If Benedict felt the same things she did, he didn’t show it as he took the other green coat, tucking the two books into a pocket.
“Between your readings, please linger in the Market’s square in case anyone has any questions.” Head Librarian Marco glanced between them. “Represent the Court of Knowledge and the Great Library with all dignity and compassion.”
Beatrice bit her tongue before she said something about how she was more than willing to do so. It was Benedict’s ability to do the same that she doubted, despite his strange change of heart lately.
Benedict gave a smooth, courtly bow. “Of course, we will strive to do so.”
Head Librarian Marco nodded and waved his dismissal. “Get some rest tonight. You both will have a long day tomorrow.”
A day which would be made all the longer because she’d been assigned to work with Benedict. She couldn’t seem to get away from him at the moment.
Beatrice huggedher arms over her stomach while she waited in front of Munch and Brigid’s House for her brother-in-law to finish kissing her sister. Not that she minded that they were in love, and she rather liked having nieces and, hopefully someday, nephews. But witnessing the kissing got a little uncomfortable.
Another reason to snag the assistant librarian position and get her own place. More privacy for her and for her siblings.
She ran her fingers over the green librarian coat she wore. She looked rather good in green. If only she didn’t have to give the coat back after the time in the Market.
Finally, Beatrice heard low voices, and she dared peek at the whisper of boots on the stone threshold.
Munch turned away from Brigid, adjusting his bow on his back. His grin still held that faintly moon-eyed vagueness as he faced Beatrice. “Ready to head for the Market?”
“Yep.” Beatrice waved to Brigid before her sister closed the door of the House. Beatrice shot a look at Munch before lowering her voice. “Are you oncertainbusiness while at the Market?”
Even with no one around, she didn’t dare sayPrimrosealoud while on a public street. One never knew when a pixie might be hiding in the flowers or a sprite among the foliage. Only in their private Houses, in the king’s personal study, or a few designated places in the Library could they speak about the Primrose openly.
“Yes.” Munch set out at a brisk walk down the street, his long stride eating up the distance so that Beatrice had to trot to keep up. He slowed and glanced at her. “But don’t worry. I’ll staynearby in case you need me. This is more a…scouting trip, if you know what I mean.”
Beatrice nodded. Munch would patrol the Market, looking for humans who needed rescue. He and Brigid might set out to rescue a few while they were here in the Market. For others, he’d find out where they were headed, and he and Brigid would arrange for someone else in the Primrose League to handle the actual rescue. By this point, Brigid had members of the Primrose League scattered throughout the Fae Realm, and the network was continually growing.
Beatrice and Munch strolled farther into the village, joining the main road that meandered from the castle outward. Unlike her peaceful walk over a week ago, the village now bustled with fae of all shapes and kinds, from blue- or green-skinned sprites to the towering dryads with leaves trailing from their hair. Many of them meandered in the direction of the broad, grassy area between the village and the edge of the Tanglewood where the Faerie Market now sprawled in a chaos of tents and booths.
This Faerie Market filled the meadow nearly all the way to the edge of the forest, the largest Market Beatrice had ever seen camped within the Court of Knowledge. Only small borders of grass provided some separation to delineate the boundaries of Market and village. Raucous music and a cacophony of voices rent the air of what was usually a peaceful glade.
“There you are.” Benedict’s voice had her halting and turning, despite herself. He jogged up to them, falling into step on her open side with a smirk.
Munch shot Benedict a searching, distrustful look, but his nod and his tone were welcoming. “Benedict.”
“Mungoe.” With that grin, it was hard to tell if Benedict had used Munch’s full name out of respect or because he was mocking him.
Beatrice tried to tell herself that Benedict didn’t look dashing in the green assistant librarian coat. Surely she wasn’t noticing the way his golden hair fell around his face nor the dancing light to his clear blue eyes.
As she, Munch, and Benedict stepped into the bounds of the Market, the very air seemed to change, becoming charged and rousing, the floral scent replaced with the smells of spices and foods and bodies packed into a small space.
Some of the fae wore elaborate silks and tunics, a show of their noble status. Others had leather and armor with swords, daggers, axes, and all sorts of other weapons strapped to their persons. Still more were draped in oddities, such as flower petals or the gossamer threads of spider silk.
Stranger than the fae were the items at the various booths and tents. One booth had shriveled heads that moved and talked. Another had dolls that moved about on their own. Eyeballs in jars watched the passersby while glass butterflies fluttered around glass flowers.
Almost involuntarily, she edged closer to Munch as the crowds of fae pressed around them. Even Benedict seemed to guard her other side, preventing her from being jostled by the surrounding fae. She didn’t want to get separated from them and find herself lost in this crowd. While she had some protection as a human bound to a fae court, she was still more vulnerable than Benedict since she was a human. Munch, too, was human, but his bow and his iron-tipped arrows provided him with plenty of protection.
Eventually, they worked their way toward the main square set within the higgledy-piggledy, meandering paths that formed the Faerie Market. Because of course the fae wouldn’t set up their market with neat rows of booths, wagons, and tents. No, they couldn’t have made it more chaotically maze-like if they’d tried.
The square was carved out of the packed booths, complete with a small stage and logs set before it in haphazard rows as seating. Already, a raucous crowd of fae had taken seats on the benches, hooting and hollering at the two fae on stage. One was juggling knives, but the other appeared to be juggling severed heads.
Munch swept a glance over the crowd before he turned to Beatrice. “Will you be all right if I leave you here?”
“Of course.” Beatrice kept her chin high. She wasn’t going to flinch before the gruesome sight on stage nor the boisterously bloodthirsty audience.
“I will protect her.”
