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grinned. “But I know I’ll love her anyway.”
    “You’re
so easy,” she snickered.
    He gave her a slow, sideways smile melting her with the
promise of things to come. “Anytime you want to find out just how easy, let me
know,” he said huskily.
    Saylym swallowed. The sudden awareness of his body close
to hers left her breathless. She cleared her throat. “Let’s go,” she said
feeling the flush of heat staining her cheeks.
    He pushed open the door to the pastry shop. Saylym thought
she heard him say, “All I have to do now is get my Futhar’s approval.”
    She shook her head. Now she knew she was losing it. Futhar? Why would he need an owl’s approval to like her? She’d probably misunderstood.
He must have said father. Yes, that was probably it. The son of a king would
need his father’s approval, but to do what?
    Saylym stifled a moan. Bloody hell! She didn’t have a clue
as to what conclusions her mind was leaping to. Her thoughts jumped to and fro
like a crippled spider racing to its web.
    Yup.
She’d inherited a wide streak of insanity but for now, it was going to remain
her little secret.
    The
pungent aroma of assorted spices filled the Sugar-N-Spice pastry shop. It was
enough to make one weep. Saylym strolled up and down the aisles savoring the
rich scent of vanilla and chocolate permeating the air. The heady fragrances
mingled with the aromatic smell of cinnamon. Yummy. Her mouth watered.
    She held the special candle for the cake in her hand,
searching for just the right treat for Eldora. Finally, Saylym stopped in front
of a shelf burdened with a range of different sized and individually wrapped
cakes.
    “Here
it is. Perfect.”
    She snatched a vanilla frosted cake with black cats and
bats edging the border of the frosting. “This is perfect since she believes
she’s a witch.”
    Talon
blinked at her as if she’d lost her mind.
    She
ignored him and lifted one edge of the covering to push the single candle
through the sticky frosting.
    “How old is your old lady?” he asked.
    “She tells me twenty thousand,” she deadpanned. “I say
she’s not a day over fifteen, give or take a few thousand years.”
    “Ah,
one candle makes perfect sense.”
    “Yeah.” Saylym snickered. “I wouldn’t want her exhausting
herself trying to blow out all those flames.” She handed her selection to the
young woman patiently waiting behind the register. “Hi. I’m Saylym Winslow from
the shop next door.”
    The
young clerk smiled and pushed back a heavy mass of thick, dark hair. “Hannah
Miller. I’m filling in for my partner today. Kirrah’s my best friend.” Her
smile wavered. “You sort of resemble her. There’s something about your bone
structure and lips, only Kirrah has red hair and green eyes.”
    “Oh?
Maybe I’ll stop by sometime when she’s here and say hello.”
    “She’d
like that. She and I moved here about three months ago. She’ll be sorry she
missed you. She hasn’t had time to make new friends.” Hannah rang up the sell.
“Six dollars, please.”
    Saylym handed the clerk the money. She bit her tongue to
keep from asking if a little old man in a taxi provided them with rings to
Sanctuary. Nope, she wasn’t going there. She wasn’t about to spread the news
she was crazy. She’d ask something that made more sense. “Did you and your
friend drive here?”
    “Yes,
we did,” Hannah replied. “A lovely drive.”
    Saylym
shivered. Well, that proved it! She was nuts. She must have imagined the
old cab driver, the ring, the whole bit. She’d chosen Sanctuary and here she
was. No matter how she got here, it was home.
    For a long moment, she chewed on her bottom lip. “And
where did you say your friend is now?”
    “Kirrah?
Oh, she’s having trouble with her take-offs and landings.”
    Saylym
felt her smile fade. “Oh?”
    “I think she’s somewhere teaching her besom the proper
technique of flying.”
    “Besom?”
    “Witch’s
broom,” Talon supplied, giving her one