As he stumbled into the relatively open path in front of the booth, he cast about, trying to locate her.
There. A flash of blonde curls over a green coat blurred as Beatrice struggled against the grip of a tall fae female. She was dressed in a similar leather outfit to the one he’d seen earlier, although this female fae had a long blonde braid.
“Let her go!” Benedict took off down the street after them, fumbling in his pocket for his sword. Rather annoying that he’d just piled a whole bunch of desserts in the magic pocket, and those were what kept coming to hand.
The fae paused, her gaze lifting to him, long enough for Beatrice to wrench a hand free.
Plunging her hand into her own pocket, Beatrice withdrew a sturdy wooden club, the standard issue weapon all librarians carried to fight off monsters that occasionally invaded the Library. Even as the fae turned back to her, as if realizing the danger, Beatrice swung the club and smashed it into the fae’s jaw.
The female fae staggered, and her grip slipped enough that Beatrice pulled free. Yet before Beatrice made it more than two steps away, the fae lunged and grabbed Beatrice’s wrist.
Benedict skidded to a halt several feet away, finally drawing his sword from his pocket. “Release her. She’s bound to the Court of Knowledge.”
The Market-goers simply parted around them, ignoring the commotion and not bothering to offer any help to either party. This was a Faerie Market. Disturbances were none of their business.
The fae female tugged Beatrice closer with one hand while drawing a knife with the other. “This is a Faerie Market and not under the jurisdiction of a Court. She’s fair game.”
“Not if she’s bound to a fae.” Benedict mentally apologized to Beatrice, even as he held up his hand, showing off the golden swirl. “We are bound. She’s my fated mate.”
Beatrice held out her hand so that the fae female would be able to see the matching swirl there, proving the truth of his words.
“We were bound on Midsummer.” Benedict held out his hand, willing Beatrice to take it. “The bond might not be completed, but it is unbreakable.”
Hopefully less unbreakable than he made it sound, but this fae female didn’t need to know that.
After a moment, Beatrice’s fingers slipped into his, the golden glow further confirming his words. He tightened his grip, though he didn’t tug. He didn’t want to start a tugging war with the fae female over Beatrice.
“Perhaps we’ll just take you both.” The new voice, a male’s this time, rang out behind Benedict.
Benedict half-turned so that he could keep an eye on the fae female and look at this new threat.
A fae male stood there, the sword in his hand pointed in Benedict’s general direction. As soon as Benedict met the other fae’s gaze, the fae smirked.
Benedict’s blood chilled, a shiver traveling down his spine. He knew that fae. He’d been one of Claudius’s men who had guarded the secret prison.
Was Claudius having Benedict followed?
Of course he was. Claudius knew Benedict was searching for the Wild Fae Primrose, and Claudius wanted the fae hero dead. Yes, Claudius also had his contact in the Court of Knowledge watching Benedict, but with the Faerie Market in town, he must have seen his opportunity to send more of his cronies into the court.
They wouldn’t snatch Benedict. They needed him to lead them to the Wild Fae Primrose.
But now that they realized Beatrice meant something to him, they would use her against him. Perhaps they’d take her now, lock her in that secret dungeon, and threaten her to force him to betray the Primrose.
“You would die before you took a step.” A third voice, this one flinty and so very welcome, sliced through the hubbub.
His back to the wooden side of a booth, Beatrice’s brother-in-law Munch stood there with his bow in his hands, an arrow on the string. That particular arrow had a dark, deadly broadhead. He hadn’t drawn it yet, and Benedict had the sense that Munch would only draw his bow back if he intended to actually shoot something. Or someone.
The fae must have realized it too because the male fae took a step back, raising his free hand and pointing his sword to the side rather than at Benedict. The fae female released her grip on Beatrice’s wrist.
Benedict tugged Beatrice to him, and she tucked herself against him. Almost as if she saw him as safe.
Or at least, safer than the alternative.
Benedict eased both himself and Beatrice closer to Munch, keeping his sword pointed toward the two fae.
“Now, this arrow is tipped with iron.” Munch’s voice rang as steely as the sword in Benedict’s hand. “Unless you want to die, I suggest the two of you move on.”
After another moment, the two fae began edging backwards. Within a few more minutes, they’d disappeared into the crowded streets as if none of that had ever happened.
