Briar Queen_ A Night and Nothing Novel - Katherine Harbour Page 0,63
noticed the darkness stretching from the toes of her Doc Martens to the nearest lamp. She glanced up and around at the Fatas, none of whom had shadows. She swore softly.
As Jack and Moth steered her among pavilions less well lit, Jack said, “This’ll sound like odd advice—but don’t touch your dagger or any weapon unless you need to. Contact with weapons invites violence, in this place.”
Finn slid her hand from the silver dagger in her coat as Jack gently tugged her toward a ribboned pavilion that stood beneath a birch tree strung with blue lanterns. A young black man sat on a thronelike chair beneath it, surrounded by a collection of ornamental bottles in jeweled hues. As Jack, Finn, and Moth approached, he leaned forward. Jack drew back his hood and the black youth said in a jovial tone, “Jack Daw. Where have you been? And who are your charming companions?”
“I’ve been elsewhere. And let’s call my companions Kate and John. Kate and John, this is Teig Lark—alchemist, moonshiner, and medicine man.”
“Also, poisoner.” Teig Lark’s smile glittered. His snow-bright hair hung in thick braids. He wore white jeans and rings on his bare toes. “But not so much now that monarchy is dead. So, Jack, are you here to trade for something? Apple Love perfume for your lady? A DragonSteel potion to fight an enemy?”
“The elixir.”
Teig Lark’s smile vanished. “Then I shall need to speak with you privately.”
“No. She doesn’t leave my—”
“Jack.” Teig Lark became somber. “I deal in secrets. You don’t want some of the things you know to reach other ears. I’ll leave the flap open, and you’ll be able to see your companions.” He rose and slipped into the pavilion.
“And just what kind of secrets aren’t we supposed to know?” Moth demanded.
“If I told you, they wouldn’t be secrets.” Jack ducked into the star-patterned pavilion and he and Teig Lark began speaking in low voices, Jack keeping his gaze on Finn.
Moth slouched against the birch. Finn sank to the ground beneath it, rummaging in her backpack for a Slim Jim and a can of espresso. “Do you want some?”
Moth looked disdainful. “No.”
“Moth . . . that fruit, back there—”
“That was goblin fruit—spells encased in things made to look like fruit. Those Fata men would have gotten more from you than teeth or blood or a kiss.” He looked impatient. “I believe there’s a poem about goblin fruit. Haven’t you read it?”
“Maybe. Get some food.” She gestured to the fair and decided she wouldn’t be sampling any fruit here. “You’re a changeling, so you can eat, right? I can hear your stomach growling and you’re getting grouchy.”
“There’s a girl selling soup—” He nodded to a Fata girl spooning soup into wooden bowls. Dressed in striped tights and an Elizabethan corset, she looked like she belonged in a modern Shakespeare play.
“What will she ask for?”
“I suppose I shall find out.” Since Moth rarely smiled, it was startling when he did. He called out, “Hey! Soup Girl!”
Incredibly, the soup girl answered this uncivilized summons and sauntered over. She looked Moth up and down, from his tousled pewter hair, to his battered boots. “And what would you like?”
“How much for—”
The Fata girl stepped forward and kissed him. As light and shadow rayed out around him, Finn jumped up, grabbed her backpack, and swung it at the Fata girl.
Someone blew shimmering pollen into Finn’s face. She inhaled, stumbled back, and raised an arm to shield herself.
“JACK.” TEIG LARK SPOKE the moment they were in the pavilion. “I don’t want anything—I owe you. That pretty boy with you? He isn’t whatever he’s pretending to be. He stole the hearts from two Fatas, both of whom came looking for him.”
“Moth?”
Outside, Finn cried out and raised an arm as if shielding herself. Jack started toward her. “Finn!”
“Jack!” Teig Lark tossed an object to him.
Jack caught the tiny bottle and dove out of the pavilion—
Something hit him hard in the face. He fell back, stunned. He heard Teig Lark yell and stumbled up, his vision sparking.
Someone grabbed his shoulder. He whirled, striking out.
A pretty Jill in a sundress—and he knew she was a Jill from the glint of death in her eyes—smiled at him.
He avoided the blade in her hand, twisted, kicked out, and caught her in the ribs. She fell, rolled up. He slammed a hand into her head. She collapsed, her dagger spiking into the grass.
When Jack realized Finn and Moth were gone, he stood very still.