‘Yes, of course,’ Haru sputtered, pinching Deeba’s cheek. He cleared his throat. ‘What can I get for you? The usual? I’ve just finished baking a fresh loaf of pumpkin bread, Lu.’
Lu?Bisma thought to herself.
Luna looked equally surprised by the affectionate nickname and doubly pleased.
‘Oh, that soundsdivine!’ she squealed. She approached the counter, setting her elbows upon them to lean her face on her chin. Haru leaned forward across the counter as well, beaming at her.
There was a streak of sugar on his cheek, and Luna reached across to wipe it away, hand lingering.
Oh good god…
Bisma cleared her throat. She could not say she was enjoying witnessing her younger sister flirt with her crush. ‘I’m going to go,’ she said, approaching the counter. She deposited Deeba between Haru and Luna on the counter, and Deeba clapped her chubby hands in excitement when he picked her up.
Bisma gave Luna a sisterly warning glance, which only earned her a roll of Luna’s eyes in response, but Bisma wasn’t worried. Haru was genuine, and Luna wasn’t stupid; she would be alright.
‘Watch Deebs,’ Bisma ordered. Luna hardly spared Bisma a glance; she was busy gazing at Haru. Deeba was currentlysnuggled against his chest, holding tight to his shirt with her little fists.
‘Don’t worry, we will,’ Haru said, giving Bisma a winning smile. Even her cold, shriveled heart warmed at that.
‘And make sure you go to the butcher’s,’ Bisma reminded Luna. ‘You have the money I gave you, don’t you?’
They got meat from the butcher in town because none of the girls wanted to slaughter their own animals; the younger ones would be traumatized if their best friends (the goats and chickens) were being butchered every week.
‘Yes, yes, I have it,’ Luna said, waving a hand absentmindedly. Clearly she was too preoccupied with batting her lashes at Haru to give Bisma any attention.
‘I’m about to go on my break so I can help,’ Haru offered, eyes kind.
‘By all means,’ Bisma said, taking her leave.
The poisons were in a basket on the crook of her arm, hidden beneath a plaid cloth. Even though Bisma herself was infamous, she hid the poisons for the sake of those buying them; they could not be seen doing business with her. Which was why, as the sun moved across the sky, she went to various previously agreed upon locations outside the square, finding gaps between rocks or hidden alcoves where money lay waiting for her. Each client had their own distinct drop spot.
After Bisma finished her deliveries and collected her money, she went to the final secret stop, which was for new customers to leave order requests; they either left the requests here or at the edge of the Enchanted Forest. This location on the outskirts of the town square could only be learned by word of mouth.
Thankfully, when she arrived, she saw a handful of new orders. She would need them.
Most of these would go to paying Xander, and she’d already given a chunk of money to Luna for the butcher, not to mentionthat Bisma still had errands to run: Azalea wanted new yarn to knit Deeba a sweater, Nori wanted paint, and Mei had sent an entire grocery list of ingredients.
While they grew most of their fruit, vegetables, and herbs in the Forest, some seasonings and ingredients could only be acquired from town. So, with a deep breath, Bisma headed back to the town square.
Now that it was late afternoon, many people were done with their work for the day and were getting their shopping done before heading home for the evening. More than once, Bisma had to push her way through a crowd, and there was quite a large line at the cheese stall, which she would have avoided entirely because of its strong smells had Mei not made a specific request.
Bisma wondered how long Old Town could last like this. It had been getting increasingly crowded over the past year and did not look to be slowing down any time soon. But she was glad for the busyness as it meant there was less focus on her. She could slither in and out without being noticed.
Or so she thought.
After Bisma had bought the paint for Nori and was exiting the art shop, she saw something hurtling toward her from the corner of her eye. She moved aside at the last moment, but rotten fruit splashed across her shoes and legs.
Heart hammering, she looked up to find an older man glaring at her. She did not know him, but he shook his head with disdain, muttering, ‘Filthy Unwanted Witch.’
An acidic feeling spread through her, equal parts fear and rage. She should have just moved on, but the rage took over. Instead, she hissed at him, baring her teeth.
Anger flared across his face, and he approached, spitting at her just as she felt an arm pull her back.
Bisma turned. It was Razan Al-Mansour, the bookshop owner. She was a kind, middle-aged woman with dense black curls and olive-colored skin.
‘That’s enough now!’ Razan snapped at the old man. ‘Be on your way.’
He huffed and puffed, but waved a hand, leaving them.
