Chapter 7 #2
Viv closed her eyes. “Right. Of course. I’m not used to this.” She opened her eyes and gave Charlie a guilty smile. “I’m sorry. I’m probably making your job a lot harder than it needs to be.”
“No, no, don’t apologize. I understand. You wouldn’t be the first person who isn’t used to this.” Charlie’s expression softened. “It’s a shame you have to be guarded at all.”
“It’s stupid, is what it is,” Viv said, exasperated. She turned and looked back toward the forge. “Maybe your friend Ben could make introductions later?” she asked Rowan. “Or approach her on the down low?”
“I’m sure he could,” Rowan said. He looked at Charlie. “Am I right?”
Charlie blinked hard as she was taken off-guard by Rowan assuming she was close with Ben. “Yes. Absolutely. I’m sure Ben would love to.”
“Perfect.” Viv clapped her hands, her mood already bouncing back. “Now, I want to see that dress outside again.”
Charlie led the way to the front of the shop, to the dream of a dress.
Viv sighed as she touched the skirt. “It would be perfect for Lady Evelaine, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I do,” Charlie agreed, wistfully. Then the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
She froze. Something in the air had shifted. There was a tenseness that Viv and Rowan hadn’t picked up on. Charlie glanced across the way and realized Ben was coming toward the costume shop, jaw tight, looking both confused and worried. The second their eyes met, he flicked his gaze left.
Charlie put her arm out to block Viv and Rowan from sight and looked in that direction. She scanned the crowd, eyes sweeping over tents, vendors, wandering knights. And there—five people in matching capes, hoods up despite the warm afternoon, walking in a tight knot straight for the costume shop.
She recognized those capes—the same kind worn by Caiden Bramble once he became one of the Embersworn.
Only they weren’t Embersworn. They were Caidansworn.
“Hang on,” she murmured. “We’ve got trouble.”
Viv’s voice was barely a whisper. “What kind?”
“Put your hood up. Don’t stare. Stay close.”
Ben reached them. “Charlie—?”
“I see them,” she cut in. Her mind was already running the map of the fair: security, exits, blind spots, crowd density.
“Let me help you,” Ben murmured. “We’ll take the back door out of the shop. Security is to the left, opposite the jousting ring, away from the crowd.”
“Perfect. I was thinking that, too.” She turned to Viv and Rowan. “To the back of the shop. Don’t move quickly. I want you to laugh and talk, but quietly. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, but we do want to get out of here quickly. We blend, we move, we don’t panic.”
They obeyed without question. The four of them headed back in.
The shop owner glanced up and gave Ben a puzzled smile.
Ben made some sort of sign as he passed her and her eyes widened as she nodded.
They found the exit, headed out of the costume shop, and turned left toward the security tent, walking casually but quickly.
Then a hand brushed the small of her back—steady, guiding, possessive without being invasive.
Ben.
“‘Tis a fine thing you could be here today, milady,” he said, back in his Ren Faire blacksmith persona. His accent hit somewhere inconvenient in her chest, and if she was being honest, elsewhere. He was playing the role, pretending they were a couple.
Which was very dangerous for her focus.
She glanced over and realized that Rowan had taken Viv’s hand. She smiled to herself. She didn’t think it was much of an act—more like an excuse.
They slipped into the tide of fairgoers, dodging mead mugs and flower crowns. But the prickling at the back of her neck wouldn’t settle down.
They passed a shop selling cloaks and Charlie made for it. She grabbed a dark cloak from a rack at the front, calculating whether she had time to pay for it. Ben read her mind.
“Just to borrow,” he called to the vendor and made the same sign. The woman’s eyes widened, then she nodded and waved them on.
Charlie threw the cloak over Viv’s shoulders. “Keep your head down.”
Then out of nowhere, to their right, the shouts started.
“There she is!”
“Lady Darkfell the Betrayer!” they shouted as they approached the shop.
Murderer!”
The words knifed through the air, freezing half the crowd. Charlie’s stomach clenched. Two groups, Charlie thought, her heart sinking. How many of them are here? Luckily, there were only three people in this group.
“How did they recognize us?” Viv asked.
Great question.
The disguises were perfect. Then she remembered Ben heading for them before they’d even stepped out of the costume shop, alerted to danger, even if he didn’t know what it was.
The Caidansworn were already looking for Viv before they stepped out of the costume shop.
They were tipped off.
“We’ll figure it out later,” she told Viv. “First, we need to get you to safety.”
Ben’s eyes met hers. “Go. I’ll distract them.”
He peeled away before she could argue. She immediately missed his hand on her back. Ben moved toward a juggler in motley. A quick word, a nod, and the man launched himself into a wild tumble right into the path of the cloaked intruders, wooden knives scattering like hail.
“Oh, what a fool I am!” he bellowed, earning laughter from the crowd and blocking pursuit.
Beside her, Charlie heard Ben’s low chuckle as he rejoined them. “Magpie still has good timing.”
Two fairies spun into the space behind them, glittering wings flaring wide to obscure sight lines.
“Oh, let us sprinkle you with fairy dust!” they told the Caidansworn, who tried to push past them and failed.
Carlie grinned. All of Ben’s Renaissance friends were helping them escape.
She moved Viv and Rowan through the confusion, pulling off Rowan’s hat, tightening Viv’s cloak. Drummers appeared, followed by dancers in colorful skirts flaring out as they spun. A mock sword fight erupted behind them, drawing every eye.
“Almost there,” Ben said under his breath. “Between those two shops.”
A final shout cut through the noise. “Vivianne Cross!”
Charlie swore softly.
Ben turned, expression hard as iron. “What’s this about Vivianne Cross?” he demanded.
“You can’t silence us!” one of the protesters yelled.
"I can't," Ben said evenly. "But security can."
As if on cue, three Faire security guards in period costume pushed through the crowd toward the shouting Caidansworn, hands up, voices calm but firm. Not a request.
Charlie didn't wait to watch. She moved Viv and Rowan between the two shops, where Faire management waited — two men and a woman, one holding a radio that very clearly did not belong in the fifteenth century.
“I’m head of security,” the woman said briskly. “We’re escorting eight people out right now. They’ve been told they’re banned permanently.”
“Good,” Charlie said. “Is there any chance they’ll test the perimeter later? Try to sneak back in?”
“We’re ready if they try,” one of the men said grimly. “And God help them if they do.”
A warm hand settled against her back again. She turned to find Ben smiling, relief softening the angles of his face.
“They’re gone,” he said quietly. “No one’s spotted any others.” He looked at Viv and Rowan. “It should be safe to go back in—if you still want to spend the day here after that.”
“We absolutely do,” Viv said immediately. Her eyes flashed. “I refuse to be intimidated by anyone.” She looked at Rowan. “What do you think?”
Rowan gave an exaggerated sigh. “As if I have any say in the matter when it comes to you making up your mind.”
Ben laughed, the sound rolling low in his chest. He looked at Viv. “Now, what’s this about Lady Darkfell?”
Viv sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it right now, if you don’t mind.”
“Understood.”
“However, I don’t know what your week looks like, but I would love it if you would join us at our scouting sites. That is, if you’re not busy doing anything else.”
Charlie caught Ben glancing at her. Was that warmth in his eyes? The hint of a smile?
“I’d be honored,” he said.
“Awesome,” Rowan said. “This is gonna be fun.”
Charlie stayed silent, scanning the crowd. She was outwardly calm, inwardly coiled, searching for more Caidansworn capes, waiting for more shouting.
Someone had tipped off the Caidansworn, and until she found out who, she wasn’t taking her armor off for anyone.
No matter how reassuring Ben’s hand felt.