Crown of Moonlight (Court of Midnight and Deception #2) - K.M. Shea Page 0,27

the only one drawing stares.

Kevin and Whiskers—my male shade and gloom—walked perfectly on their blue leashes and collars I’d purchased for the occasion, not reacting even though some of the market goers were frantically taking pictures of them with their cellphones.

I’d been reluctant to bring the pair, but they had been really excited about the car ride, and Chase had very enthusiastically pointed out that pets were allowed at the market as long as they were on a leash. Though I was pretty sure he just wanted them around as an extra security measure and an easy way to keep people back.

Thankfully, the humans seemed more fascinated by Kevin’s wispy fur and Whiskers’ massive claws. I mean, my Court reacted with more fear than the humans were showing.

I took a deep breath and inhaled magnificence. “I smell apple cider donuts.”

“Oh, yeah—there’s a stall run by brownies just for baked goods,” Indigo said. “We should check it out. Since this is the fall market, they should have caramel apples, caramel corn, pumpkin bars—”

“Consider me on board,” I said.

“Only if Indigo purchases the food without you in sight,” Chase, ever diligent, said.

“It’s okay,” Indigo said. “My mom is working in the stall—she made some special for my Sovereign.”

Chase tilted his head back for a moment, then nodded. “That will be acceptable.” Feeling my eyes on him, he turned his golden gaze in my direction. “I apologize for these necessary steps, Queen Leila, but I will always remain most concerned with your safety.”

Since we’d paused in the middle of the street, Whiskers sat down and licked his massive paw, then lifted it up and rested it on my thigh like a house cat requesting pets.

I stroked his furry head, used to the thin, greasy feeling of his patchy fur—the poor boy. “It’s fine, Chase. I really appreciate your loyalty, and I’m glad to have you with us.”

Chase bowed his head to me. “I am your loyal subject, my Sovereign.”

His reaction caught me a little off guard—as a werewolf he was technically primarily loyal to his pack, and it was unusual that he’d adjust to calling me by a fae title since we supernaturals typically clutched our dividing lines close.

I didn’t think a market would be the best place to have that conversation, though, so I just smiled at the werewolf and resolved to ask him later.

Music threaded through the air, along with the fragrant smell of baked goods, freshly popped popcorn, and—if my nose was correct—fried meat, which I was willing to bet was being sold by a werewolf.

The supernatural market was held about once a season in downtown Magiford and was basically the magical version of a farmer’s market.

The local police would close off Main Street for the day, and supernaturals were encouraged to set up stalls and bring produce and goods to sell. Except—since we’re supernaturals—those good could be anything from a fae potion to make your hair silky to a wizard frying corn dogs over an open flame.

This gave the humans a chance to see and purchase supernatural goods, and get them mixing with us in a fun way that wouldn’t at all be confrontational or let them know how dangerous supernaturals really were.

Basically, the market was a PR move.

But I wasn’t certain the market assured humans we were all cute, harmless beings as I admired a stall of knives—both hunting knives and some really fantastic kitchen knives—run by a werewolf.

“Oohhh, hey, Rigel. Want your picture taken with a giant pumpkin? Looks like a fae spelled it to grow extra big.” I pointed to the stand where a pumpkin the size of a small car was set up on a white drop cloth so people could take selfies with it.

Rigel stared at me.

“Well I think it looks fun.” I rolled my eyes and moved on to the next stand—a fae selling soaps and low-grade potions.

The fae had been staring at Whiskers and Kevin with terror in his eyes, but when he met my gaze he hastily folded in a deep bow.

I wove around a scarecrow the city had set up to decorate the base of a streetlight, and passed by another row of stalls—a naiad selling sushi, some trolls with a cartload of organic vegetables, a wizard selling slivers of what he claimed was a wizard House that had been destroyed a few decades ago, a werebear that was selling knitted scarves and gloves that were lined with fur, and a werewolf selling what she swore were toy bows, but