“They’ll rot your teeth.”
I rolled my eyes. “Who cares? My soul is already rotten, what’s a little more?” I tugged him gently, and he offered no resistance, a tender smile widening under the ever-lengthening beard. “Besides, it reminds you of your childhood and me of more interesting times.”
We paused in front of the delicious array of sweets, the scent of warm sugar drenching us.
“With a man?” he asked.
I grinned and turned away, my hand hovering over the crinkled white bags.
“I seem to remember that it was toffees you simply couldn’t resist.” Candyman plucked a bag from the pile, tossing the top cube into his mouth. He winked at me. “On the house, Tam.”
I pretended to fan myself, dabbing at my cheeks and chest.
“Have you slept with everyone in the queendom?” Clement hissed in my ear.
“Oh, don’t pretend like you haven’t.” I blew a kiss at Candyman and turned, stuffing toffee into my mouth. I offered him the bag as we walked back, and he gingerly took one, eyes narrowed. “I know firsthand that you have a filthy, filthy mouth, my friend.”
He choked on the toffee, spots of color darkening his cheeks.
I pressed my hand to his mouth. “Don’t apologize.” I ran a finger over the contour of his lower lip, mopping up a line of burned sugar. “I can’t stop thinking about it.” I sucked my finger, the trace of toffee and him dancing on my tastebuds. I held his gaze and watched it heat as he closed the gap between us, his face lowering.
Bryn cleared her throat, elbowing Clement for good measure. Reluctantly, he straightened and took up his usual position, hand resting on the sparkling hilt of his saber.
Lilyanna rose from the bench in front of the tarot reader, and I swooped, linking her arm and whisking her off down the aisle.
“What did she say?” I asked.
“That my path was complicated and dangerous. That there were other ways to achieve my goals.” I grinned at her, and she bumped me with her hip. “Stop it, Tam. I know your opinion.”
“No, no. Tarot, I believe. Well,” I popped another toffee in my mouth and rattled it around my teeth as I spoke. “I believe in most of these so-called omens actually. You’ve enlightened me as to the ways of the North.”
She laughed. “I don’t believe you.”
“It's true.” I emptied the rest of the bag into my mouth, humming with pleasure as the caramel and treacle melted on my tongue. “The bad ones, I believe straight away.”
“You only believe in it if it suits your purpose.”
“True, my friend. Very true.” I steered her to an open patch behind the main line of stalls. “There’s a wonderful fire show down here. Marianne is an old friend of mine and if you want, we can be part of her performance.”
To her credit, she didn’t balk at the idea until we stood in the center of a worn patch of grass with unlit tiki torches carved with ogres, dragons, and witches leering at us from every angle. “I feel like we’re in a cult circle,” she whispered. “Is this safe?”
I shrugged. “I’ve never actually been part of this act before. Although I used to feel the scorch of the flames from way down there.”
She swallowed and gathered her long jade skirt, cinching it tight around her legs.
“But when the fire starts, it’ll be safe to talk.”
Marianne addressed the crowd gathering in front of us, dropping into an exaggerated bow for the prince. Clement stood behind him with arms crossed and a scowl etched onto his face as he stared at me. How did he always know what I was planning? My lips curved at the sight of him.
“What you’re about to see is of course dangerous, exciting, and completely fucking reckless.” Marianne grinned, shooting two fireballs from her outstretched palms. They roared over the crowd and circled like boomerangs, trailing sparks and crackling like lightning.
“I wonder who paints the flame-retardant herbs onto her hair when I’m not around,” I said. Marianne liked to style red and yellow spikes atop her head, shaving the sides for a more dramatic appearance.
“I’m more worried about her puffy sleeves,” Lilyanna replied.
Marianne waved her hands, silencing the crowd. She produced a small onyx box from her pocket. Carefully, as if it would detonate any second, she rested it in the center of her cupped hands and blew. A sharp gust of wind blazed through the clearing, ruffling the crowd’s hair and billowing Marianne’s flared trousers like sails.
A small sphere of fire ignited in her outstretched palms, and she tossed it into the air, a mighty golden dragon unfurling with a bang. It opened its wings, beating the air, causing the wooden signs of the local stalls to swing and creak wildly.
