Chapter 19 Paeonia #3
Rowan let her wiggle her hand free now that there wasn’t a crowd to bump into. They approached a small inlet, the building made of gold, a large clock plastered at the peak, though it didn’t seem to say the correct time, reading nine o’clock when she knew it to be closer to late afternoon.
He went to enter, and Paeonia restrained a laugh. Rowan was so burly, so messy and wild, he stood in stark contrast to the gorgeous gilded building he approached. She worried they might get kicked out.
They stepped into the jeweler’s shop, heat pressing against them like a wall.
Rowan shrugged off his cloak with the ease of someone who’d been here many times before, hanging it on the rack without a glance to see if she followed suit.
Paeonia quickly mirrored him, slipping out of her coat and setting it down in a hurry as Rowan engaged the male jeweler behind the counter.
She had just started to turn away when Rowan’s cloak slid to the floor with a muted thud. She winced, bracing for the sharp reprimand she was sure would come. But Rowan kept speaking to the jeweler, oblivious to her hesitation at the back of the room.
“Pae,” Rowan urged, calling her over.
She shoved Rowan’s cloak over her own and moved to catch up with him. The room was dark apart from the bright lights that shone on the cabinets displaying arrays of ostentatious jewelry. She had never been inside a jewelry store before, never had the need or desire.
Her fingers clutched the cases, leaning to gaze at the jewelry tucked inside.
Some were gold, some silver, but all had an otherworldly glow to them.
Some shifted when she tilted her head, some had spirals of color on the band of the ring, some even seemed to thrum like if she listened closely enough, they might play her a tune.
Both Rowan and the jeweler went quiet, and Paeonia realized they had spoken to her. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she muttered awkwardly.
“Give him the locket,” Rowan demanded gently.
She hesitated before unclasping it, sliding the key off and into her pocket, then surrendering the necklace.
The man of average height, a lean body, ears on the top of his head with little tufts of hair, took it in his rough hands, using a jeweler’s loupe that hung on a chain clipped to his vest to study it.
She thought he might be some sort of goat, his pupils oval shaped.
He made noises to himself before setting the locket down.
“Why, this is a fae relic.”
Paeonia tilted her head. He leaned on the counter.
“It was made by the Gleam Fae. It’s a personal trinket and can only be opened by familial magic.”
“The fae’s family?” she questioned.
He flipped the locket over, extending his palm to show her. “See here? The marking on the back?”
Paeonia nodded, the small pattern he showed meaning nothing to her.
“Whoever owned the locket placed their finger here when it was forged and summoned their magic. Now, only that magic will open it. So, those blood related, carrying those magical genes, can open it, and no one else.”
Paeonia awed, never having thought she was carrying something so wonderful around her neck all this time. But where could her mother have received it? She sighed.
The man blinked. “Does the locket not belong to you?” He glanced between her and Rowan.
“It was my mother’s.”
“Well, didn’t you just hear me? Place your finger here and summon that magic of yours.”
Paeonia recoiled, turning to Rowan who finally moved, his jaw tense.
His hand pushed her hair back, his finger grazing her skin and leaving a trail of unwanted gooseflesh, revealing her rounded ears to the jeweler.
He seemed to want to play along that Paeonia had no gifted abilities, no inclination that she was fae-touched.
And even though Paeonia knew now that some half-fae had rounded ears, the jeweler seemed to get what Rowan implied with the small gesture.
“Oh,” he muttered, suddenly at a loss.
“I’m not sure where my mother would have gotten this from.” She bit her lip. “Is there another way to open it?”
The jeweler appraised it closely before handing it back to her. “Well, if you can manage to find out who it was forged for, maybe you can find a relative and have them take a crack at it. Otherwise, I’m afraid there’s no way to open it without damaging whatever is inside.”
“And what would be inside?”
The jeweler moved down the case, writing something in his ledger.
“Hm, there could be plenty of things. Most commonly, it holds a set of directions to something that the fae had wanted to always be remembered. Something they could tell others without speaking it. And most uncommonly, it could contain a part of one’s soul. ”
Paeonia gaped, thanking the man for helping her. He leaned his elbows on the counter, giving her a once-over. “You sure it doesn’t belong to you?”
She stared at him in return, unsure of how Rowan wanted her to act.
Rowan cleared his throat. “Thank you, Geoff.” The creature nodded at him, his gaze lingering unsettlingly on Paeonia.
As they turned to leave, Paeonia mumbled, “Why is it so hot in here?”
“Keeps the magic out. Prevents preternatural thievery.”
Paeonia nodded, following behind him as he reached for his cloak, exposing her soft purple one below. He held it out for her before he opened the door. She stepped back into the Night Market and pulled her cloak more snugly around her neck.
Rowan followed suit, taking his cloak and swinging it around his shoulders as the door shut behind them. He took a breath in, and she stopped moving, waiting for him to pass her and lead the way. His eyes dilated before snapping to hers. She gulped, his fist clenched and his jaw taut.