She smiled. “I have confidence in you. I’ll see you in two.”
He was already pulling iron out of the sack before she finished walking to the door.
SEVEN
MORNING MIST ROLLED off the sea and crawled along the merchant district’s canals as Ari and Cleo disembarked from the palace’s long, sleek narrowboat and stepped onto the dock. Two of Thad’s newly hired royal guards followed them. It had been over a week since Thad’s coronation and the unsettling appearance of the little man with the cold smile and magic in his fingertips.
Or in his blood. Or wherever fae magic was kept.
Ari hadn’t yet found an opportunity to question Thad privately about his bargain with Teague. Her brother had been beleaguered with responsibilities from early morning until long into the night. Closed-door meetings with high-ranking nobles, visits with dignitaries from neighboring kingdoms, heated discussions with the Kosim Thalas steward over the rise in crime, and Assembly sessions that he’d required her to attend as part of his push to get her ready to rule in his place. She’d protested because, after her lunch with Lady Tassi, Ari had her own list of things she needed to do, none of which included dying of boredom in an Assembly meeting, but Thad refused to budge.
When she wasn’t busy enduring the meetings, Ari had spent the last few days reading up on the fae and the isle of Llorenyae. She hadn’t learned anything from the palace library that she hadn’t already heard from Lady Tassi.
The one useful thing she’d done was to gather iron from the palace smithy and charge the (very intriguing) weapons master with making something deadly and not too heavy. With the creation of the weapons under way, Ari had turned her attention to getting some bloodflower poison. The palace physician didn’t keep any on hand and had looked at her strangely when she’d asked for it. That left a trip to the market and her favorite spice shop. Preferably not on Mama Eleni’s regular market day—nobody killed a perfectly good plan faster than Mama Eleni.
“It’s odd coming into the city without your mother,” Ari said, trying to ignore the throb of pain that ached in her heart at the thought that she’d never come to the city again with her own mother. Missing Mama was a wound that refused to close. It was a dark hole in the corner of her heart that hurt every time she brushed up against it, and she knew that no matter where she went or what became of her, that pain would belong to her for the rest of her days.
“Just pray Mama keeps believing you had an early lunch with Lady Zabat. If she finds out we came to the markets on one of her non-market-going days, she’s going to kill us.” Cleo paused for effect. “Actually, she can’t kill you because you’re the princess, so I’ll take the fall for us both.”
“She’ll never know.” Ari linked her arm through Cleo’s as they left the dock and entered the merchant district.
Crowds were already starting to move along sidewalks paved in white stone. Merchants stood outside their shops, splashing buckets of water on the pastel walls or briskly sweeping dust from their stoops. Friendly poppies in riotous colors peeped out of window boxes and lent their sweet scent to the smell of baking bread and spiced tea as the girls passed a café and turned west.
“Spice merchant first and then lunch?” Cleo asked, sniffing appreciatively at a display of sweet cheese pastries. “Oh, and can we stop at the glassblower’s? I want to see if he has any broken bits he’ll part with.”
“What are you making this time?”
Cleo’s voice brightened. “I got scraps of leather from the tanner’s last week, and I’m going to dye them in the prettiest colors. I might have to use a lot of dye . . . Maybe don’t mention this project to Mama.”
“My lips are sealed. What does broken glass have to do with leather scraps?”
“I want to create a portrait that marries the delicate beauty of glass with the tough resilience of leather. I’m going to call it Girl.”
“Sounds perfect. I need to stop at the bookstore first to do more research. The spice shop is north of there, and the glassblower’s is closer to the docks, so can we do that last?” Ari steered Cleo to the opposite side of the street.
“I didn’t hear you mention stopping for pastries. I didn’t sneak behind Mama’s back only to skip our usual pastry break.”
Ari laughed. “Never let it be said that I skipped our pastry break. We’ll do that after the spice shop.”
The Open Page was a blue rectangle at the end of a narrow street, just past a milliner’s. Rahel, the owner, was a thin, birdlike woman with narrow features and a soft, pleasant voice.
There was another customer in the shop when Cleo and Ari entered, leaving their pair of guards outside the door. Both Rahel and the customer quickly bowed when they recognized Ari. She waved at them to rise and continue with their transaction as she turned to peruse the shelves of leather-bound books and scrolls of parchment.
“You have to stop doing that,” Cleo whisper-hissed in her ear as she took a book of her own off the shelf.
“Doing what?” Ari stared at her friend.
“Acting uncomfortable when people bow to you.”
“Well, I am uncomfortable.”
“But they have no choice. If they don’t bow and their disrespect is reported to the city guard, they’ll be fined. You can’t wave it off when failure to show you deference could cost them more than they make in a month.” Cleo flipped a few pages of her book and then set it back on the shelf.
Ari was silent for a moment as she considered Cleo’s words. “You’re right. I hate that it’s so awkward. I’m just me. If they spent any significant amount of time with me at all, they’d realize how ridiculous it is to bow to me all the time.”
“You’ll get no argument from me there.” Cleo grinned at Ari, and then turned as Rahel ushered her previous customer out of the shop and approached the girls.
“Your Highness, Cleo, what a delight to have you in my shop this morning.” Her eyes darted toward the store’s entrance. “But . . . this isn’t your usual market day. Where is Mama Eleni? Does she know you’re here?”
“We have guards with us, and Ari is the princess now, so she can do what she wants, and Mama Eleni doesn’t need to hear about this. Ever.” Cleo’s words tumbled from her mouth in a rush.
Rahel twisted her fingers together and glanced at the entrance again. “Quickly, then. What can I help you with?”
Ari couldn’t exactly say “Good morning. I want to know how to stop a powerful fae who happens to live in Kosim Thalas. Can you help?” Not without starting rumors that she couldn’t afford Teague to hear. Not until she really did have the ability to stop him from hurting her brother.
Pasting a smile on her face, Ari said, “I’m researching Llorenyae, specifically the fae and any lore surrounding them. I have storybooks of fae myths, but I’m more interested in the actual history of the fae.”
Rahel frowned as she examined her shelves. “Thirty-nine Summer Nights?”
“I have that one.”
“Magic in the Moonlight: A Nursery Primer?”
“I have that one too. I don’t want a storybook. I want a history book. Something that will separate fact from fiction when it comes to the fae,” Ari said.
Rahel ran her hands down the spines of the books in front of her. “There is one book, Leabhar na Fae. Have you heard of it?”
Ari shook her head.
“I’m not surprised.” Rahel left the shelves and walked to her desk, casting another glance at the doorway. Ari followed her gaze but saw nothing unusual in the street beyond. “Leabhar na Fae means ‘Book of the Fae.’ There are only three copies in existence, and two of those are in Llorenyae. One in the Summer Court and one in the Winter Court. The third copy is owned by a collector of rare antiquities in Balavata. He won’t sell the original to you, but his daughter has transcribed a copy that can be borrowed for a fee. Would you like me to order it for you?”
“And it isn’t a story? It’s factual?” Ari asked.
“It’s the history of
the fae since time began. Of course, the language in the first quarter or more of the book is so archaic, it’s nearly impossible to understand unless you are a scholar of all things fae, but the latter part of the book is quite informative, I’m told. It contains the usual lore—fae substituting their changeling babies for human babies, humans killing younger fae with iron, the great war between the Summer and Winter courts—”
“Anything about using bloodflower against them?” Ari asked. “Bloodflower and iron together?”
Rahel’s pleasant expression dimmed into something alert and watchful. “May I ask why you’re looking into bloodflower and iron, Your Highness?”
Ari shrugged and tried to sound casual. “Just taking precautions. I’ve heard there’s a powerful fae living in Súndraille. He makes deals with people and I thought . . . Are you all right?”
Rahel’s face had gone clammy, and she looked faintly sick.
“Rahel? Did I say something wrong?” Ari asked.
“Why are you asking these questions, Your Highness?” Rahel sounded shaken.
Ari tried to sound casual. “I’ve heard rumors, and I just wanted to see if they were true.” When Rahel didn’t look convinced, Ari rushed on. “The king needs to know if we have a fae living among us, making deals with his subjects. I’ve heard the name Teague—”
“Don’t make a wish, Your Highness. It’s not worth it. It never is.” Rahel leaned across her desk, her voice trembling. “There isn’t anything you want that could be worth the pain of dealing with the Wish Granter.”
Ari blinked. “Um . . . I’m not talking about the Wish Granter. I’m not interested in children’s stories. I was talking about a creepy little man named Teague.”
Rahel drew back, straightening parchment on her desk with fingers that shook so much she knocked the parchment to the floor. Her voice was a whisper. “All fae myths are based in fact, Your Highness. Teague is the Wish Granter, and you would do well to stay far away from him.”
Ari frowned. It was difficult to accept that the horrible stories Thad’s nanny, Babette, had told the twins about the Wish Granter were real, but it was clear Rahel believed she was telling the truth. And it was equally clear that Teague had powerful magic and had come to an agreement with Thad.
Maybe that meant Thad had made a wish, though she couldn’t imagine what he’d want badly enough to get involved with a creature like Teague.
Rahel was still waiting for Ari’s reply.
“I’ll stay away from Teague,” Ari said. At least until she was prepared to force him to release her brother from his debt. “Please do order the book for me. When will it be in?”
“Four or five weeks.” Rahel looked past them to the city street outside her door. “You should leave now. Go back to the palace. This isn’t a day for marketing.”
Ari examined the street as she and Cleo left the bookshop and turned right to walk the three blocks to the spice merchant. It was still somewhat crowded, though there were more men than women entering the shops, which was different from their usual market day. Still, Ari saw nothing to explain Rahel’s nervousness.
“She was acting strangely today,” Cleo said, shoving an errant curl out of her eyes as their guards fell in step behind them.
“She obviously knows enough about Teague to be afraid of him.” And she’d unwittingly given Ari a new piece of information—the name Wish Granter. Ari had never actually believed a powerful fae had been exiled to Súndraille and went around granting your deepest desires at a terrible price. But Rahel wasn’t a liar, and Ari had seen Teague’s magic with her own eyes, right after he discussed the bargain he’d made with her brother.
What had Thad wished for? And what was the price he’d agreed to? Dread curled in her belly, heavy and cold.
“Rahel was acting strangely even before you brought Teague up,” Cleo said, interrupting Ari’s thoughts.
Pushing her questions to the back of her mind, Ari looped her arm through Cleo’s as they turned north and picked up their pace. “Maybe because if Mama Eleni finds out Rahel helped us while we were at the market without permission, Rahel will need to go into hiding in Balavata to survive.”
“I concede the point. Now slow down. Not all of us are blessed with legs up to our chins.”
Ari shortened her stride and reviewed the assets she had in her secret battle against Teague. Iron being fashioned into weapons by the new weapons master. A book on order that contained the entire history of the fae and hopefully their weaknesses. Or at least the weaknesses of the Wish Granter. And soon, if her luck held, she’d have some ground bloodflower.
Teague had crossed the wrong family this time.
“There really are a lot of men on the street today,” Cleo said as they turned onto the road that ran by the spice shop. “And they don’t seem to be shopping.”
Ari glanced around. Young men around her age moved in pairs from shop to shop on the street they’d just left behind. They were dressed in a ragtag assortment of patched clothing, and there was a hardness to their expressions that sent a whisper of unease down Ari’s spine. The buzz of customers moving with purpose from one item on their list to the next had fallen silent, though there were still plenty of people on their current street.
“Your Highness!” A man rushed from his spice shop to bow deeply as the girls came abreast of his doorway.
“Edwin, how nice to see you.” Ari beamed at the merchant.
His gaze darted along the street before returning to her. “What are you doing in the market today? Where is Mama Eleni?”
“It’s just us, but we—”
“Come in! No lingering in the streets today.” Edwin all but pulled the girls into the shop. The guards took up their post outside the entrance as Edwin flipped the wooden sign that hung above his display window to Closed and faced the princess.
“What’s wrong?” Ari asked as Cleo made a show of rubbing her wrist as if Edwin’s grasp had hurt her.
“Forgive me, Your Highness.” He glanced at the street again. “But it’s Thursday.”
“That’s what generally happens after you have a Wednesday,” Cleo muttered.
“We’ll only be a minute,” Ari said, despite the chill that was spreading over her skin at the strange way Edwin was acting. She’d gotten away with lying to Mama Eleni and sneaking out to the market once. Princess or not, the chances of that happening again any time in the next decade were slim to none. And she needed the bloodflower poison. She especially needed it without having to explain why to Cleo’s mother, who would undoubtedly try to take on Teague herself for daring to upset her king and her princess.
The inside of the spice shop was cozy and warm. The dark red floor and pale yellow walls glowed in the light of small candelabras spaced throughout, and racks of jars were filled with colorful ground spices and herbs.
“We should do this quickly. What would you like, Your Highness?” Edwin asked, his tone urgent.
Ari frowned. “Why is everyone in such a rush today?”
Edwin shook his head sharply. “Now is not the time to discuss it. Please, Your Highness, tell me what you need.”
Ari met his gaze. “Bloodflower poison.”
He frowned. “If you have rats in your stable, may I suggest monkshood or elderberry?”
“We don’t have rats.”
“But then why . . . whatever animal you need poisoned can be killed with monkshood or—”
“I need bloodflower.” She looked him in the eye. “Nothing else will do.”
He glanced at the window behind her and then motioned sharply for her to come farther into the shop. Cleo and Ari followed as Edwin led them to a small, dusty cabinet in the back. Fishing a key out of his pocket, he fit it into the lock with hands that shook.
“What’s wrong?” Ari asked quietly as the cabinet door swung open with a creak.
“We aren’t supposed to carry bloodflower,” Edwin whispered as he reached into the cabin and pulled out a small red jar sealed with wax. �
�If anyone finds out I gave this to you . . . Please don’t tell anyone, Your Highness.”
Ari took the jar and slid it into the little satchel hanging from her wrist before pressing a generous amount of coin into Edwin’s hands. “I don’t know who told you that, but bloodflower isn’t against the law. You won’t get in any trouble.”
His smile was a wretched parody of itself. “It isn’t the law I’m worried about.”
The handle on the shop’s front door rattled, and a man called out, “Time to pay your fee, Edwin. Open up.”
“What fee?” Ari looked from the door to Edwin’s stricken face.
The merchant sprang into action. Wrapping a hand around each girl’s arm, he pulled them toward the back exit.
“Your Highness, it isn’t safe on the streets today. You must take your guards and get back to the dock quickly.” He reached for the door. “And, please, don’t tell anyone you were here.”
A dull thud hit the back door, and it flew open with a bang. Edwin stumbled backward, dragging the girls with him, as two of the young men Ari had noticed earlier strode into the shop.
“Why don’t you want anyone to know these pretty little coin purses were here, Edwin?” the taller one asked, his dark eyes boring into the shopkeeper’s face.
The shorter one grinned at Ari, putting what was left of his yellowed teeth on full display. “Looks like nobility to me. Bet someone would pay handsomely to rescue you from where you’re going.”
“No!” Edwin lunged forward as the man reached for Ari, and suddenly there was a wicked-looking knife in the tall one’s hands.
“Step outside, ladies, or I’ll gut Edwin where he stands.” His voice was hard.
The fear that had been slithering over Ari’s skin became a wild rush of panic that shook her knees and turned her fingers cold.
“Please.” Edwin raised his hands in supplication. “Just take my weekly fee. I have it ready for you. Take it and go. These girls mean nothing to you.”
The shorter one sidled up to Cleo and ran his hand up her arm. She flinched and pulled away. Faster than a blink, he whipped his hand into the air and slapped her.
The Wish Granter (Ravenspire Book 2) Page 6