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The power that came with the offer tugged on my desires, luring me in with what I could get from it. But the confusion as to why he cared gave me pause.
He grabbed my wrist and dug his fingers into it. “Anything.”
I yanked away. “Why?”
“I need—” Thorn reached us before he had time to finish speaking. The man quickly bobbed his head and took a step back.
“I’m here anytime you want to visit,” he said. The sneaky smile had returned. “My offer still stands.” He was looking at me like one of his prized trinkets, and I felt very much like I was bottled up inside a jar.
“She doesn’t want to make deals today,” Thorn said firmly. But the man had already turned and slipped away.
I tried to wear a casual face as I struggled to retake my memory, to understand why the fae cared about my mother, and to figure out how to use his offer to my advantage. My face must have been an odd twist of emotion since Thorn frowned.
“Are you alright? What did he try to offer you?”
I cleared my throat. “The power to control anyone I’ve seen without their mask. But I’ve never seen someone without one.”
“You won’t,” he stated. “No fae gives that up easily. But you don’t need a trinket to control someone once you’ve seen their face—you’d already own them.”
So there was the trickery of that fae. But still, “When fae marry, do they reveal their faces?”
Thorn placed a hand to his own golden mask. “If they do, they are very foolish. Never give that power to anyone.”
We walked back out to the street, and I tucked the warning away inside along with every other warning I’d been given so far. It seemed this realm came with a heavy dose of caution.
Thorn’s jacket swelled at the pockets, and I eyed the spot to guess what he’d picked up from the shop. From the few items I’d seen, it could be anything. My own souvenir weighed in my pocket, and I kept a hand over it while Thorn’s head turned from side to side, eyes sweeping each narrow alley we passed, over each face that turned to us, and each window within sight. Looking for someone, or something.
A whiff of pastry and blueberry wafted by, and I breathed it in to fill up on the taste of it.
“Do you want to try some?” Thorn asked. “Madame Rola makes these tartlets I swear are worth killing over.” He jutted his chin to the wooden shop at our right where a wide sign read “Rola’s Rolls.”
“As long as I don’t actually have to kill anyone.”
“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?” Thorn said airily as he led me through the narrow glass door and into a parlor with rounded chairs, dainty tables, and a long bar at the back loaded with sweets.
“What’s the trick here?” I asked. Silver platters held stacks of sugar-dusted rolls, tarts and crepes, puff pastries, and jelly biscuits, each enormous and each tempting with luscious butter and creamy frosting. “There’s got to be magic in those desserts.”
When I’d been in the other shop, the bookshelves drew me toward them against my will. These didn’t do that. They didn’t need to. My will said to devour them all, and perhaps that was more dangerous. They were tempting without magic.
Thorn sniffed over the counter. “I’ll show you.” He pointed to a fan by an open window, directing the sweet aroma outside. Two passersby stopped and were led by their noses inside.
“That’s the trick. Rola makes delicious food you can’t resist. And her recipe is guarded tight. Trust me, I’ve tried to get it.”
“And he’ll never have it.” A woman appeared from behind a black curtain, drying her hands on a towel hung over her petite shoulder. “But I’ll always have a raspberry pudding with molten chocolate drizzle for my best customer.”
Icing coated strands of her pale hair, which she tucked behind her ear as she pulled two small bowls from under the bar and set them on top, each jiggling with pink pudding. Beside them were two perfectly square cubes of fudge. She didn’t ask for payment but looked at Thorn expectantly. Thorn stuck out his hand, and she brought her own finger to his. I crept nearer. When she pulled her finger back, it was stained with blood.
Thorn pressed his fingers together, but a tiny drop appeared as soon as he let go. His blood, I realized. She’d taken blood from him.
Madame Rola held up her finger with Thorn’s spot of blood and disappeared behind the curtain. When she reappeared, it was gone. “The girl?”
Thorn moved in front of me. “You can have two more from me instead.”
I shifted from behind him. Her eyes, as brown as the fudge before us, held his for several moments before she finally nodded. She reached back out and took two more drops of blood, while the other customers browsed the assortments without batting an eye.
When she’d finished, Thorn wiped his finger on a napkin, scooped up the pudding, and strolled outside. I took one more peek at the woman before she disappeared behind the curtain again, then followed Thorn.
Thorn led us to the back of the shop, where a small courtyard sat inside a circle of lush trees, a marble bench between each. He passed me a bowl.
