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She scowled at me like I was a child with an unruly temper. It took everything in me not to shake her. It was no wonder that she and her ex-husband had a tumultuous relationship. I was starting to wonder if I really wanted her at my castle. I had half a mind to send her over to Foxglove as a parting gift.
“You’re acting like this herb is gone forever.” She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “I said no such thing. What I actually said was that no one could find it in the wild. Now, there are a number of good botanists who’ve figured out how to grow it for sale…kind of like the mortals that grow the funny plant. You know, the one that gets them high.”
I bolted upright. “You’re telling me that I could find a grower?”
“There’s only one place to find it now.” She smiled and looked me up and down. “I don’t think you’re ready, lassie.”
Don’t punt her. Don’t punt her. Don’t punt her.
Fingers hooked into quaking claws in the air, I somehow managed to put them back down at my sides. “Why do you say that?”
“We’re going to have to pay the Goblin Market a visit.”
Addie met my gaze over Hilda’s head. We both shared a questioning look because neither of us had answers. I’d never been to a Goblin Market myself. While I knew they existed, Rhoan had always been the one to go for me.
I glanced back at the pages of the journal. Under nightsmane it read:A powerful herb for cutting through threads of fate. It is the herb that whispers in the night, telling stories of what could be if only you would pick it.
The fanciful description gave me hope that I could use it to my advantage. There were fate threads binding Rhoan to Faust because of this bargain. I wanted to cut them and re-weave them so that Rhoan could keep the beast that he’d grown accustomed to. It was a part of himself, and I wasn’t about to deny him of it.
I snuck a glance at Addie. She had the power to change the threads of fate. I could have asked her to help me, but she’d vowed to never touch them again after splitting my own future into several doomed timelines. Of them, I was the only one left.
It reminded me that I was toying with forces greater than myself. But if the original Cerridwen used this herb, then I could, too.
“Time to pay the Goblin Market a visit,” I said with determination.
Hilda explained that the market wouldn’t be open until late in the night, once the witching hour struck. Even then, it was hidden to most mortal eyes. She offered to guide me. There would be strings attached, but I chose to ignore that for now. We could argue about that later.
6
CERRI
Sitting on my hands until midnight wasn’t exactly all that fun. While I wanted to nap and visit Rhoan in my dreams, Hilda and Addie kept me awake. They both watched me with wary eyes as if I were an addict trying to sneak back to my drug of choice.
I bristled at the treatment, to say the least. I’d grown so used to being treated like royalty that I’d forgotten what it meant to be held accountable. The responsibility of saving people tasted a lot different than the shame of knowing that I kept trying to escape reality. Addie was right to watch me, but I didn’t want to admit it out loud.
Finally, midnight struck. I donned a pair of black leggings, a soft rock band shirt, and a long leather trench coat with pockets. I looked like the villain that the main character never expected to betray them. I took in the contrast between my black outfit and my white hair and considered a pair of sneakers to tone down thevillainyvibes, but it wasn’t quite enough.
Hilda gave me an appreciative nod on the way out. Addie followed in our footsteps with her hands shoved into the pockets of her outdoorsy puffer jacket. I wanted to ask her to stay because I knew that fae could have ill intentions with mortals, but it might have been an insult to her.
It wasn’t like any of us could be considered mortals anymore. Addie was ademi-god. And much less prone to accept gifts than Vi.
Hilda led us into the heart of Lakesedge. At first, I thought that perhaps she was screwing with us, leading us nowhere at all. Then I heard the unmistakable thump of drums. It was a low and steady musical rhythm that tugged at my mind. I met Hilda’s eyes, and she smiled.
“Why are we almost downtown?” Addie asked. She hugged her coat tighter around herself and peered into the dimly lit part of the city. “We’re in the ass-end of downtown Syracuse, and that’s never a good place to be.”
“Have you ever asked yourself why it might not be the best neighborhood?” Hilda grinned as she walked backwards, leading us towards a nearby underpass.
Addie’s brows arched with confused concern. She stole a glance at me.
“Goblins,” was all I could say.
I knew nothing about them other than the fact that they were responsible for the Goblin Market. They’d built this underground space to cater to those who wanted a taste of the fae realm here in the mortal spaces. A poet even wrote about the fae food she’d gotten from one such market.
Rhoan had informed me, once upon a time, that other fae now set up stalls at the Goblin Market. It was part of a massive underground network that every type of fae dealt in, even if they wanted to deny any involvement with goblins.
Hilda led us to a tapestry hanging beneath the underpass. Glass crunched under my boots in the dark. A car passed overhead, making the space around us roar as the tires hit every one of Syracuse’s signature highway potholes. But the tapestry didn’t quiver from the vibrations of the traffic overhead.
The fabric swayed gently in a breeze that shouldn’t have been here. I swallowed and looked to Addie. She reached out for my hand and squeezed it to remind me that she would be right beside me the whole time.
