The dark market never changed. Even after sixty years, the rickety stalls seemed apt to blow over at a breath, and the sun unable to penetrate the dark shroud.
Penelope halted at the edge of the alleyway. Jack’s voice echoed in her head––“I want an orb!”––and her staunch response––
The crunchy bitterness of the riptalion leaf takes a slight edge off my craving. Grasping my swollen stomach, shoulders hunched, I glance back toward the castle, pushing strands of golden hair out of my face. Here in our private garden, my husband and I grow the dark green, large-leafed lettuce
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Pale dawn light slanted through the windows when I arrived at the Full Moon Diner. Even this early, the place smelled like stale grease and burnt coffee.
Only four tables were occupied. An old man sitting in one corner, his face haggard. A young couple holding hands. A neat-haired man reading a thick book
Cool water rushed down Prince Edward Mackivoy’s throat, instantly reviving his parched mouth and spirits. It had taken him a week to cross the desert, and he had run out of water two days ago.
Grit still clung to the roof of his mouth, so Edward stuck his face back in the meadow stream
Apparently, poison tasted like cake. The M.A’s—aka Master Assassin’s—butler hovered over my shoulder as I stared down at the remaining crumbs. After I enjoyed every bite of the slice of cake, the butler victoriously announced he’d poisoned it.
What an idiot, a shrill airy voice whispered straight into my mind.
“I’m going to be eaten!”
A frenzied shoulder shake jolted me from sleep. I sat up suddenly, wincing as the baby in my belly gave a swift, protesting kick. My niece, Cha-mi, stared at me with wide eyes.
“Eaten?” I sputtered. “What are you talking about?”
Her eyes welled.
“These are the practices we must observe,” Master Yvear said. “Neglect them, and we neglect life itself.”
“Yes, master,” Ranghur said dutifully for the thousandth time.
Or he supposed it was that much. He had been apprenticed to the temple on his seventh birthday, now over three years ago, and he could do the sums.
Deep within Midre Forest, the ghosts waited. Renard clutched a box of croissants to his chest. “Food is the way to the heart,” he muttered. Hopefully the saying applied to vengeful ghosts.
Because bringing food into the Flickers’ domain, especially after how they’d died… He shuddered. If the Flickers caught him before daylight, he’d be dead.
“Seriously? That’s what you’re gifting me?” I rolled my eyes at Amelia.
“What do you mean? It’s a good gift. It’ll keep you alive, right? So we can stay friends. I was worried being a fairy would change things, but if I’m your fairy…”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. It’s just not what I was expecting.”
Jack tore into the roasted chicken thigh, the heat of his anger suffusing with the warm tingling of his mother’s herb blend. The flavors of rosemary and thyme soothed him, their homey familiarity pushing against the sting of resentment.
He crunched down on a bone and spat it onto the ground.
Jane’s stomach tightened as she neared the door. She paused to adjust her glasses. “Sal, are you sure a human is okay at a xaether’s party? I don’t want to mess anything up.”
Sal pulled her through the entryway. “Don’t worry. You’re hardly one to cause a stir. Plus, xaethers are a couple millennia old.
“Is that a taikina?” Seana faces me, shoulders squared.
I drop the pastry, sending sliced nuts and golden berries across the silver tablecloth. “Um.”
Behind my sister, faeries and pixies continue dancing. Dust scatters off the pixies’ wings. Not fair. The pixie dust in their dishes makes faerie food taste like dirt.
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