Chapter 16 Yield #2
After some discussion, Brynn and Glo decide they will accompany me to the bazaar.
That back-and-forth didn’t include me at all though—it was a hushed battle of pointed stares, shrugs, and nods between the two of them.
This unspoken conversation irks me to no end, but I refuse to question it.
Instead, I work on fixing my face into a mask of indifference while they pay me no mind.
It’s probably for the best that they tag along, as my sense of direction is shit.
I spent the last few days attempting to learn the way to the bazaar from Brynn’s apartment.
But as of late, I’d been distracted with our conversations as we walked.
And that first visit I fought to keep up with him unnoticed, threatened him with a dagger to the throat in a blind rage, and was dragged the rest of the way.
It’s unsurprising I’m not confident in it yet.
Glo glamours herself into a much younger girl.
Strangely, she looks like she could be Brynn’s little sister.
Tan skin, small black horns, similar dark honey hair and glowy gold eyes.
I make an effort not to question this either, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
She smiles at me the same way Brynn has a handful of times and my stomach does another confused little flip. This only riles me more.
We don’t talk much as we journey to the bazaar.
Brynn outright stares at me, as though glaring hard enough will lure out whatever secrets I possess.
I ignore him as best I can so that I may remember my way next time.
When I do look at Glo, she is stealing glances at Brynn’s twisted expression and chuckling to herself.
The bazaar is as bustling as ever, the morning light blinding.
They allow me to lead the way, weaving through the crowd toward Jasmeen’s stall.
Once we arrive, I halt at the stall’s entrance, and a very distracted Brynn nearly crashes into me. I turn, stunned by his close proximity. His hands lift in a wordless apology as he backs away.
“I-I’d prefer to go in by myself, if you don’t mind,” I stutter. Brynn opens his mouth to protest, but Glo’s fingers slide down his forearm in gentle warning. He relaxes at her touch. I take a steadying breath and enter the stall alone.
Much like earlier in the week, Jasmeen sits atop her stool reading a book. It must not be as exciting as Razzle’s Recipes, though, because—
“Thea!” she exclaims, slipping from her seat and bouncing toward me. She goes to embrace me but must think better of it. She hugs her book to her chest instead. “I’m so glad you came back.”
“Hello, Jasmeen,” I say, my smile genuine. “I hate to bother you.”
“Never! I meant what I said the other day. I’d like to be friends if you’re sticking around Mayhem for a while.”
I glance toward the stall’s entrance and see Vir and Glo in another heated discussion. Her hand still grips his wrist, but the other waves in front of his face as though threatening to slap him. I glance back at Jasmeen to find she’s followed my gaze.
“Ah, you met Vir?” she asks, her expression unreadable.
“Yes, do you know him?” I ask.
“I think everyone does,” she admits. “But surely that’s not why you’re here?”
“No, you’re right,” I say, shaking my head to center my thoughts. “I wanted to ask you about another elixir.”
“Ooh, did you acquire more?” she asks, excitement already coloring her tone. I grin.
“No, unfortunately I don’t have it on me…
It may be more of a puzzle. Before I left the mortal realm, my missing friend gave me a small vial of a purple, glittery potion.
” My fingers gesture, showing the small size of the vial.
“About yay much. They said it would make ‘the most stubborn of humans pliable.’ Do you know of such an elixir?”
Jasmeen squints, thinking hard. “Did they say anything else about it?”
“They acquired it from a seer in the bazaar,” I say, my hope stumbling. But slight recognition flickers across Jasmeen’s face.
“Do you remember what it smelled like? Was it a true purple or was it… blackish? Thick or watery?” she asks, brows furrowing.
I pause to think. I do not recall the smell of the elixir—only the scent of Alma’s earl grey tea. “I didn’t smell it—but it was a very dark purple—not true black—and it was easy to mix into a cup of tea.”
Jasmeen’s eyes narrow as she throws a nervous look back toward the stall’s entrance.
“I can’t say with confidence without seeing it with my own eyes,” she starts, her knuckles whitening with how tightly she squeezes her book. She lowers her voice. “But it sounds like Yield.”
“Yield?” I ask at full volume. She shoots me a reproachful glance. I grimace an apology.
“Yes,” she continues in a low tone, “I can’t be sure because it’s extremely rare—hard to get because, technically, it’s forbidden.
There are rules in place to protect mortals from Sanctuarians who may seek to use them.
Imagine a fae using something like that on say, a mortal king, to hold some sort of sick influence over all mortals.
The consequences are grave for anyone who deals in banned elixirs like that. Death, mostly.”
I no longer breathe. Jasmeen seems to be second guessing her desire to be friends with me.
“Do you know of any negative side effects?” I ask, my own voice sounding distant, as though it floats away on a nonexistent breeze.
“Other than the glaringly obvious moral dilemma of, you know, basically stealing someone’s agency?” she whispers. Her sharp eyes search my face, which I’m sure pales before her eyes. “It’s so rare that if there are any other negative side effects—I do not know them.”
“Do you know the normal dosage?” I croak. But, deep in my bones, I already know the answer.
“A drop goes a long way. A whole vial the size you described?” she asks, shaking her head, “I’m not sure how long it would be before the taker regains their self-rule. I don’t think it’s deadly, but… they may be under its influence for a very long time.”
Fuck.