Chapter 10 #3
Benedict eased both himself and Beatrice closer to Munch, keeping his sword pointed toward the two fae.
“Now, this arrow is tipped with iron.” Munch’s voice rang as steely as the sword in Benedict’s hand. “Unless you want to die, I suggest the two of you move on.”
After another moment, the two fae began edging backwards. Within a few more minutes, they’d disappeared into the crowded streets as if none of that had ever happened.
Benedict waited another few heartbeats before he sighed and relaxed. As he did, he became aware of the fact that he had his arm wrapped around Beatrice’s waist. She was pressed against his side and chest, her hands digging into his shirt.
Her face tilted up toward him. Then, as if realizing exactly what she was doing, Beatrice released her grip on his shirt and leapt away from him.
She gave a small cough, smoothed her librarian coat, and hurried to her brother-in-law’s side.
“Thank you for coming when you did. I was watching carefully, but I guess I focused more on the fae males. I missed her until she had already gotten too close.”
“And what was Benedict doing while this was happening?” Munch hadn’t yet returned the arrow to his quiver, his iron gaze turning onto Benedict.
Benedict opened his mouth, then hesitated. It would sound so foolhardy to say that he’d been getting treats. Worse, he’d been the one to make the suggestion that he leave her alone.
“It wasn’t his fault.” When Beatrice looked at Benedict, her gaze held something new and almost uncertain in it. Perhaps it was gratitude.
Or maybe it was just the fading stress of the moment, and she still despised him just as much as before.
Munch eyed Benedict for a moment longer before he finally dropped his gaze and placed his arrow back in his quiver. “Perhaps not. But I’ll walk you back to the square and stick around to see that you are safe.”
“Did you finish your business at the Market?” Beatrice sent her brother-in-law a rather speaking look.
“No, but I can conduct that business just as easily from the square.” Munch’s returning look was just as telling, even if Benedict couldn’t interpret either one.
As the three of them worked their way through the bustling alleys, Benedict searched the fae around them with even more attention than he had before. If Claudius had any more of his minions watching Benedict, he needed to spot them before they hurt Beatrice.
His gaze snagged on two faces he recognized, but they weren’t Claudius’s cronies.
Master Librarian Lysander and his wife Master Librarian Hermia strolled hand-in-hand through the Faerie Market, occasionally stopping at one of the booths or shops.
What were the two of them doing here? Since they were both master librarians, they weren’t assigned to a time slot to do readings. Perhaps they were merely browsing the Market while it was here in the Court of Knowledge.
Or…Benedict nearly stopped walking, and only a look from Beatrice kept him moving.
Master Librarian Lysander was the Wild Fae Primrose.
It all fit. He was a minor fae lord. Not prominent in the court but connected enough to put together a network to help him in his mission.
The Primrose had started operating only a couple of years after Lysander’s friend Basil had married a human and brought said human’s family to live in the Fae Realm.
Lysander’s wife Hermia had become a good friend to Basil’s wife Meg.
Such friendship would give a fae lord the motivation to become the Wild Fae Primrose.
Did everything fit too neatly? Lord Chauvlyn had said that Benedict would need to set aside his conceptions about who a hero must be to find the Wild Fae Primrose. Unless Lord Chauvlyn was lying, despite the bargain of favors they’d exchanged.
How was Benedict to approach Master Librarian Lysander and tell him what he knew? He had to be sure Lysander was the Primrose before he did anything.
Besides, he didn’t yet know who was Claudius’s spy in the court. He didn’t dare approach the Primrose until he was sure he wouldn’t lead Claudius right to the hero.
Shaking himself, he turned away from Master Librarian Lysander and hurried to catch up with Beatrice and Munch. Digging into his pocket, he withdrew one of the cookies he’d bargained for. He held it out to her. “I got you a cookie.”
Her gaze flicked from the cookie to his face before she gave him a small smile and took it. “Thanks.”
Benedict dug into his pocket again and glanced at Munch. “Do you want a cookie?”
Munch seemed to unbend slightly, and he smiled before reaching into one of his own pockets, producing a similar cookie. “I already got one. But thanks.”
Good. Because Benedict hadn’t gotten these desserts with the intention of sharing them with Beatrice’s brother-in-law. He withdrew a matching cookie to Beatrice’s and bit into it.
After the near snatching had dampened the mood, he’d save the rest of the desserts for a day when they were back in the Library. He wanted the moment to be as sweet as the baked goods currently riding around in his pocket.