“Exactly. He’sBasil.” The curve of a smile broke through some of her pensive expression. “Instead of cruelty, he gave her love, a marriage, and a home. Not just for her but for all of us. We were on the verge of being sold into the Human Realm’s version of fae captivity, and then the next thing we knew we were brought into the wonder of the Great Library. It was the purest magic.”
He could imagine how that must have felt for young Beatrice, going from terror and poverty in the Human Realm to the beauty and safety of the Great Library.
A stab of pain filled him, making him edge slightly away from her. Thanks to him, her first days in the Fae Realm hadn’t been completely free of fae cruelty. Yes, he had been encouraged by his parents and older brother, but the actions, and thus the responsibility, had been his.
“I hate to see the place I love so much tainted by such evil.” Beatrice finally turned her gaze to him, pain lingering in the depths of her eyes. “It makes the good fae like King Theseus, Queen Hippolyta, Basil, and so many others stand out all the more.”
“Like the Wild Fae Primrose?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, her expression shuttered before she turned away from him. “Yes, like him.”
Benedict wanted to reassure her that he approved of the Wild Fae Primrose’s work.
But he couldn’t. Doing so would jeopardize everything.
Instead, he reached into a pocket of the green librarian coat he currently wore and pulled out two slim volumes. “Here. We probably should fight our way back into the crowd for another turn on the stage.”
Beatrice took the book, then scowled at him, the fire returning to her eyes. “You had this the whole time. Why torture both of us with that other book?”
Why, indeed? He smirked as he strolled past her, hoping she couldn’t read the edge of regret in his expression. Torture had been right, though likely not the kind of torture she’d meant.
After two more turns onthe stage—and a few rotten fruits tossed their way at the tameness of their reading—Benedict led the way into the press of the crowd once again until he found a somewhat clear section of grass. “I’m ready for a break. And some food. What about you?”
“Yes to both.” Beatrice swiped a rag over her face before she turned to him. “Did I get it all?”
“You have a little…” Benedict pointed, resisting the urge to take the rag and wipe the dribble of purple juice from her face himself.
Beatrice’s cheeks colored pink before she shook herself and followed his pointing finger to scrub the side of her forehead. “Is that better?”
He cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes.” Forcing himself to turn away, he gestured at the alley ahead of them. “Shall we? Are you craving anything in particular?”
“No. I’ll just try whatever smells and looks good.” Beatrice fell into step with him as they worked their way through the bustle of the various alleys and meandering aisles between the Market booths, carts, and tables. At least Beatrice’s earlier pique and pensiveness had disappeared into her usual cheerfulness once again.
“I see. The Market tells you what you’re craving.” Benedict grinned at her before he side-stepped to avoid a tall dryad striding in the other direction.
“Exactly.” Beatrice smiled back for a moment before she seemed to remember what she was doing. Her smile dropped, and she faced forward once again.
They halted by some of the food booths and tested out a few things. Each time, Benedict eyed the food, making sure it was safe for a human to eat. Here in the Faerie Market, the normal safety provided by the House and the Court didn’t apply, and it would be too easy for Beatrice to accidentally eat something that would poison her.
Partway down the next path, Beatrice halted and sniffed. “Hmm. That smells really good.”
“I think it’s coming from that booth.” Benedict pointed across the way. This particular booth was larger than most, almost a small tavern with an open area packed with tables beneath a roof supported on posts. Fae mobbed the tables andthe area beneath the roof, creating such a crush that he couldn’t even see the food at the front.
Beatrice grimaced and shook her head. “I don’t relish trying to force our way in there.”
“Stay here. I’ll get some of whatever that is for both of us.” Benedict plunged into the fray, shoving his way past dryads and goblins and sprites. Finally, he reached the front, where a man and woman manned a countertop that was piled high with various baked goods, including pies, cakes, cookies, sticky buns, and more.
What would Beatrice want? He tried to remember all the times he’d seen her eat sweets. Not a pie or a cake. He’d grab a couple of the cookies, the sticky buns, a few scones, and a couple of other desserts that looked good. He’d simply store the extra in a coat pocket to pull out at random times while they were working in the Library.
That thought made him smile as he pointed out the various items. The demanded bargain didn’t cost him much—only a few random odds and ends from his pockets—and he stowed the baked goods in his pocket as the woman handed them over. In this crowd, he’d never make it back to Beatrice without getting them squashed or knocked from his grip and trampled if he didn’t stash them safely away.
As he shoved the last cookie into his pocket, a scream pierced the general hubbub of the Market.
Beatrice. How he knew with such certainty that it was her, he didn’t know.
He whirled and ran straight into someone else standing there. He shoved that other fae aside, earning him a grumble and protest in return. He didn’t slow to apologize as another scream rang out above the chaos.
His heart hammered as he shoved, clawed, wrestled, and lunged his way through the press of fae. He never should haveleft Beatrice alone. He’d known the danger she’d be in as a human alone in a Faerie Market.
