“I hope you have what you need, Ms. Larkspur,” Saul says, “because we’ve been strongly encouraged to leave the premises.”
I nod breathlessly, and we head for the car. My ankle is throbbing, and I have a stitch in my side that makes it hard to breathe.
Once we’re inside, I tell Saul what happened. “How was I supposed to know that gum wasn’t an appropriate offering?”
Saul hands me the flyer and points at an asterisk at the bottom of the page.
It simply saysNo Gum.
ChapterEight
“Ineed you to take me directly to Godmother’s,” I tell Saul. I’ve thought about what to do from the moment we left Ashgate. I can’t leave River in there. Not for another hour, let alone another day. It will break him. He’s too good a friend. “It’s important.”
“Seven’s orders are to take you directly back to his place to debrief.” Saul keeps his eyes on the road as he answers me in a tone that’s not exactly dismissive but holds a note of resolve, as if the decision is out of his hands.
“Do you need me to call him and have him tell you it’s an emergency?” I sit up straighter. “Every minute I don’t speak to Godmother is an extra minute that River stays locked up in that hellhole, and let me tell you, Saul, it is the very definition of hell.”
His eyes slide to me and then he pulls his phone from his pocket. His thumb flies over the screen while his eyes remain on the road. I’d chastise him to not text and drive, but he’s a leprechaun. The chances of us getting into an accident are almost zilch.
His phone dings. Dipping his gaze to the screen for a split second, he frowns. “He says he’ll meet us at Godmother’s.”
I smile smugly and lean back in my seat. Seven trusts me. We’ve been there for each other since we were children, aside from the time I spent in America, and that was because of his megalomaniac father. I know he’s got my back.
At my direction, Saul drops me off under the Wonderland Security office before parking, and I beat feet to Godmother’s Tearoom, giving me a few minutes head start ahead of both Saul and Seven. I’m going to need it. A few human patrons are having tea in the gingerbread dining room, but a word with the host and I’m escorted into Godmother’s backroom office. To my surprise, it’s light and airy, all white wood and delicate furniture. Fuzzy pink throw pillows decorate the white turned-leg sofa. A shiny gold paperweight on her desk readsBoss.
“Sophia Larkspur, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Her deep voice resonates between us, and then her gaze locks on the coin at the base of my throat. Her eyes narrow slightly, but if there’s a question in her gaze, she doesn’t voice it.
I pretend I don’t notice her interest in Seven’s gift to me and jump into why I’m here. “River Foxwood is innocent. You have to let him out of Ashgate.”
She braids her fingers together and rests her chin on them. “No. I don’t have to do anything, Sophia.” She points at theBosssign on her desk, but her gaze shifts back to me.
“Why are your arms all scraped up?”
“I had a run-in with one of the guards at Ashgate.”
“Why?”
“Someone tampered with the video surveillance.”
“Seven informed me.”
“River did not murder that man. The only reason he was covered in the victim’s blood is he was trying to help him. The man had already been shot by the time River came upon him outside his restaurant. No witnesses saw what happened because someone used luck to clear the area—likely a leprechaun. You saw that on the video. Who else would be strong enough to do that?”
She drums her fingers on her desk. “Just because a leprechaun cleared the area does not mean they committed the murder. What proof do you have that River didn’t do it?”
“I don’t need proof.” I take a deep breath. “Patrick was with him. He didn’t leave his side until he heard the man scream.”
Godmother sneers. I can almost feel her scanning me like some sort of lie detector, but I hold my ground, making my expression at once genuine while also showing a hint of shame.
“If that’s true, why didn’t River mention it?”
“Everything was too… public. Patrick’s being with River that morning was a secret because they were discussing something private.” I lower my chin. “You see, the only reason that I know about it is because I was with the two of them the night before. But neither of them will be able to tell you it was me specifically. They bargained with me and promised discretion. After everything that’s happened since I’ve been back, I needed it. But it was me who asked Patrick to speak to River, to tell him I was breaking off the affair. That’s how I know they were together at that time. I visited Ashgate and River so he could release me from our bargain and I could speak to you about it.”
Godmother leans back in her chair and studies me. I get the sense she knows I’m lying, although I’m doing my best to make it believable. Ancient magic nudges me, attempting to taste the lie in whatever I’m made of, or maybe that’s just my nerves. She rings a bell on her desk, and a hidden door opens at the back of the room. A redheaded pixie I’ve never met runs in. Godmother whispers in her ear, and she scampers off again.
“This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Sophia,” Godmother says softly, only for my ears. “I could give you something to force the truth from you.”
A chill runs through me. “You could. I’m sensing you won’t.”
