The carriage ground to a halt before her friend’s house. The coachman ran around and opened the door to help her out.
“You are your father’s legacy,” Pena whispered as the door closed after her.
She watched them bump into the distance as a new door creaked open.
“I’d invite you in, but I know this is not actually where you want to be.” Rebecca’s tone was slightly caustic, but her expression was bemused.
“No,” she admitted with a slightly sheepish sigh. “But I should be here, and you’re supposed to prevent me from—”
“I know what you want me to do.” Her friend gave her a small, playful shove. “And if I thought you weren’t going to just go there afterward, probably when it is too dark for you to be poking about in these parts alone, I’d take you inside. But given the hour, and the fact my mother and I have work, I’m just going to send you on your way, with this.” Reaching behind her, she pulled out a small pouch and shoved it in Isabelle’s direction.
“What is this?” she asked, turning it over in her hands in confusion.
“Something you will need, especially if you marry, but it can be used before.” Rebecca gave her a long meaningful stare, as if Isabelle didn’t get her meaning. As if they hadn’t had this conversation in the past.
Mercy. Yes, she was grateful for the sponge, but she’d come for assistance in doing what she was supposed to and not . . . what she was going to actually do.
“Thank you,” she stammered, not quite meeting her friend’s eye, as the other woman gave her a quick hug before retreating into her home.
Not daring to look inside the package, Isabelle turned away from Rebecca’s door and strode as fast as she could toward the Great Synagogue.
However, now her pace slowed as she made her way around to the back of the building, kicking loose stones into puddles with her new white boots.
Which was ridiculous. And not just because it endangered the pristine state of her garments. But because it was almost as if she was, well, nervous.
And that was ludicrous. Aaron was the least fearsome person she’d ever met. That was why she was so comfortable with him. Not that she needed comfort. She just wanted to say hello, be friendly. That was all. Nothing more.
And yet here she was, stalling.
Which would not do. She was an adult. Clutching her chain purse to her side, she forced up her chin and strode toward his door.
“And the cat asked the ogre to transform into a . . . Who remembers?” A familiar voice floated around the corner.
“A tiger?” was the high-pitched response of an unseen child.
“A dragon?” another equally young hidden companion suggested as she crept closer along the side of the building, and a small group came into view. An echo of the first time she’d seem him. The first time they’d met.
Before her, right outside the synagogue door, was a circle of small boys sitting cross-legged on the cobblestones. Aaron was at the center, perched on a crate, a calico cat on his lap. No one noticed her, save the creature, who gave a look of distain as the man she sought scratched behind its ears.
Lucky beast.
“No—I know.” A small bespectacled boy piped up, raising his hand and drawing her attention back. “A lion.”
“That’s right.” Aaron reached out and gave the boy’s head a tousle behind his yarmulke. He turned back to the group, his lip twitching. “And the lion frightens our hero so much he was shaking in his boots.”
“Poor, poor cat,” another boy said, reaching out and giving the creature on Aaron’s lap a gentle pat, which the feline grudgingly accepted.
“And then what happened?” the first boy asked. “How did he escape?”
“Well,” Aaron said, glancing from side to side as if he were telling them a secret. “He summoned all his courage and asked the ogre to transform again. Just one more time.”
Isabelle’s lip twitched. He really was enthralling.
“But why? What would that do? Or more, how could that help him escape the magical ogre?” the spectacled boy asked, his hand raised once more.
Aaron scooted forward on the crate. “Those are good questions. But you’re missing a key fact. His plan, you see, turned on the creature he requested. Can anyone guess what it was?” he asked as Isabelle stepped closer, somehow unable to stop her feet from moving toward him.
“A dragon?” a child called out.
