Chapter Four

C andace

Candace lounged on her candy throne, the sweetness of its sugared surface a perfect complement to her daydreams. She allowed herself the guilty indulgence of reminiscing about that magical night she and Roderick had had last night while they were creating the wishing well. The memory of his smoldering gaze and the subtle taste of danger on his lips was enough to make her heart flutter. His kisses were dangerously addictive, like the finest chocolate laced with aged cognac. It was all she could do not to let out a wistful sigh.

"Isn't it a beautiful day?" Candace murmured as she ran her fingers through the cotton-candy clouds above her head, momentarily forgetting her responsibilities.

But as the first townsperson from Whitlock approached the well, a sudden pull summoned her back to reality. The dreamy haze evaporated, and she found herself standing next to Roderick near the well. His presence cast a cold shadow over her warmth, yet the intensity of his gaze still managed to send shivers down her spine. The moon hung heavily above them, casting an eerie pall over Whitlock, the town that had unwittingly become their chessboard.

"Guess we're on duty, then," Roderick drawled, arching an eyebrow at the approaching man, whose hopeful expression belied his ignorance at the divine beings observing him.

"Seems so," Candace replied, trying to maintain her composure despite the way her knees threatened to buckle under the weight of those midnight eyes.

"Any bets on what he'll wish for?"

"World peace?"

Roderick shook his head. "I'm going with riches beyond his wildest dreams. It's a classic."

The fate of Whitlock rested in the balance, and while her heart dared to beat faster at the thought of Roderick's steamy kisses, her duty to the sweet dreams of the town remained steadfast.

As the man cranked the handle on the well, pulling up the bucket that was filled to the brim with the magically infused water, Candace was able to skim his mind. The man's name was Ethan, and he was a farmer.

"Your move, Krampus," she said.

"Watch closely, sugar plum," Roderick shot back, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Ethan fumbled with the ladle, dipped it into the magical well water, and brought it up to his mouth to drink.

"Let the games begin," she said.

As the first drops of liquid passed his lips, Candace felt the well's magic surge. "Drink from me and achieve your heart's desire," it intoned, its voice a blend of their powers. The man's eyes gleamed with greed as he spoke his wish. "I wish for more wishes."

Roderick's smirk widened as a tally mark appeared at his feet. Ethan began rattling off five more wishes, but none materialized. Roderick shot Candace a questioning look, and she innocently shrugged.

"He didn't specify that we had to grant the wishes," she said, hiding her disgruntlement with a sassy smile.

"Ah, a touch of darkness from the Sugar Plum Fairy herself." Roderick squeezed her hand.

Candace wanted to lean into him and put her head on his shoulder. How was it that even the slightest touch from him could make her feel so undone? The air crackled with magic, the very earth beneath their feet humming with the potential of what they could unleash together. In this merging of opposites, Candace sensed not just the spark of competition, but the ember of something far more treacherous—the first pangs of love.

"I must admit, I admire your deviousness," he said.

"I suppose we should lay down the ground rules," she said. "Rule number one: No wishing for more wishes."

"I'll let Ben know," Roderick said.

With no more wishes to fulfill, they wisped back to their own realms, but Candace's revelation about her newfound feelings after a night of passion rocked her sugary world. She and Roderick were complete opposites and battling for a town's soul. This was not the time to fall in love. She pressed her hands to her cheeks, hoping that the cold, snowy town they had just been in would help cool her ardor.

No such luck.

News of the magical wishing well spread like wildfire through Whitlock, drawing even more townspeople to the secluded grove. Candace had barely gotten settled back in her daily routine when she was summoned to the well again. This time there was a line of townspeople.

"Now we'll see what lies in the hearts of Whitlock's townspeople," Roderick said.

Candace stood on one side of the well, her sunsidhe warmth shining like a beacon, while Roderick brooded on the other, his moonsidhe presence casting shadows over the gathered crowd.

She recognized the next supplicant from his dreams of winning at cards. Maxwell was a gambler known for his reckless bets. He stepped forward, eyeing the well with a calculating gaze. Candace sighed inwardly, knowing that granting his wish would give Roderick something else to gloat about. But they were bound by their pact, and she couldn't deny him his heart's desire.

"Please be careful what you ask for, Maxwell," she whispered under her breath, hoping that somehow her warning would reach him.

Maxwell took a sip from the ladle and stated his wish. "I wish for unbeatable gaming skills. No more losing for me."

"Wouldn't that be cheating?" Roderick asked, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "A point for me. Enjoy your victories, Maxwell."

"Let's see what the next one wishes for," Candace said, trying to hide her annoyance.

Olivia, a plain and frumpy woman, approached and drank hesitantly.

"Make me the epitome of beauty," she whispered, clasping her hands together.

Olivia's features transformed, her once dull complexion now radiant and flawless. Her hair cascaded in soft waves down her back. The newly stunning woman stared at her reflection in the well water, awe etched across her face.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Candace muttered under her breath, her heart sinking as she realized Roderick would score another point.

"Isn't it just so wonderful?" Roderick drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I do love a good superficial transformation."

"Shut up," Candace snapped, her cheeks flushing with anger. "Not every wish can be profound and life-changing."

"True, but it seems I'm winning nonetheless."

"Does it ever get tiresome?" she sniped at him. "Feeding off people's misery?"

"About as tiresome as you showering them with false hope." He cupped her cheek and gave her a fast kiss on the mouth.

A surge of frustration and desire coursed through her veins. She couldn't let him get under her skin like this, but a part of her wanted to drag him down to the forest floor and ride him until he admitted that he wasn't as bad as he was pretending to be. Or maybe that was just her heart's desire.

"This isn't false hope," she said, pushing down her traitorous thoughts. "We're granting wishes here." She tried not to dwell on the fact that she was zero for three.

"And what wonderfully selfish wishes they are."

A man named Raphael stepped forward. He looked like trouble, and his mind felt oily and slippery. Candace had a sinking feeling that his wish would only lengthen Roderick's lead.

Raphael drank deeply from the well. He wiped his mouth off sloppily with his arm. "I want to know everyone's secrets. Let me read their minds."

The well responded with an eerie glow, and Candace glanced at Roderick, her concern evident. He merely shrugged, seemingly unperturbed by the potential consequences.

"Enjoy your newfound power, nosy neighbor," she muttered under her breath, trying to ignore the uneasy knot forming in her stomach. "And may you choke on the knowledge."

"Do I know my townspeople or what?" Roderick asked, holding up four fingers.

"What is wrong with this town?" As Candace struggled to rein in her frustration, she studied the crowd once more, searching for any hints of hope or kindness among the faces. But all she could see were the dark undercurrents of desire, the selfishness that tainted each wish made at the well. It was a far cry from the innocent dreams she had nurtured in her own realm and a stark reminder of the harsh realities of moonsidhe territories.

Perhaps it's time to change strategies , she thought. If I can't appeal to their better nature, maybe I can show them the consequences of their choices.

"Is it too late to say I told you so?" Roderick's sarcastic voice grated on her nerves.

"Never too late for you to be insufferable," she shot back, her attention fixed on the woman named Melissa, who stepped forward with a sly smile plastered on her face.

"Grant me irresistible charm," Melissa wished. "Let everyone fall under my spell."

The well shimmered in response, and Melissa's smile turned triumphant. Candace gritted her teeth.

Five-zip.

As Melissa strutted away, Candace caught a glimpse of her already charming the pants off an unsuspecting man. She swallowed hard, feeling a twinge of guilt for granting such a potentially dangerous wish.

"But it only lasts for twenty-four hours," Candace said quietly, wiggling her fingers at Melissa's back.

Roderick snorted.

She didn't care. She was getting tired of granting these selfish, misguided wishes.

"I like the caveat," he said. "You're learning."

"I'm not learning anything." She crossed her arms and tried not to huff in frustration.

"Look who it is," Roderick drawled. "David here fancies himself quite the ladies' man."

David swaggered forward and drank from the well. "I wish to be irresistible to women," he proclaimed boldly, the words echoing through the clearing.

As the magic flickered in response and another hashtag appeared in his tally, Roderick chuckled darkly. "This is like taking candy from a baby—or a sugar plum fairy."

Candace couldn't help herself. "But David, you will be unable to get excited by their attentions because you'll know it's only because of your wish that they want you."

"Ouch," Roderick said, looking at her aghast.

"What are you complaining about? You're leading six to nothing."

"I'd say I'm rubbing off on you, but that gets me thinking about other things I'd rather be doing than granting wishes and proving you wrong."

She slugged him in the arm, though it lacked the force she'd intended. "You're infuriating," she muttered.

"But you find it charming, don't you?" He stepped closer to her, enveloping her in a sensuous feeling shadow. It sent an involuntary shiver down her spine, and she cursed herself for reacting so strongly to him.

"It's going to be a long day," she muttered.

The next supplicant was Emily. The young woman took a dainty sip from the ladle. "Let true love find me. A connection that sweeps me off my feet and fills my days with passion."

Warmth spread through her chest as the well responded with a gentle radiance, granting Emma's heartfelt desire. Roderick, however, merely raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of amusement and disdain.

"True love? How quaint. You do realize that such a thing rarely ends well, don't you?"

"Your cynicism is showing." Candace nudged him playfully with her elbow before allowing herself a moment of introspection. It was true. She knew all too well the pitfalls that could accompany a passionate love affair. "Maybe," she conceded, "but sometimes, it's worth the risk."

"Spoken like a true romantic," Roderick scoffed, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Just remember, sugar plum, that love can be as cruel as it is kind."

"Then I suppose it's a good thing we're not in love," she shot back, her cheeks tinged with a hint of pink.

"Truly," he agreed, a wicked glint in his eyes as he stepped closer, his breath hot against her ear. "But who's to say that won't change?"

She was going to ignore that for the moment. "May your heart find the warmth it seeks," she said to Melissa's retreating form. Candace's first hashmark appeared at her feet.

"I suppose I should give you that one," Roderick said. "True love is rather sunshiny and goody-goody."

"Your generosity knows no bounds," she replied, sarcasm dripping from every word.

The next supplicant to drink from the well was Jacob, the bakery owner. Candace saw lines of exhaustion etched into his face.

"I wish for my bakery to be successful," Jacob said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I want success, bustling customers, and financial stability."

"That's more than one wish," Roderick said.

"No, I disagree. He's just specifying." She felt a connection to the baker, as both of them sought to bring happiness, even if it was through something as simple as a sweet treat.

Roderick snorted, casting a dismissive glance in Jacob's direction. "A point for the side fixated on material gains."

"That was worth losing the hashtag to you," she said, staring at his collection of points. Seven to one.

"The numbers are overwhelmingly in my favor," he said.

Candace had to remind herself that it had never been her intention to take Whitlock from Roderick. She wanted to help the people, and that's exactly what they were doing. "I still believe that, given the chance, people will choose kindness over greed."

"Your optimism is charming, albeit misguided," Roderick said.

A woman named Sarah approached the wishing well next. Candace noticed the weight of worry that pulled at her every movement. As she drew closer, Roderick leaned against the edge of the well, his dark gaze fixed on the woman with an intensity that made Candace bristle. Did he find her attractive?

Candace's fingers tightened around the edge of the well, the stone pressing into her palms. She didn't like the flash of jealousy that singed through her.

"Please," Sarah said after drinking the water. "Wishing well, I need my daughter to be healed. She has been suffering for so long, and I cannot bear to watch her pain any longer."

An eerie hush fell over the crowd, as if they were collectively holding their breath. Candace glanced at Roderick, searching for any sign of mockery or disdain, but found only a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He looked away quickly, leaving her to wonder what it meant.

"May your child find the strength to overcome," Candace murmured, her voice gentle and full of empathy.

"Well, that was a wasted wish," Roderick said, but it lacked his usual bluster.

"What are you talking about?" Candace said, admiring the hashmark at her feet. "Her daughter will make a full recovery."

He waved his hand and revealed that he had peered into Sarah's future. "There is still tragedy ahead for this family."

Candace frowned at what she saw in the mists of time. "But not this year. Not for several more years, in fact."

"And when this comes to pass will Sarah look back on our gift and her wish and curse herself for not being more specific that she should have asked for her entire family to be immune to the plague."

"Will you give her that nightmare?"

Roderick shook his head. "No. Will you send her a pleasant dream when her husband dies in five years?"

"Yes," Candace said. "I will show her happiness to ease her grief."

"It's false."

"No, it's not. She has hope now, and hope will get her through the dark days ahead."

"Hope isn't always enough, is it?"

"Sometimes it's all we have. And sometimes it makes all the difference."

"Or sometimes it just prolongs the inevitable."

"Then focus on their moments of joy," Candace suggested, turning to look him in the eye. "Those are the moments that matter most."

He was silent for a long time. More and more people came and asked for help for others, but Candace didn't have it in her to feel triumphant. Not when she was still haunted by Sarah's future.

By the time the line trickled to the last supplicant, the sun hung low in the sky, casting elongated shadows across the wishing well. It was as if the light itself clung desperately to the day, unwilling to yield to the encroaching darkness.

"I'm so tired," Candace said. She felt wan and shaky.

Roderick reached down to hold her hand. It steadied her.

A man named Stephen took a deep breath and faced the well, drinking the last sip the well had for the day. "Wishing well, I seek reconciliation with my family. I wish for forgiveness and unity."

The well responded with a mix of emotions, the water shimmering with hues of sadness and hope. Stephen visibly trembled.

"Good luck," Candace said, the surge of energy she expended to grant the wish filling her with energy instead of depleting it.

"I'm still winning," Roderick said with a trace of his usual arrogance.

"See," she crowed as Stephen walked back to town, a pep in his step that hadn't been there before. "He has hope for a brighter tomorrow."

"Again with the hope. Why don't you realize that hope can be a dangerous thing? It can blind us to reality, keep us trapped in an endless cycle of disappointment."

"Hope is what keeps people going when things look their darkest. That's why dreams are so important."

"But darkness has its own appeal, doesn't it? After all, why else would you be so drawn to me?"

"Maybe I enjoy a challenge," she retorted. "Or perhaps I just can't resist your endless charm."

"Careful, Sugar Plum. You wouldn't want to give me any ideas about how easily you might fall under my spell."

If he only knew.