Chapter 10 Friends #2
“It’s really nice to meet you, Jasmeen,” I say and she, I note, does not flinch at my use of her name. “This is my first time in Sanctuary and I’m feeling quite out of my element—do you have any advice on how one may blend in here?”
“Blending in, hmmm… my first piece of advice is to not ask for anyone’s name. Avoid introductions altogether. Wait for them to give their call name to you—they will if they want to.”
I’m reminded of Brynn and wonder again why he gave me his true name. For trust, he said. It seemed like too big of a risk for too little of a reward.
“Expect to get your feelings hurt,” Jasmeen continues. “The fae lack a filter and most of them cannot lie—so if they think you’re ugly, they will tell you.”
“Most of them cannot lie?” I ask, surprised. Mavick always made it seem like no fae could lie. My jaw clenches.
“Yes, most. Most Sanctuarians are Oathstruck.” She pauses, spotting the marked confusion on my face, but there’s no need to ask because she continues, “Which just means long, long ago they gave up the ability to lie in exchange for more guile. They struck a bargain—you see, Oathstruck. Though, I don’t know how much of it I believe.
I think the ability to lie was quite literally bred out of them.
Simple evolution—all living things evolve over a millennia of existence. ”
“Yeah, simple,” I say with a short laugh. Jasmeen smiles.
“Make no mistake, though—honor doesn’t stop Oathstruck fae from entrapping mortals in tricky deals, there are—”
“Yes, there are other ways to lie, trick, deceive,” I repeat Mavick’s words as though they too are an oath.
“Oh, but the fae that can outright lie are dangerous,” she continues, her expression now serious.
“A lot of lore exists on it—nothing super substantial though. Those that can lie are considered Oathbreakers—the lowest of lows. Honorless. Sometimes even soulless. Because they will say and do anything to get what they want. Again, not sure how much of it I believe—most of this bullshit centers around bigotry, specifically against the offspring of Sanctuarians and mortals. Those who are half-fae, half-mortal.” She lowers her voice.
“Dimibloods, they call them. It’s a hateful term.
Copulation between fae and mortals is not unusual, but crossbreeding is forbidden.
But the term—Oathbreakers—has come to encompass any scheming fae who cheats, really. ”
“Isn’t that just like the worst of mortal man anyway? Saying and doing anything to get what they want?” I ask, thinking of Simon’s conniving nature.
“Well—wow,” Jasmeen says, another smirk pulling at her lips. “You’ve got a point. So yes, I guess just like the worst of man—but with fae strength and magic, too.”
“Until yesterday, I didn’t even know Sanctuarians and mortals could coexist,” I confess. My cheeks flush. “I know little of this world, to be honest.”
“Don’t be embarrassed! It’s not super common for fae to roam free around the mortal realm. You’re more likely to find mortals here,” she says. “Did your friend tell you about Sanctuary? The one you’re looking for?”
“Yes,” I say, “they’ve been around since I was a child. They’ve… disappeared. I’m hoping to find them here.”
Jasmeen picks up on the sadness in my voice and gives my arm a tentative, gentle pat. “Well, how can I help? I see a lot of regular customers. Maybe I know them?”
Paranoia and doubt gnaw at me as I recall the look on Brynn’s face when he learned my missing friend was Mavick. Maybe I start with the vials before trusting her with everything.
“Actually… I was hoping you would be able to identify some elixirs for me. They gave them to me, but I have no idea what they are. I was hoping they may be useful in some way.”
Jasmeen and I spend the next half hour examining the bottles I pilfered from Mavick’s kitchen.
This appears to be her favorite game. I watch in wonder as she uncorks the vials one by one, sometimes sniffing the contents within, sometimes even poking at the liquid or powdered substance with a pinky finger.
She holds several of them up to the sliver of orange light shining at the edge of the stall to get a better idea of the swirling colors and consistency, too.
She says she thinks best when she writes everything out, so I obey when she asks me to sit, moving her stool closer and observing in silence.
In her concentration, her brow furrows and her lips purse.
A strange warmth fills my chest. How fortunate am I to have found her.
When she’s done, she holds out the paper with her scribbled notes and I take it.
“Nothing too spicy, as they say, but you do carry some valuable ones,” Jasmeen says.
She grabs one of the smallest bottles. It’s an aquamarine liquid, so light it’s borderline transparent, but it sparkles with silver specks when she holds it to the light for me to see.
“This one is called Miridium. It’s an elixir used in some clairvoyance practices.
It can help you see the right way forward.
But it has risks. I wrote down any negative effects I could recall. ”
“It’s yours—as a thanks for helping me,” I say, pushing the hand holding the vial of Miridium back to her before I can change my mind. Seeing a path forward in a sticky situation sounds extremely tempting…
“No way, Thea!” Jasmeen shakes her head, but smiles. “I’m not fae—I don’t require a trade. This was fun. You couldn’t pay me to sort out these puzzles, it’s what I live for. Only—promise me something?”
I nod fervently, though Mavick’s disembodied voice floats through my mind, reminding me just how binding promises are for Sanctuarians. Jasmeen scoops the vials into my open bag.
“Promise you’ll come and visit with me if you stick around—let’s be friends!”