“And we won’t be here by morning.” I flicked a finger, and the last of my anger leapt onto the papers. Beau yelped when they caught flame, dropping them into the cart. Our faces burned to ash within seconds. “The stalls will be closing soon. Let’s turn this market upside down.”
An hour later, we regrouped at the end of the street. Bad-tempered. Empty-handed.
Nicholina swayed in the wind. A tendril of white hair swept free of her hood. “Drown, drown, drown.”
Scowling, Coco peered through the crowd again. But one could hardly call it a crowd now. Most of the villagers had retired for the night. Only a handful still danced in the street. They stumbled from wine, clutching each other and giggling. By the water, only the staunchest of fishermen remained. And the drunkest. “We should go. There’s nothing here. Tomorrow we can circle back—”
Beau slashed a curt hand. “I told you. We looked everywhere. There were no pearls in any of those villages.”
I too scoured the carts nearest us. Whitewashed coral. Driftwood chimes. Baskets of woven seaweed, cups of crystallized sea salt, jars of preserved anchovies. Jars and jars of anchovies. Beau knocked one to the ground in frustration, and the glass shattered. Célie leapt backward with a startled cry. When the oil soaked her boots, he snorted, and she retaliated by kicking an anchovy at his face.
Children. I was surrounded by children.
“Enough.” Voice sharp, I pivoted in one last circle to ensure I hadn’t missed anything. But my desperation yielded nothing new. Anchois boasted no pearls, black or otherwise.
“My apologies.” Célie sniffed in a dignified way. “It shan’t happen again.”
“You’re going to smell like fish for at least a fortnight,” Beau said.
Exhaling hard through my nose, I wheeled to face him. “Could you at least try to stop provoking everyo—”
A wooden sign behind him caught my attention. A familiar name.
LA CURIEUSE MADAME SAUVAGE
PRICES AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST
I frowned and nudged him aside. Madame Sauvage. I knew that name. How did I know that name? The sign itself—half-hidden and half-rotted—stood between a stall of spindly combs and a barrel of fish oil. I pointed to it. “That wasn’t there before, was it?”
Coco’s eyes narrowed as she followed my finger. “I don’t see anything.”
“Well, look. It’s right—” I blinked, and the words died on my tongue. I was pointing at the fish oil, not the sign. Because there was no sign. Dropping my finger hastily, I shook my head. Blinked again. “I—never mind.”
“Nothing there,” Nicholina said, her voice unexpectedly harsh. She tugged on Coco’s hand. “Nothing, nothing.”
Coco huffed impatiently before drawing her cloak more tightly around her. “If you’re quite done—” But her eyes widened when she glanced back. “That—that wasn’t there before.”
Slowly, as if cornering a frightened animal, my gaze returned to the stall and barrel. Sure enough, the wooden sign had rematerialized between them. Emerald and aubergine silk fluttered from the cart behind it. As if it’d been there all along.
“Magic,” Célie whispered.
Coco and I shared a wary glance before creeping forward.
Though I clutched a knife in my bandolier, the cart itself didn’t seem dangerous. Jewelry of all shapes and colors gleamed from the cluttered shelves. Real jewelry. With gemstones and precious metals, not fish bones and octopi tentacles. An assortment of dusty bottles joined them. Dried flowers. Leather-bound books. On a ledge at the back, a crimson-and-gold snake slumbered in a glass cage. Célie approached it in fascination.
I took a deep breath, trying and failing to suppress my unease.
No, it didn’t seem dangerous, but there—displayed proudly on the middle shelf—three black pearls nestled in a bed of velvet. It couldn’t have been coincidence. When Beau moved toward them, eager, I stilled him with the shake of my head, glancing around for the owner. This mysterious Madame Sauvage. Though nowhere to be seen, she’d tacked a scrap of parchment to the sign:
WILL RETURN
Coco caught the tail of the emerald silk between two fingers. “Perfect. Makes this easy.”
“Too easy,” I said before grasping her meaning. Then— “Wait. You want to steal them?”
“I’m a thief, Reid.” Gaze suddenly alert, she glanced from the cart to the street, assessing the landscape. Tracking the couple closest us. They strolled past hand in hand, oblivious to our presence. When I stepped in front of her, blocking her view, she smirked. “Lou is a thief too, you know. And as soon as we’ve saved her, you can soak in your virtue until your fingers wrinkle with it. Until then . . .” She slipped past me, lifting a casual shoulder. “We need these pearls. It’s better if no one sees our faces.” Her eyes lit on something behind me, and she laughed, tossing them my way. “Perfect. A reward for your silence.”
I caught the leather pants against my chest. “This isn’t funny.”
“Au contraire. Lou is going to need a laugh after all of this.” Her smirk faded then. “You told me to hope, Reid, but hope means nothing without action. I will do whatever it takes to save her. Whatever it takes. Are you willing to do the same? Or shall Lou fall on the sword of your principles?”
I glared at her.
“Fabulous. Now. Don’t move. You make an excellent shield.”
Jaw clenched, I crushed the leather in my fist, watching as she sauntered toward the pearls. When Nicholina moved to knock them aside with her elbow, I caught the rope, untying it from Coco with deft fingers. I wrapped it around my own wrist instead. When Coco glanced back at me, I nodded. This wasn’t right, but Lou wasn’t right, either. The world wasn’t right. After L’Eau Mélancolique, I would pay Madame Sauvage back with interest. I would find a dozen black pearls to replace these three, and—
Wait.
Only three?
“There are five of us,” I said.
“That shouldn’t be a problem.” Heart leaping to my throat, I whirled toward the new voice. Coco’s hand froze above the pearls. An elderly woman stepped around the cart, her shoulders stooped and her face deeply lined. She wore an olive scarf around her silver hair. Innumerable rings on her ears, her fingers, her toes. Her bare toes. An emerald cloak dragged on the ground behind. She grinned, revealing crooked teeth. “Humans can’t enter L’Eau Mélancolique. The waters drive them mad.”
Nicholina hissed beneath her hood, drawing into me.
I studied the woman. “Have we . . . met before, madame?”
“Perhaps? Then again, perhaps not. I have one of those faces, I fear. Le visage de beaucoup, le visage d’aucun. The face always seen—”
“—the face never remembered,” I finished the old adage by rote. But . . .
Her smile turned knowing. “Hello, dearies. Welcome to my cabinet of curiosities. How may I serve you today?”
Recognition finally dawned at her words, and different shelves rose in rapid succession, each a knife wound in my memory: dancing rats and glass beetles, pointed teeth and butterfly wings. An ugly marionette, a mother-of-pearl ring, and . . . an old woman.
An old woman who’d known more than she should.
Might I interest you in calla lilies? They’re said to symbolize humility and devotion. The perfect blooms to end any lovers’ quarrel.
Half-healed punctures, all. Still bleeding at the edges.
“Madame Sauvage,” I said, lip curling.
She smiled kindly. “Bonjour, Reid. What a pleasure it is to see you again.” Her smile faded as she took in Nicholina, whose face remained hidden. “Oh, dear.” The woman tittered. “I would greet our fair Louise, but it seems another has taken residence—” She stopped abruptly, tilting her head. “Well, well, well . . . more than one someone, I think, and a powerful one at that.” Her smile returned full measure, and she clapped her hands in delight. “Louise le Blanc, both cursed and blessed. How riveting.”
More than one someone? I frowned. She meant
Nicholina, of course, but—blessed?
“You would know,” Nicholina snarled with something like fear. “Oh, yes, you would recognize—”
“Ah, ah, ah.” With a shake of Madame Sauvage’s finger, Nicholina’s voice ceased. Her body seemed to grow roots. “That is quite enough from you, Nicola. There shall be no blood or secrets spilled in my cart. Please, be still and observe.”
“How do you—?” I asked.
“You three know each other?” Célie interrupted, nonplussed.
Madame Sauvage winked. The gesture didn’t suit her withered face. “I suppose one could say that. Last we met, their quarreling nearly shattered my windows.” Though she adopted an air of careful indifference, curiosity sparkled in her dark eyes. “I trust our lovebirds have reconciled?”
Still incredulous, confused, I threw the leather pants on a nearby shelf. “It’s none of your business.”
She hmphed at my tone, but her impish smile didn’t waver. Her gaze flicked from me to Célie, lingering on where Beau and Coco hovered near the snake. “Just so, and yet . . . it seems you are once again in need of assistance.”
“How much for the pearls?” Coco asked.
“The pearls,” Madame Sauvage repeated softly. She looked positively spry. “Well, my dear, the pearls are nearly priceless. What are you willing to give for them?”
Anything.
Nicholina still hadn’t moved.
“We have coin,” I said automatically. “Lots of coin.”
“Oh dear.” Madame Sauvage tittered again and shook her head. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. That won’t do, will it? I don’t sully my hands with money.”
A flash of surprise crossed Coco’s face. “What do you want, then?”
“Whatever it is,” Beau muttered, “it can’t be good.”
Madame Sauvage’s entire face split into a grin. “Oh, no, Your Highness, you have entirely the wrong idea! Never fear, ’tis nothing nefarious. You see, I deal only in simple favors. Just tokens, really. Trifles.”
I scowled. “Nothing simple about a favor.”
“What favor?” Coco asked, part apprehensive and part impatient. “Just tell us, so we can do it.”
“Of course, of course.” If possible, Madame Sauvage’s smile widened. “As I said, it’s quite simple: one favor for one pearl. My apologies,” she added to Beau and Célie, inclining her head, “but truly, L’Eau Mélancolique is no place for humans. ’Tis dark and dangerous, dears. More than monsters lurk within its depths.”
Beau scoffed in disbelief. “What are we supposed to do, then? Twiddle our thumbs on the shore?”
“How do you know so much about L’Eau Mélancolique?” Coco asked at the same time.
“Tell us the favors.” I raised my voice over theirs. Yes, this strange little cart had appeared from thin air. This stranger little woman seemed to know all our plans, to know Nicholina. Truthfully, she seemed more . . . inquisitive than nefarious, and what choice did we have? We needed the pearls. Her pearls. We could deal with the consequences after we’d procured them.
The woman in question rubbed her gnarled hands together. “We’ll start with the easy one, yes? Just a kiss.”
Just a kiss.
Silence descended like a knife dropped point-first. Instead of lodging at our feet, however, it hovered over our heads. Deadly and sharp. No one dared look at another. I didn’t glance at Célie or Nicholina. Neither peeked at me. Beau and Coco stared resolutely at the floor. Finally, I asked, “Between . . . who?”
Cackling, Madame Sauvage lifted a crooked finger to Beau and Coco.
The knife hit its mark.
Beau stiffened. Coco gaped. The tension knotting my own spine, however, left in a rush, and I tried not to sigh with relief. Célie had no qualms. She sagged against a basket of beetles with a shaky laugh.
“The liars, of course.” Madame Sauvage nodded with what might’ve been encouragement. Or glee. “They shall kiss, and the truth shall out. There is truth in a kiss,” she added to Célie and me conspiratorially. Célie nodded, though I suspected not because she agreed. No. Because she’d do anything to avoid Madame Sauvage’s ire now.
I nodded right along with her.
Coco barely moved her lips as she mumbled, “I’m not lying about anything.”
Beau snorted at that.
Though sympathetic to Coco’s plight—truly—I reached over to squeeze her shoulder. “Whatever it takes, right?”
She scowled at me.
I smothered a grin. I wasn’t enjoying this. I wasn’t.
Pushing my hand aside with a muttered curse, she stepped forward. Stopped. Closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. When she opened them again, stony resolve had hardened in their depths. She nodded once to Beau, who looked strangely reluctant. He didn’t shrink from her gaze, however. Didn’t ease the tension with a joke. He simply stared at her, unmoving. “Just do it,” she said. “Hurry up.”
He grimaced at the words but took a small step forward, lowering his voice. “If I remember correctly, Cosette, you don’t like it hurried.” Another step. Coco’s fingers still trembled. She fisted them in her skirt. “Not with me.”
“I don’t like anything with you.”
One side of his mouth quirked as he looked down at her, but my own humor faded at his expression. I didn’t want to see the emotions in his eyes. I didn’t want to see the tenderness. The ache. Even so, his reluctance shone just as clear. He didn’t want to kiss her. Not here. Not now. Not like this. “Liar,” he whispered.
Then he lowered his lips to hers.
A heartbeat passed as they stood there, bodies rigid and separate. Lips barely touching. Two heartbeats. Three. With a sigh of resignation, Beau moved to pull away, but Coco—
I rolled my eyes.
She wouldn’t let him. Her hands crept up his neck, into his hair, holding him there. No. Bringing him closer. Deepening the kiss. When her lips parted on a sigh, he didn’t hesitate, his arm snaking out around the small of her back and hauling her flush against him. But it wasn’t close enough. Not for Coco. She pressed harder, clutched him tighter, until he chuckled and walked her backward. When her back hit the nearest shelf, he lifted her atop it, spread her knees to push between them. Slow and measured. Unhurried. Until she bit his lip. Something seemed to snap in him then.
Beside me, Célie watched their hands grow frantic—their breaths louder—with round, startled eyes. Her cheeks flamed scarlet. “Oh my,” she said.
I averted my gaze. “This has been a long time coming.”
“Or not coming,” Madame Sauvage said, arching a wry brow.
I cringed at the innuendo. “How old are you?”
“Young enough, boy. I’m young enough.”
Right. With that imagery in my head, I cleared my throat. Beau had just slid a hand up Coco’s calf, hooking it around her knee to pull her closer. His fingers caressed her skin there. I repeated the sound, louder this time, and grinned despite myself. “Hello! Yes, pardon!” My grin deepened when he pulled back abruptly, as if surfacing from deep water. Blinking slow. Breathing heavy. “As it seems to have escaped your notice, there are other people here.”
He still didn’t acknowledge us, however. He stared at Coco instead. She stared at him. Neither spoke for several seconds. At last, with infinite gentleness, he brushed his lips against her forehead and stepped away, tugging her skirt back into place. “We’ll finish this later.”
Her awareness seemed to return then. Her sense. She leapt from the shelf hastily, knocking aside a bin of glass eyes. They scattered across the floor of the cart. When she tripped on one, pinwheeling into Nicholina, Beau caught her arm. She tried to tug it away. “Don’t touch me. I’m fine.” She slipped on another eye, kicking it viciously in response. “I said I’m fine.”
His face fell at her outburst, and he scowled, releasing her. “Say it one more time.” When she stumbled away, nearly upsetting another basket, he shook his head. “Maybe I’ll believe you.”
She watche
d him stalk from the cart with overbright eyes, her arms wrapped tight around her middle. Her shoulders hunched. As if their kiss had inflicted a physical wound. I looked away quickly when her gaze caught mine. “Don’t say a word,” she snapped, storming past me into the street. She didn’t follow Beau.
“Ah, l’amour.” Madame Sauvage stared after them with a wistful expression. “I told you the truth would out.” When she clapped her hands together once more, turning the full force of her gaze onto me, I recoiled. “Now. It is your turn, young man. Hold out your hand, please.”
“I would . . . rather not,” I said dubiously.
“Nonsense. You want your pearl, don’t you?”
I glanced after Beau and Coco. “That depends.”
But it didn’t, not really, and we both knew it. Swallowing hard, I extended a hand toward her. To my surprise, she withdrew a small pouch from her sleeve and upended its contents in my palm. Célie inched closer, tilting her head. “Seeds?” she asked in confusion.
And so they were.
Madame Sauvage closed my fingers around them with a pleasant smile. “Just so. Your task is simple, dear boy: plant them.”
I frowned down at the mundane things. “Plant them?”
Madame Sauvage turned to bustle around her cart, returning items to their proper places. “What else does one do with seeds?”
“I—” Shaking my head, I stuffed them back in their pouch. “What are they?” Stupid question. I tried again. “Where—where do you want me to plant them? When?”
“Those decisions are up to you.”
When I cast Célie an incredulous glance, she shrugged, gesturing first to the pearls, then to the street. I swept the black gems into the pouch with the seeds. Madame Sauvage didn’t stop me, instead plucking a live mouse from her sleeve and dropping it into the snake’s reservoir. She cooed at the snake as it uncoiled. Like a mother with her babe. Célie gestured to the street again. Wilder this time. Emphatic.
But it didn’t feel right to just leave. And Nicholina—she still stood silent and rooted. Clearly Madame Sauvage wasn’t a simple peddler. “Why are you here, Madame Sauvage? How did you—how did you find us?”
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