Page 110 of Sent To A Fantasy World and Now All the Men Want Me 7

“Have you come to mock me and my so-called powers?” I asked the chubby red and gold fish in the pond. It had swum up to the surface and blew a bubble at me. “That’s fair, I guess. Blow all the bubbles you want, just don’t bite me.”

The pond had become my thinking spot. And after the disappointment of my failed attempt at lifting Onyx’s curse earlier that night, I had a lot to sit and ponder. So, I had snuck out once my men fell asleep and come to find guidance among the fish.

“It’s just not fair,” I told Sir Chub. He was still staring at me. “I know you’re a fish, but surely you can understand my frustration. Onyx told me that within a week of Saint Vera’s powers awakening, she was already using them to take down units in the demon army. Like how? I can’t even make a twig levitate and it’s been almost that long. All I can do is sprinkle feel-good vibes into coffee or whatever.”

I heaved a sigh and plopped to my side, curling an arm beneath my head as I stared at the water. The fish wagged its tail and moved closer to the bank.

“You know? You’re kind of cute. Sorry I used to think you were all muffin-eating monsters.”

Bloop. Another bubble.

A soft sneezing sound came from the grass behind me before Oreo padded forward, the wooden charm on his collar front and center. He nuzzled my hair before approaching the pond and staring at the fish, his fluffy ears lifting. One ear flopped forward, though, as usual. The cutest sight ever.

“Be nice to Sir Chub,” I told the puppy. “He’s a great listener.”

Woof. Oreo wagged his tail as he looked at the fish.

Bloop.

I smiled at them. Oreo plopped over and pawed at the water. The chubby fish approached and lightly butted against the pad of his foot.

Something moved from the corner of my eye.

I turned toward the castle. The golden glows of lamps showed in some of the windows, along with shadows of people moving through them, signs that not everyone had fallen asleep yet. One person in particular.

Onyx’s room overlooked the pond. And it was exactly where the movement had come from. Though a good distance up, I caught sight of him on the balcony, staring down at me. Longing filled my chest. Probably the closest we could get from now on. Watching each other from afar. Wishing things were different.

Because my powers are useless.

Setting the throne room on fire? Sure thing.

Baking muffins? Happy tummies all around.

But I couldn’t do the one thing I was desperate to do: save the demon I loved from a life of isolation.

Annoyed by my own inadequacies and in dire need of a pick-me-up, I peeled myself up from the grass, said good night to Sir Chub, and took Oreo back into the castle. Destination? The kitchen. I wanted to drown my sorrows in chocolate cake. Or any cake really.

Just not honey cake.

I glanced at the glass dish holding what was left over from dinner. A single piece. Looking at dessert had never made me so sad before.

“You betrayed me, cake.” I sneered at the slice. “Seems Briar was wrong. I don’t have magical baking hands or whatever. If I did, Onyx would have…”

My throat squeezed, and I shook my head, not letting myself finish the thought. It hurt too much. Knowing I’d have no chance of sleeping if I drank coffee this late, I made a cup of hot cocoa instead and sipped on it as I whipped up a batch of brownies.

“All that sugar before bed isn’t good for you.”

Every muscle in my body froze, as if shot with an ice laser. Slowly, I glanced over my shoulder.

Onyx stood against the wall, his arms loosely crossed. The top half of his hair was pinned back, and the rest fell down his chest, the silky strands brushing over his red silk robe.

“There’s no such thing as too much sugar,” I finally said, though my voice shook, unsteady just like my pulse. “Before bed or otherwise. Pretty sure I’ve developed a tolerance over the years. I can eat an entire platter of frosted sugar cookies and go right to sleep.”

“Asleep in bed with your mates is where you should be at this moment, little bird, instead of fluttering around baking treats.”

“Well, you know me and my late-night snacks,” I responded, holding the mug of cocoa between my palms. The warmth was comforting. But a poor substitute for the heat I wanted to feel—the addictive burn of a certain demon lord.

“That I do.” The edge of his mouth hitched higher.