cord stretched between us, growing tauter the farther I moved away. The urge to turn around and return tohim intensified until it became difficult to think about anything else.
My only explanation for the peculiar anomaly was that Grandmother had somehow cast a spell as part of her matchmaking schemes, though I’d never heard of one like this. Could it be the effects of my failed tracking tart?
Normally I brushed aside unsolved puzzles as easily as I dismissed emotions, but this mystery haunted me into bed and refused to let me rest.
The storm continued throughout the night. Rain pattered steadily against the windowpane, a familiar lullaby that usually soothed me to sleep. Tonight it offered little comfort. Restlessness entangled me more tightly than my covers, growing stronger the longer I remained alone. I shifted beneath the blankets, turned over, adjusted my pillow, then repeated the process several times.
The feeling only worsened. With how rarely I experienced emotion, it took me long into the night to identify the one currently tormenting me. At first I assumed it was frustration over my failed spell, then I blamed curiosity, before settling upon simple sleeplessness. Yet none of those explanations felt quite right.
Anxiety—if that was indeed this torturous feeling—pressed against my ribs, the sensation seeming wholly disproportionate to the situation. I had weathered magical mishaps before. Why should this one trouble me so deeply? Eventually exhaustion dragged me into a restless sleep marred by troubling dreams of searching for something unknown.
A low creak of floorboards pierced the stillness of the night, tearing the thin fabric of my sleep. I sat upright. For a moment I remained still, listening. The bakery had its own language after dark: settling beams, distant rain, the occasional rustle of Nutmeg exploring where she ought not to be. Yet somethingabout this sound felt different. Without fully understanding why, I slipped from bed and softly opened my door.
I looked up and down the hallway. Gabe sat outside my bedroom, propped awkwardly against the wall with a pillow beneath his head and a blanket tucked around his shoulders. He almost looked as though he were keeping watch, if not for the fact he appeared to be sleeping soundly despite the uncomfortable position.
For a moment I simply watched him. Moonlight filtered through the narrow window at the end of the hall, illuminating his sleeping form in shimmering silver. One arm rested loosely atop the blanket while his head leaned awkwardly against the wall. He couldn't possibly be comfortable, yet he hadn't complained, woken Grandmother, or knocked on my door. He’d simply endured it.
Something unpleasant tightened within my chest: guilt—not because Gabe was uncomfortable, but because he was uncomfortable on my behalf. Because my failed spell had stranded him here, and he now was forced to sleep on the floor rather than risk causing me inconvenience.
The realization came with surprising clarity. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt guilty about anything. The unfamiliar emotion sat strangely upon my heart, uncomfortable and heavy. Yet while it was not a pleasant sensation, it gave me the oddest sense of communion, as though feeling this burden could draw me closer to the person associated with the feeling.
Before I could examine it further, as though my presence acted as a silent alarm, Gabe suddenly stirred. His eyes blinked sleepily open. The moment he noticed me standing there, he nearly tripped over himself scrambling to his feet.
“Cecelia!” His voice was hoarse with sleep. “ I—forgive me, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just…couldn’t sleep.” His frantic explanation faltered in the midst of his growing mortification.
“So you resorted to sleeping in the hallway?” I asked.
His ears immediately reddened and he lowered his eyes. “I can explain.”
“Please do.”
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “When I entered the guest room, I felt…uncomfortable.”
My eyebrow lifted. “Uncomfortable?” The description seemed remarkably inadequate for the torment that had kept me tossing and turning for hours.
He gave a helpless shrug. “That's not quite the right word. The farther away I got from you, the worse it became.”
The admission hung awkwardly between us; to my annoyance, I understood exactly what he meant. “Like something was missing?” I offered hesitantly, both desiring and dreading to confirm what I’d felt.
His eyes widened. “Exactly.”
For a moment we simply stared at one another as the realization settled over us. We hadn't experienced similar sensations—we’d experienced the same one. A shiver rippled down my spine. Whatever connection the tart had created was proving far stronger than either of us had anticipated.
“I wrestled it for hours,” he admitted quietly. “I kept telling myself to ignore it. It didn’t fully disappear, but it became bearable once I reached your room. I assure you, I have no untoward purpose, and will remain out here in the hall.”
The more he described the sensation connecting us, the more I recognized it. That was exactly how the tracking spell was supposed to work. But what did it mean that it was trying to lead him tome?Whatever bond had formed between us was apparently far stronger than I initially believed.
“So your solution was to sleep on the floor?” I asked.
