Page 12 of A Phoenix Reborn at Christmas

The man’s twin had a grey pallor to his skin. And he sagged forward as he mixed something. But what Percival noticed most of all was the haze that hung around him.

“Your twin isn’t well.” Percival tilted his head. “Something is wrong with him.”

Percival’s instincts told him the man wasn’t ill precisely. There was something unnatural harming him. But he couldn’t tell what. He doubted he could heal the man with his powers.

Percival didn’t think whatever was wrong with the man was contagious…but just to be safe. He glanced at the baker, who wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“Which of you makes the pies?” If this man’s twin made the pies, would Percival stop eating them? His stomach sank at the idea.

“I make the pies,” the baker said, voice tense. He still didn’t meet Percival’s eyes. Percival let out a relieved breath.

A muscle ticked in the baker’s jaw as he slid the pies across the counter. Had Percival upset the baker with his question? He rolled his eyes. He was a paying customer. He had a right to know that he wouldn’t get sick from eating the food served here.

But it surprised him that the baker in front of him made the pies. “So you’re terrible at serving but a passable baker?”

The muscle in the baker’s jaw ticked again.

“What’s your name?”

The baker didn’t answer immediately, as if not wanting Percival to know. But Percival just waited, not taking the pies.Although, he tensed his fingers, wanting to snap them up and gobble them down. They smelled delicious.

“It’s Leo, Your Lordship.” His hard brown eyes finally met Percival’s.

“Leo?” Percival scoffed. “What sort of name is Leo? That can’t be your full name! Did your parents seriously name you Leo?”

“My full name is Leopold, my lord,” he said, tone clipped. “That will be eighty bells.”

Percival paid and took the pies. But he paused. “What pie are you making tomorrow?”

“I decide what I feel like making on the day, Your Lordship.”

“I see.” Then Percival strode from the bakery.

When he arrived in his office, he set the pies on his desk. He glanced to the window. There was no sign of the raven. She hadn’t returned since the day Percival healed him.

Is she still alive?

Percival looked away. Not that he cared about some bird. Why should he? The creature meant nothing to him. And Percival was not some soft-hearted phoenix. Not in this life at least.

He sat and took out the first pie, staring down at the golden pastry. His lips tingled with anticipation. His mouth watered.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The yell echoed down the corridor.

Percival’s shoulders tensed. He closed his eyes and let out a breath.

“Your incompetence has fucked us over!”

With great reluctance, Percival placed the pie down. He got to his feet, grabbed his ledger, and walked out his office and to his cousin’s.

“If you can’t do your fucking job, what is the point of keeping you around?” Cyprian, his cousin, shouted, voice ringing off thewalls. “How could that much glass be ruined?” The scent of smoke thickened in the air.

And in front of Cyprian, Nix, the imp foreman, stood, shoulders hunched, horned head lowered, red wings tucked against his back.

Percival’s lips twitched. His cousin was a bully. He loved nothing more than shouting the workers into submission.

“I’m…so…so sorry, my lord,” Nix stuttered.

“You’re so, so, so sorry?” Cyprian mocked. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t cast you into the streets!”