CHAPTER 36
Perched high atop Lugh Bridge on one of the premier balconies were six newcomers. They had to have connections to get such a plum vantage point—not to mention, much gold. The Cailleach Café came with a hefty price. A few fingers discreetly pointed.
Up there . . .
Who do you suppose . . .
Rich nobles . . .
Not from around here . . .
One observer in particular took note. She recognized the woman in the middle. They’d had some brief words, and there had been numerous inquiries about her. Money could be made in infinite ways. Information was a commodity just like a bolt of silk.
“Look at that view,” Rose crooned. “I could stay up here forever.”
“Mmm,” Hollis agreed, then motioned to the end of the table. “Pass down more of those prickly purple things, would you?”
Sashka reached for the platter. “Those are—”
“I don’t want to know what they are. I just want to eat more in ignorant bliss.”
A few seconds later, their server brought them yet another platter to share.
They had ordered the Queen’s Sampler, which seemed to include every delicious thing on the menu.
Most of it was finger food, and Bristol felt like she was back at Sal’s on a Friday night, dishing up platters of garlic knots and bruschetta.
It was a delightful, leisurely way to eat as they took in the sights—and those were abundant and entertaining.
Jugglers; shape-shifters; colorful gowns that drew gasps; a merkind, fresh from the river, her hair dripping down her bare body, as she bargained with a merchant for a hair bauble; a team of miniature blue horses from Amisterre; a cloud of river sprites making teamwork of stealing a thimble-size pastry from a bakery.
It seemed a minute didn’t pass before one of their group was saying, Look over there!
Bristol spotted Mae making her way down the center of the bridge like she owned it, but as Street Mother, Mae seemed to think she owned the whole city.
Maybe she did. Bristol remembered passing over this bridge on her first day in Elphame—how the sights had fascinated and overwhelmed her.
The grand towers, homes, and gardens teetering on top of one another, jammed together like a jeweled puzzle, and the many filigreed balconies filled with all manner of fae, sipping their precious drinks and observing the chaotic crowds below.
Now she was one of those fae, watching from above, sipping her own mysterious smoky drink, mostly unafraid of Mae now.
Across the bridge from them on a lower balcony, a brightly dressed faun plucked out a tune on a fiddle, the notes bouncing in the air in time with the bustle below.
She looked over at Rose, whose cheeks were practically glowing.
“Is this what it’s like being a hawk?” Bristol asked. “Taking everything in at once?”
“Yes,” Rose answered dreamily, “but even better, because you’re soaring far above it all, completely weightless and apart. It’s hard to describe how heady it is.”
“How old were you the first time you shifted?” Julia asked.
“Only four. It was an accident. My parents panicked because they couldn’t get me to change back.
We were in a small flat in Hampstead at the time, and I darted through the rooms, batting into walls and furniture—but they didn’t dare open a door.
They finally found a sorcerer in the city who guided me back to human form. ”
“That’s so young!” Julia said. “I didn’t even know I could shift until I was thirty, and didn’t master it until I was forty. How about you, Hollis? When was your first time?”
Hollis shrugged sheepishly. “A year ago?”
There was a burst of surprised reactions.
“I mean, I knew I could before that. I had partially turned for years, a furry ear here, a long tail there. Whiskers. But I was terrified to fully change, afraid I’d never be able to change back.
” She explained that her mother passed when she was in college, and she only knew a handful of fae in Seattle, none of them shape-shifters, so she had no one to ask for guidance.
“There was a little fae bookstore in town—just a back room, really—so I read everything I could about shifting, and finally took a chance in the safe confines of my apartment. It was exhilarating. But I never did it in public until I came here.”
“Really? I never would have guessed!” Sashka said. “You do it so gracefully. Those cute little turns and hops.”
“What does it feel like to be something else?” Avery asked. “Do you still feel like yourself?” The questions made Bristol’s heart race, but when Hollis began answering, she found herself leaning in, not wanting to miss a word.
“No,” Hollis answered. “You don’t feel like yourself at all.
First of all, every part of you moves so differently.
Every muscle. Every twitch. Even your tongue feels odd inside your mouth.
And your senses are different too. I can’t see as well, but my whiskers tell me everywhere I need to turn.
And scent! Gods! I can tell exactly how many minutes a loaf of bread has been out of the oven, and how far away a ripe strawberry is.
But I can smell the bad things too, like danger and fear, and sometimes, I think, death that hasn’t even arrived yet. It’s a cold, dank smell.”
“But do you think the same?” Bristol asked. “Do you remember who you are?”
“Yes, mostly, but you don’t want to. You want to fully sink into who and what you are, to feel the fur on your belly, and the tap of your tiny claws on the earth.
The feel of your tail sliding behind you, adding a strange balance you’ve never felt before.
When you change, something calls to you to forget your other self, and only live in the moment of who you are in that place and time. At least, that’s how it is for me.”
Julia nodded. “It’s seductive, the incredible power you feel, the new instincts that overtake you. Once, when we were visiting the Kalahari, I changed for two full months and nearly forgot who I used to be. My aunt had to coax me back.”
“Yes,” Rose agreed. “The power and freedom enchant you, but probably no less than returning to human form enchants you again. I guess balance is the key, like playing a piece on the piano, performing the melody with one hand and the accompaniment with the other. You need both hands.”
“Beautifully expressed, Rose,” Julia said.
“Yes, beautiful,” Hollis agreed.
But Bristol’s mind was dwelling on other words, Jasmine’s words: profound changes. There was nothing beautiful in the way she said them. Instead, her words were thick with warning.
The server arrived with a final platter, filled with the prettiest chocolate meringue rose cookies dusted with shimmering sugar flakes. Hollis groaned, holding her stomach, but the cookie roses were too enticing, and they all took one.
“I’m never going to be able to eat dinner tonight,” Avery complained, licking sugar from her fingers.
Sashka moaned. “I forgot about dinner with the ingrate. And we can’t be late, or he might go into another meltdown.”
“Yes, the sooner we get it over with, the better,” Julia said.
“I’m kind of looking forward to watching him grovel,” Hollis mused. “This could be fun.”
Avery scoffed. “It’s only an apology. Sorry. One word. That won’t take much groveling.”
“Unless we drag it out,” Rose replied, her eyes full of mischief.
Julia laughed, and put her hand to her ear, pretending she was talking to Cael. “What’s that, Your Majesty? I can’t hear you. Say it again? A little louder! Preferably on your knees.”
Sashka clapped her hands. “I am so doing that.”
Bristol was actually looking forward to the apology too.
Maybe this time Cael would have more finesse than with his last botched attempt, when he accused her of casting a spell on Tyghan, but she thought about what he said too: Fear and anger have ruled my small world for months now.
Maybe she shouldn’t judge him based on his first day of freedom.
The hunched shopkeeper hummed cheerfully as she wrapped Bristol’s purchase, her gnarled hands surprisingly nimble.
She had teeth as sharp as Mae’s, but her voice was sweet, almost childlike, with a disposition to match.
When she smiled, her pointed fangs sparkled in a friendly way, if that was possible.
Bristol had learned not to assume anything about appearances in the fae world.
“You’ll love it,” the old woman said. “No shenanigans with this one! Just sweet notes.”
What kind of shenanigans could a tiny flute stir up? Bristol wondered, but only replied, “Good to know.”
The woman wrapped Bristol’s purchase, her gnarled hands surprisingly nimble.
She tied some sisal string around the floral paper before handing the package over.
Sisal, Bristol thought. It is common here.
A few brass horns up on the wall wheezed as Bristol tucked the package in her bag, apparently disappointed that Bristol hadn’t chosen them.
Maybe they were the ones more prone to shenanigans?
“Thank you,” Bristol said. “I know my sister will love it.”
The squad had separated after lunch to shop on their own, since time was short before they had to be back at the palace, and Bristol had gone searching for gifts for her sisters. This small music shop had immediately caught her eye.
Besides being an immensely talented singer, Cat had never met an instrument she couldn’t play.
Give her a day with just about anything—piano, guitar, harp—and Cat could pluck out at least a few tunes.
She was remarkable in that way. Bristol smiled, remembering how she would even tap out songs with half-filled drinking glasses and a spoon.
Maybe this beautiful little flute would help make up for all the time Bristol had been gone, though a present wasn’t really necessary.
For all her worrying and ranting, Cat was quick to forgive. She never held a grudge.
“Bring your sister back with you next time,” the shopkeeper called after Bristol as she left. “I will give her the full tour.”
Bristol smiled. “I’ll try.” She mused on that thought as she walked out the door. Maybe one day she really could bring her sisters here, once Elphame was in a safer, more settled state. She would never dare bring them now.
She had gotten Harper a gift too—a book to make up for the one Harper had to shuck like an ear of corn to pass through the portal.
This new one was definitely not a weeded book from the library’s twenty-five-cent bin.
It was bound in hand-tooled leather, with gilded edges.
It outlined the history of each kingdom in Elphame and their unique features.
Harper would love it. Hopefully it would earn Bristol best big sister status forever.
Regret tugged inside her. She missed her sisters and wished she hadn’t closed the tiny portal from Tyghan’s study to their mudroom.
Just seeing a glimpse of them for a few minutes would lift her heart, but it might also gut her with guilt, especially if Cat started in.
For now, letters would have to do. It wouldn’t be much longer until she was home with them—and hopefully with her parents too.
Patience, she told herself. It will be worth the wait.
With two gifts secured, Bristol set out to find something for Melizan and Cosette’s wedding day, though she had no clue what that might be.
Eventually, she found herself walking down a narrow winding street of curiosities.
One shop carried nothing but beautiful jeweled insect brooches—beetles, butterflies, and scorpions.
However fascinating, they were not Melizan and Cosette’s style.
Another merchant only sold mirrors—hand, wall, and freestanding, all of which had eerie phantom eyes within them that stared back at Bristol.
She didn’t linger there for long. Last, she came upon a little store that sold small, beautiful knives—finally something the newlywed knights might appreciate.
She picked one up to study a bronze hilt fashioned in the shape of a dragon, a true work of art.
It might be perfect. “Hello?” she called, looking for the shopkeeper.
Silence was the only reply, so she tried again, walking toward the back of the dim shop.
“Hello? Is there—”
Something slammed into her, and light exploded behind her eyes.