Page 42 of Too Hexed to Handle

I watch him out the corner of my eye. If he knew they’re close by . . .

He won’t forgive me for keeping it from him.

‘What?’ he asks.

‘What?’

‘You’re looking at me.’

‘Am I not allowed to look at you?’ The words barely leave my mouth before I stumble over a branch.

Astin swears, catching my arm before I tumble to the ground. ‘Maybe you should focus on walking.’

‘Maybe you should focus on . . . on . . .’

He raises a brow when it becomes apparent I have no comeback to hand and, worse, I’m still looking at him. Wind blows his hair from his face, ruffling his usually unruffled appearance, while his blue eyes glimmer with an unfamiliar, carefree amusement. I guess his clothes aren’t a total shield from the strange version of Astin that’s surfaced over the past two nights.

I tear my gaze away, hating keeping secrets from him, and stomp ahead.

We spend the rest of the journey in silence, travelling through the woods before arriving at a set of narrow stairs carved into rock, leading into the valley housing the city of Rerta below. Behind the mass of buildings, coloured flags and the tiny dots of moving people, snow-capped mountains rise in the distance. The Souleater settlement is somewhere within them.

It’s late afternoon by the time we’ve descended the stairs and entered the city at last. This time of year, the days draw in early, and the sky above is already darkening, thick clouds forming over our heads as the wind picks up. Although the outskirts are quiet, I find myself seeking Souleaters down every alley, for a figure cloaked in a white veil, fingers reaching out to grab me like they did two years ago. As we move deeper into the city, there’s an increase to the number of wardens patrolling the streets. They should be reassuring, but all they do is remind me protection might be necessary, and the wardens will likely be as useless a deterrent as the pink banners strung overhead.

I keep my eyes peeled for areas that might have been used to stash a magical artefact, running my fingers along the brickwork of every building, searching for loose stones housing concealed compartments, and peering into bushes as though I expect to find a prettily wrapped package inside.

Panic flutters in my chest the further we walk and see nothing but the usual signs of the Laevothe festival: heart charms, Clarabelle dolls and flags of various sizes for sale on every street corner. Nearly everybody carries a flag, marching down the streets with poles in hand, brandishing the love hearts speckled over the fabric like a weapon.

I’m covered in a cold sweat by the time we’ve reached the centre. Every street we turn down is crammed with more and more people, and their emotions are so vibrant. There’s so many smells to experience, so many I want to taste. My hands twitch with the urge to grab someone. I’ve never visited a city this large before, and it’s too much, too overwhelming, I can’t stand it –

I stop by a wall, panting, my fingers digging into the stone at my back to prevent them digging into things they shouldn’t. Posters flap either side of my head. I bat one away, only to notice the words along the top: MISSING. It’s the same picture that woman showed us in the Duck in the Dark.

‘Daisy?’ Astin touches my shoulder and I nearly buck at the contact. His palm is overly warm, searing through my blouse and branding skin that’s already sweltering. ‘What’s wrong?’

I’m racking up quite the list of answers to that question, but a blast of lemon-sharp anxiety from a woman rushing past has my head spinning.

‘I don’t like crowds,’ I force out. ‘I’m fine. Give me a minute.’

I can do this. It’s not like I’ve never been in a crowd before. The streets of Shiverholde may not teem with this many people, but there are still people. I’m usually better than this. But there’s something about their excitement that’s set me on edge, my nerves buzzing, knowing the festival is close by. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted to see, and now I’m unsure if I can handle it.

‘Hey.’ Astin presses closer, bracing both hands around me until he’s blocked out everything around us. I swallow. Look into his eyes. The din on the street dims to nothing. ‘We’ll be as quick as we can. We’ll find what we need and get out of here.’

I nod, closing my eyes and trying to centre myself. My fingers find his waist of their own accord, pulling him fully against me and twining themselves in the fabric of his shirt. His clothes are too thick for me to hear his heartbeat, but I imagine it anyway, pulsing as fast as mine. His breath stutters against the top of my head, but his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, and I use that rhythm to slow my scattered thoughts.

As much as I hate the way it’s hard to read him, his tumbling emotions make it easier to stabilise myself; the desire lessening when there’s nothing to focus on. There’s just him, nothing but pine and something floral, along with – a sudden burst of heat floods my nostrils, like accidentally biting into a chilli hidden inside an otherwise bland meal.

Gasping, we pull away at the same time. I’m not sure what he’s withdrawing for, but he runs a hand through his hair, angling himself away from me to assess our route, before leading me down a side road that’s marginally less busy than the main street. I inhale through my mouth the whole way, which does make everything less pungent, but leaves me with the taste of sugar in my throat.

We round a corner to see a blaze of pink.

‘Oh,’ I gasp. Across the street lies a park ringed by iron railings, an abundance of roses crawling around the bars. Lanterns flecked with pink and purple glass hang from the trees, giving the impression that the candles within burn with colour. Stalls selling more love-related souvenirs, along with decadently smelling baked goods, fill the area both in and outside the green.

‘Oh,’ I say again. Not so much a gasp this time, but a moan. This crowd tastes delicious. Mouthwatering. Sunbeams and strawberries, warm on my tongue.

‘Come on. Let’s look around.’ Astin’s fingers are firm but gentle on my elbow.

‘Maybe we should separate,’ I say. It’ll be easier for me to sniff out what we need if he’s not watching me like a hawk.

‘You think I trust you unattended in a place like this?’ Astin screws up his nose as a cloud of pink smoke drifts upwards from somewhere within the maze that occupies a large portion of the park. A queue of people are waiting to go inside, the line building up beneath a banner that stretches across the hedge. Fluttering in the breeze, it reads: Enter, enter, if you dare, come as one and find your pair.