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“Thank you,” I manage, then fumble over my cards as he descends. Whatever I was about to auction off next falls out of my head, replaced with a vivid image of smashing his lips to mine. Not the best time for a fantasy, but isn’t it always when they come?
3
ARGOSS
“Really?” Greiko hisses next to me as soon as I take a seat. I guess he didn’t hear the part where the auctioneer said they were her favorite. “Cyella loves flowers.”
“There are two arrangements,” I tell him as Felicity starts the bidding for another prize.
“And this, ladies and gentlemen, is exactly what it looks like,” she says.
I ignore Greiko’s next comment and decide to grab the other bouquet to shut him up. Since he’s obviously too busy mean-mugging me with a sallow look to fix what’s clearly a personal problem.
“Just say you want something next time,” Greiko snaps, clearing his throat before continuing. “Don’t use reverse psychology like a little bit–” Greiko chokes on whatever he’s about to say.
I do the right thing and grab a decanter of water from the middle of the table and pour him a tall glass. I slide it over to Greiko, then watch Felicity run a delicate hand through her long dark hair. It’s curled into waves and pinned back on one sidewith a silver dragonfly barrette, one I could easily replace with something better.
I see a similar piece on two of the orphan girls, one being the Lucy child currently showing the crowd the next piece. I assume the value is sentimental. It’s something I can only speculate over, since everything I value is actually valuable.
“Your new favorite blanket slash top-notch conversation starter!” Felicity says while Lucy and her human companion roll out the intricately crocheted, custom-made enchantment. “The mandala of colors isn’t the only thing exciting about this bid. It’s charmed to keep you just as cool or warm as you want. Catered to fit your temperature needs for up to two years!”
“That’s this many!” Both Lucy and her co-star each hold up two hands to a smattering of chuckles and applause.
“Would you look at that?” I begin, a smug smile spreading across my face. “A bouquet of mandala roses.”
“Argoss –”
“Shush,” I hiss without turning my head.
The blanket really is outstanding, and something I’m sure the little Lucy might want for herself, considering she won’t let the boy roll it up. Would it be a smart move to get the young witch something, too?
Felicity does seem quite fond of the girl, who reminds me of a young me at a similar age. Well, demon-equivalent age. Where humans might live a hundred years, the high demon blood that runs through my veins ensures I last much longer.
But still, the orphan’s spunk pleases me, and the same goes for Felicity’s interest in her. It’s a promising sign of her character. Most human adults balk at even the hint of an unruly child. But not Felicity. She welcomes the challenge to reel the child in, to assert her dominance as only a strong lioness can do. In order to mold, not destroy, mind you.
She wipes the floor with her charges, one manipulation at a time…
“Shall we start the bidding for store price?” she asks. “Say four hundred dollars, plus wrestling it out of this little ninja’s grip.”
“I’m not letting go for less than seven!” Lucy says as the boy tugs on his end to fold the thing up. A tug of war ensues, igniting an audible gasp in the crowd.
“Did I mention the enchantment covers wear and tear?” Felicity asks as Greiko’s laborious inhales get my attention. That and his moist palm in my face.
“You… you need –” He chokes and sputters, clawing at his neck. He stares wide-eyed at the bouquet.
I do the same only for a brief second, knowing the swampster’s sudden reaction to the arrangement can’t be a performance. There’s no way he can pull off the bulging eyes and muddy-green complexion on the fly. I reach into his right breast pocket and come up empty-handed.
“Help! He’s choking!” I hear the elf next to Greiko say, followed by a chorus of gasps as all eyes fall on the swampster.
Greiko collapses to the floor, and I follow him in one swift move. “Where’s your pen?” I ask.
Cyella prefers the instant effect of medicine to the lingering side effects of the standard magical remedy – a big, wet spray of kraken pheromones to the face, preferably with a touch of dragon piss for fast activation. The smell is horrible, and no mother’s love can sniff past it. Greiko gasps and sputters in a vain attempt for air.
“Is anyone a medicine mage?” a voluptuous satyr yells from a table next to ours.
“We’ll settle for a doctor!” another voice calls, and I think it’s little Lucy.
I search his other pockets until Greiko slaps me on the arm and points to his foot. I take the hint and roll up his right pant leg.Damn it!
