Beneath the Sugar Sky (Wayward Children, #3)

“We need Christopher’s flute,” she whined. “He’s dying. Look.” She pointed at Christopher, who was performing his part in their little play with distressing ease. All he had to do was lie there and look terrible. He was doing both, and they hadn’t even needed to ask.

The guard at the door frowned dourly and took a step into the room, past the threshold. Cora moved fast, slamming into his side and bearing him away from the doorway. Kade, who had been hidden by the angle of the door itself while it was open, stepped forward and slammed his chunk of edible masonry as hard as he could into the back of the guard’s head. The man made a gagging noise and fell down.

Rini, who had been slumped against the wall, was suddenly there, back on her feet to deliver a solid kick to the fallen guard’s throat. He made another gagging noise but didn’t raise his hands to protect himself.

“You should go,” she said, eyes on the man’s still form. “I can watch him while you go.”

“By ‘watch him,’ do you mean—”

Rini raised her head, candy corn irises seeming even brighter and more impossible than they had back at the school. “He doesn’t want to be here,” she said. “The world is reordering itself so the Queen of Cakes was always, and my family was never. But there isn’t supposed to be a Queen of Cakes, which means he’s supposed to be someplace other than here. I’m going to tie him up, and then I’m going to find out whether he knows where he’s supposed to have been this whole time. But you should take his armor first.”

Kade nodded uncertainly and began stripping the man’s armor away. It was gilded foil over hard chocolate: it should have melted from the heat of the guard’s skin, if nothing else, but it was still fresh and sound. Cora wrinkled her nose. Some things seemed like a misuse of magic, and this was one of them.

Christopher hadn’t moved throughout the commotion. She turned and knelt next to him, checking his throat for a pulse. It was there. He wasn’t gone yet. He might be going, but he wasn’t gone.

“We’re going to get your flute,” she said softly. “It’s going to be okay. You’ll see. Just hang on. This would be a stupid way to die.”

Christopher didn’t say anything.

When she stood, Kade was dressed in the guard’s gilded-foil armor, and was studying the guard’s sword.

“It’s weighted differently than I’m used to,” he said. “I think it’s toffee under the chocolate. But it’s got an edge on it. I can make this work.”

“Good,” said Cora. “Let’s go save the day.”





9

DANCING WITH THE QUEEN OF CAKES

KADE MARCHED CORA into the throne room, one hand clenching her shoulder so hard that it verged on painful, the stolen sword sheathed at his hip. The Queen of Cakes, sitting on her throne with her chin propped on her hand, sat up a little straighter, seeming torn between irritation at the intrusion and relief that she had something to be annoyed about.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “I didn’t call for any of the prisoners to attend on me.”

Sumi was tethered to the base of the throne, a braided licorice rope around her skeletal throat, and the sight of her was enough to put steel in Cora’s spine. They couldn’t afford to get this wrong. If they did, then this would become the reality in Confection: a woman who thought that torturing the dead was appropriate and just.

“I asked to come,” said Cora quickly, before Kade could have been expected to speak. “I wanted … I wanted to talk to you.” She thought of Rini standing naked in the turtle pond, proudly telling Nadya that her vagina was a nice one, and felt the hot red flush rise in her cheeks. Being easily embarrassed could be a weapon, if she was willing to use it that way. “I thought maybe you could … I thought we might have something in common.”

The Queen of Cakes raked her eyes up one side of Cora and down the other. Cora, who had endured many such inspections over the years, forced herself to stand perfectly still, not flinching away. She knew what the queen was seeing. Double chin and bulging waistline and thighs that pressed against the fabric of her jeans, wearing them out a little more every day. She knew what the queen wasn’t seeing just as well. She wasn’t seeing the athlete or the scholar or the friend or the hero of the Trenches. All she was seeing was fatty fatty fat fat, because that was all they ever saw when they looked at her that way. That was all that they were looking for.

The Queen of Cakes sighed, her face softening. “Oh, you poor child,” she said. “How cruel this place must seem to you. The temptation of it all—unless that’s what drew you to Confection? Are you looking to eat yourself to death on the hills and leave your body where no one will ever find it?”

“No,” said Cora. “I wasn’t drawn to Confection. I came to help Rini get her mother back. I didn’t understand what Sumi had done to this place. We were wrong.”