Page 8 of Sugar Plum Fae

"I'll...consider it," Roderick finally muttered, unable to meet Ben's eyes. "But make no mistake, this doesn't mean I trust her."

Ben nodded understandingly. "That's all I ask for now. Just give her a chance. For the town's sake."

As they walked out of the mansion into the night, Sykes trailed behind with an exasperated sigh. Roderick clenched his fists, fighting against the overwhelming urge to storm off. "Mark my words. This is not going to end well."

"You know what they say. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer." He patted Roderick on the back before strolling off into the town hall.

Roderick scowled at Ben's departing figure. Stalking through the streets of Whitlock, Roderick’s mind raced with theaccusations and rebuttals he planned to say to Candace when he saw her again. Each one was more scathing than the last. He'd show that meddling sunsidhe who was really in control here. She'd rue the day she ever crossed paths with him.

But deep down, hidden under his swirling fury, was a sliver of doubt. What if Ben was right? What if there was something amiss in town that they hadn’t noticed? He shook off the thought, unwilling to entertain the possibility that he might be wrong.

When he couldn't track her down in town, he went into the forest looking for her. The moonlight guided him to her. She was standing beside her ornate carriage, a melancholic expression etched on her face. The sight of her like this was jarring, as if a storm cloud had swallowed the sun.

"Leaving so soon?" Roderick asked.

Candace turned to him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I can't stay here," she said, her voice trembling. "The people of Whitlock are suffering, and it's more than just the balance of dreams and nightmares."

"Of course," he scoffed, crossing his arms. "It couldn't possibly be your scheming to seize control of the town."

"Is that really all you see in me? A power-hungry usurper?" She glared at him, her sadness replaced by indignation.

Roderick's mind raced, searching for any hint of deceit, but found none. It infuriated him that he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, she was telling the truth. But he pushed the thought aside. "You expect me to believe that you're suddenly concerned about the welfare of the townspeople? That's not what we are. We are fae. We love the power they give us. You through their dreams and me through their nightmares."

"Believe what you want," she snapped, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "But unlike you, I'm not focused solely on my own power."

"Right," he drawled. "Because the fae are known for their altruism."

"Sometimes the truth is difficult to accept," she retorted. "Especially when it challenges your narrow-minded beliefs."

"Fine," Roderick conceded, but only to keep the conversation going. He needed to know if there was even a shred of truth to her claims. "Let's say I believe you. What do you propose we do about it?"

"Perhaps if you stopped treating me like an enemy, we might find a solution together," she suggested, her voice softening.

"Unlikely," he muttered, unwilling to entertain the idea of working alongside her. "The people of Whitlock are just fine without your meddling."

"Fine?" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "You're so blinded by your own pride that you can't even see the suffering around you."

"Or maybe I just refuse to be manipulated by someone who craves power," he countered, his jaw set in defiance.

"You're a stubborn fool!" Candace cried out, her anger finally boiling over. Her eyes flashed with a fierce intensity that made Roderick's heart stutter—whether from caution or something else, he couldn't say.

"Maybe I am," he admitted begrudgingly, his voice low. "But until you prove otherwise, I'll continue to believe that your intentions are anything but noble."

"Then I guess there's nothing more to discuss," she said, her voice cold as she turned away from him and stepped into her carriage.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Roderick was left alone in the forest, the weight of their conversation settling heavily on his chest. The doubt still gnawed at him, whispering that maybe he had misjudged her all along. But admitting that would meanfacing his own fears and insecurities—a battle he wasn't quite ready to fight.

Roderick stared at the carriage door, his mind racing with Candace's accusations and the weight of their heated argument. He couldn't deny that her words had struck a chord deep within him—but that didn't mean he was willing to admit she was right.

"Wait," he called out, the word escaping his lips before he could stop it. The carriage paused, and Candace peered out, her expression guarded.

"Changed your mind?" she asked, her voice wary.

"Perhaps," Roderick replied, considering his options. A plan began to form in his mind, one that would satisfy both his pride and her concerns. "How committed are you in helping the people of Whitlock?"

She hopped out of the carriage and patted the unicorn’s flank so it trotted away to graze. "I'm all in."

"Are you?" He smiled. He had her now. "I wonder."