24
" The overhead lights hit the Serch Bythol sculpture on the utmost tier, the sugar crystals shimmering and dancing like a cascade of diamonds. The planes of the cake beneath were clean and crisp, and the sugar-stained glass panels caught every light on the ceiling, throwing back shimmering rainbow rays. Sylvie was most proud of the silhouette that circled the middle stained-glass tiers--the skylines of London and Johnny's family estate in Lancashire. Only when viewed at close range did a second, hidden skyline emerge from within the reflective depths---the fantasy lands of I, Slayer, complete with a tiny, flying dragon. It was a work of art---and even now, she was taken aback by the level of harmony they had achieved, twinning together two very different styles.
In honor of the union of two very different people, whose lives would hopefully interlock just as successfully. "
― , Battle Royal (Palace Insiders, #1)
29
" There's still a hefty amount of protocol, and even if the bride and groom look like they've respectively stepped out of The Nightmare Before Christmas and an Archie comic, the royal tradition is---"
"The brandy-soaked, raisin spotted, intestine-clogging brick known as fruitcake," Pet interrupted. "Will look and taste the same whether it was made yesterday or two decades ago. And at no time during its lengthy existence will anyone want to eat it. I've told you, the bride likes chocolate cake. Specifically and vitally, she apparently likes your Death by Chocolate fudge cake. Very little about this couple conforms to royal standards, which is half the reason the bookies are already taking revolting odds on how long the marriage will last, or if they'll actually make it to the altar. Rose is infamously a strong personality and a massive pain in her family's arse. I guarantee that however she has to bend to tradition, she'll wrangle final say over details like the inside of her cake. "
― , Battle Royal (Palace Insiders, #1)
30
" Sylvie flicked her brush over the dragon, leaving a line of glittering pigment on the spiked tail. The edible paint had an oil-slick effect, shimmering from blue to pink to purple to black under the light.
"What time do I have to---" Jay began.
"Shhh," hissed about fifteen voices at once, as Sylvie picked up the dragon and set it on the lowest tier of the cake.
Three layers of rich chocolate cake, covered in mirror glaze icing, marbled blue, purple, and black, with gold paint etched and feathered to replicate the appearance of the sugar dragon's scales. She wound the tail upward, adjusting the long curve to swoop neatly around the top tier, the very tip coming to rest protectively on the sculpted couple who sat on the edge, their legs dangling, tiny sugar ankles entwined.
One totally edible princess with long black hair and thick eyeliner. Her endearingly fluffy blond love. And Caractacus, the dragon sentinel from the video game I, Slayer, over which the royal couple had apparently bonded, turning an excruciating first private date into an all-nighter. From curt questions and stammering answers to a beer-drinking, ogre-bashing bonk-fest.
Just like all good fairy tales. The Brothers Grimm would be proud. "
― , Battle Royal (Palace Insiders, #1)
31
" Oh, my goodness," Sylvie said with obvious delight, immediately leaning down for a closer look at the former professor's Beauty and the Beast spread.
There were iced biscuits, piped well, each in the shape of an animated character. Happily chomping down on a smiling teapot, Mariana cooed, "Look at the gingerbread houses."
Adam had re-created the central square of a small French-inspired town in gingerbread blocks, chocolate beams, and blown sugar fountains. He'd mechanized the latter to spill out a cascade of syrup, which fizzed like sherbet and tasted far better than Dominic had expected.
Most of the sugar-craft requirements had been checked off on the cake, however, and the sculpted objects that stood atop the icing. Even for a highly skilled, trained sugar artist, it was difficult to pull off a human figure, and Adam had wisely opted for the Beast's enchanted household: the clock, the candelabra, and so on. "
― , Battle Royal (Palace Insiders, #1)
34
" Rosie and Johnny's relationship was being ripped to shreds, with the press and public pawing over the pieces like wild dogs.
The emotional chasm between Dominic and Pet had been torn even wider.
Apparently, Sylvie had been wasting time, money, and ingredients for months, constantly defending this woman to Jay.
And someone intimately connected to the Starlight Circus had just called her décor "kitsch."
"Penny," she said very calmly, with a smile just as vague, just as airy, and just as malicious, "get the fuck out of my home."
Penny tossed her head---and froze as Mabel walked toward her, hips swinging, also smiling.
That smile had more eerie impact than every lighting effect in the Dark Forest combined.
The intern took a step back, but halted in momentary confusion when Mabel offered her the lollipop.
She took the candy skull automatically, and then shrieked as Mabel---tiny, deceptively delicate Mabel---made a blur of a movement with her foot and Penny tumbled across her shoulders.
Whistling, Mabel walked toward the back door and out into the alley, wearing Penny around her neck like a scarf. Through the window, Sylvie watched as her assistant calmly threw the intern into the dumpster.
As a stream of profanity drifted from the piles of rubbish--most of which, incidentally, was all the ingredients Penny had purposely wasted--Mabel returned to the kitchen.
"I'll be off, then," she said, collecting her bag and coat from their hook.
"Have a good night," Sylvie returned serenely.
As Mabel passed her, without turning her head or altering her expression, their hands fleetingly clasped.
The door swung closed, leaving Sylvie alone with Dominic in a lovely, clean kitchen, while her former intern made a third cross attempt to clamber from the trash. "
― , Battle Royal (Palace Insiders, #1)
37
" At the street level, Sugar Fair welcomed customers into a bright, child-like fantasy. The architecturally designed enchanted forest was awash in jewel tones, and gorgeous smells, and the waterfall of free-flowing chocolate.
But it was the Dark Forest downstairs that had proved an unexpected money-spinner, an income stream that had helped keep them afloat through the precarious first year.
Four nights a week, through a haze of purple smoke and bubbling cauldrons, Sylvie taught pre-booked groups how to make concoctions that would tease the senses, delight the mind... and knock people flat on their arse if they weren't careful. High percentage of alcohol. It was a mixology class with a lot of tricks and pyrotechnics. It had been Jay's idea to get a liquor license.
"Pleasures of the mouth," he'd said at the time. "The holy trinity--- chocolate, coffee, and booze."
With even her weekends completely blocked out, Sylvie had almost made a crack about forfeiting certain other pleasures of the mouth, but Jay had inherited a puritanical streak from his mother. Both their mouths looked like dried cranberries if someone made a sex joke.
The sensuous, moody haven in the basement was a counterbalance to the carefully manufactured atmosphere upstairs. There were, after all, reasons to shy away from relentless cheer. Perhaps someone had just been through a breakup, or a family reunion. A really distressing haircut. Maybe they'd logged on to Twitter and realized half the population were a bunch of pricks. Or maybe the'd picked up the Metropolitan News and found Dominic De Vere indirectly thrashing their entire business aesthetic in a major London daily.
Whatever the reason--- feeling a little stressed? A bit peeved? Annoyed as fuck? Welcome to the Dark Forest. Through the bakery, turn left, down the stairs. "
― , Battle Royal (Palace Insiders, #1)
