The Confectioner's Guild (The Confectioner Chronicles, #1)

by Claire Luana

She looked at him in gratitude and was met by a glare. Did his brow ever cramp from all the scrunching?

Lucas shot her an apologetic look, which wasn’t strictly necessary. He could call her a loaf of burnt bread if it kept her away from the Grand Inquisitor.

“Five points for not saying a wren, but minus three for sticking in the small bird category. Lacking in creativity.”

Hale unwound his arm from Wren’s slender shoulders and shook Lucas’s hand, pumping it several times. Wren could see the whitening of the men’s knuckles as the handshake lasted longer than was strictly necessary.

men *shakes head*

humanity’s capacity for cruelty was only surpassed by the ease of its betrayal.

“Isn’t that what being governed is? Giving power and trusting that it will be used for the good of the people?”

“I love it,” she said. “I am in love.” “That’s enough to make a fellow jealous of the cheese,” he said, pouring wine into a slender flute. “I would marry this cheese,” she said, slathering another cracker.

We love a good cheese

She pulled the crumpled letter out of the bodice of her dress. Lucas raised an eyebrow and a grin flickered across his face. “Lucky letter.” Wren shook her head in exasperation. “Why does everyone say that?” “Who else is saying… Never mind that.

“Hale,” Wren said with feigned surprise. “That was downright civilized.”

So she kissed him.

so. cute.

It’s because you were the fiercest and loveliest thing I had ever seen, sitting on that couch without a trace of fear, and I couldn’t imagine a world where I didn’t get to know you.”

You deserve a place in this world. A place where you can be safe, and whole, and happy. Never apologize for insisting on it. For fighting for it.”

“No. Because your life matters to me. I’ve found it a very precious thing that I’m not interested in going without.”

“Poison’s a funny thing,” he said. “Like a woman. Every formula is different. They demand to be known, to be understood. Each has telltale signs. A smell, a taste. A color and viscosity.”

“Here,” he murmured, “there is no guilt or innocence. There are only the king’s allies. Or enemies.”