As the music enfolded her, Calisa drifted closer to the harpist. She didn’t even notice her feet moving—the melody pulled her. Vaguely, she noticed others drawn closer too. Beside her, Jack was just as enraptured.
The harpist herself was as lovely as her melodies. In her hair, she wore braided flowers that bloomed from buds while she played a rising arpeggio and then closed their petals when the melody fell. Calisa noticed that her ears formed delicate points.
“We need to talk to Rin,” Jack said to Calisa. But he didn’t move.
“One minute.” Shifting to view the potions as an excuse to keep listening, Calisa studied the colorful glass bottles. Each was tiny, holding no more than a few drops of whatever was inside. “What are these?” she asked the vendor, a man in all purple with a matching purple beard. His eyes, she noticed, were black. No white around an iris. Just all black.
He pointed to one bottle with a slender finger, his nail tipped with a diamond. “This one holds sadness.” Another. “Joy.” Another. “Regret.” He picked up one and spun it so the colored glass sparkled as it caught the moonlight. “This is the distilled essence of the moment a mother sees her child for the very first time.” He placed it down carefully and lifted another. “And this is the flush of first love.”
“You’re selling emotions?” Calisa asked. She wanted to ask how that was possible. Also, what were you supposed to do with it? She studied the bottle of first love. “Is this, like, a love potion? If you want someone to love you?”
He blanched. “Never!”
The harpist paused, her fingers raised over the strings, and the music instantly vanished, like a stolen breath. Calisa felt an ache, as if she’d misplaced something important.
Jack jumped in quickly. “We didn’t mean any offense.”
“Our potions would never control another,” the vendor said indignantly. “No, these are for communication. They are for understanding. For empathy. Choose the one that matches your emotion, and when your loved one drinks it, they will know how you feel on a visceral level.”
Wow, that was…She didn’t know what that was.
She thought of Mulligan. It was his idea to bring two slices of chocolate cake. Could he add this potion to his hot chocolate? “How about one that captures how much you miss someone?”
“Ah, yes, a variation on regret with a strong dollop of hope and longing.” His fingers danced above the bottles until he selected one in purple glass. “You’ll want this one. Be warned: it’s very strong and can momentarily overwhelm all else.”
“It’s perfect.”
“For payment…” the vendor began.
Calisa turned to Jack. “You said we had a spare slice?”
Jack opened his backpack. “We offer this as payment,” he said solemnly. With a flourish, he lifted the lid on the Tupperware, and the thick, sweet smell of chocolate waftedout.
Both the vendor and the musician ogled the cake. “Done,” the vendor said swiftly. He smiled as he wrapped the vial in a bit of fabric and tied a ribbon around it.
Calisa pocketed the vial, while Jack handed over the slice of chocolate cake. The vendor breathed it in and sighed happily, and the harpist leaned over to ask for a taste.
Moving on, Calisa and Jack soon reached the fifth row.
As they approached the baker’s stall, Rin called to them, “My friends from Auntie Zee! What a delight to see you, atimely delight!” Standing beside him were two women, both drenched in jewels. Calisa and Jack trotted over.
Calisa’s first thought was:They have news of Auntie Zee!
Her second thought was:They’re not human.
Smiling widely, Rin boomed, “Calisa, Jack, it’s my honor to introduce you to the queens of Irisday. Your Majesties, these are the representatives of the charming bed-and-breakfast that I was telling you about.”
Queens?
Calisa stared at them.
Both were thin and tall, but in a stretched way—their faces, their necks, their arms all looked too long, and their eyes were too wide and glowed a radioactive green. Their ears tapered into points, like the harpist’s, but on them, it looked unnatural. Everything about them was unsettling, especially the way they were staring at Calisa and Jack.
“Fae,” Jack breathed beside her. “Be careful.”
Calisa wasn’t sure if she was supposed to bow, curtsy, or shake hands. She settled for an awkward bow with a smile and hoped she hadn’t offended the clearly not-human women. The portal magic ensured there wouldn’t be a language problem, but it didn’t translate customs. Or deliver warnings.
The two fae queens inclined their heads, which was a good sign. She hadn’t offended them yet. Both were coated in makeup—the woman on the left had blue paint streaked on her cheeks with black kohl around her eyes, while the woman on the right was painted bronze. The blue queen wore silver roped necklaces with amber pendants around her neck and acrown of amber on her head that held a silk veil in place over her hair. The bronze queen was swathed in black from her neck to her ankles. Both were works of art.
