Chapter 5 A white lie

"Um. Um." Mara scrambled for her voice. "I didn't see any box."

The old elf's face fell, and whatever hope had been holding it up drained out with it.

"Maybe you left it somewhere else on your way," Mara added, the lie sitting heavy behind her teeth. She glanced toward her shop, just once, then dragged her eyes back to his face before he could notice.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you," he said. "I only thought this was the last place I remember holding it."

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her skirt. "You're mistaken. It must have slipped somewhere along your way."

He scratched at the back of his head and shrugged. "Maybe so. Thank you for your time, all the same."

"Farewell." She watched him shuffle off down the snow packed street before she pushed her door open and slipped inside, throwing the latches shut behind her.

She pressed her back flat against the cold glass and laid a hand over her own chest, where her heart was hammering hard enough to feel through her ribs.

"Oh, Mara Bell. You will burn in hell for this." Lies. She had stood there and fed an old, harmless elf a string of lies instead of a single word of truth.

Her brows knit together. "What was I supposed to say? That I found his box and let loose a stuttering dragon from inside it? Hand Azrael over like a parcel?"

The thought alone struck her as ridiculous.

"It's just a small lie." She dragged both hands down her face. "A white one."

"Who was that?"

Azrael's voice cut through the quiet and sent her jolting off the glass.

She dropped her hands. He was standing just outside her bedroom door, well inside the shop, arms loose at his sides, looking around at the shelves like he had every right to be there.

"What are you doing out here?" Her voice came out sharp enough to cut. "I told you not to leave that room."

"I thought I heard you talking to someone." He glanced past her, toward the window, entirely unbothered by the edge in her voice.

She planted a hand on her hip. "That was your handler."

He blinked at her, slow and blank.

"The elf. The one who carried your bottle into my shop in the first place." Her voice climbed a notch with every word. "He's looking for you."

His jaw dropped open. "H... he is looking for m... me?"

"Yes. And if you don't start following my rules, I will march out there, call him back, and hand you right over." Her voice had gone hard, hard enough that his green eyes flickered, just for a second, toward something closer to red.

"D... don't." The word came out low, almost a groan.

"Hey." She jabbed a finger at him, even as her hand trembled slightly with the motion. "You do not breathe fire on my shop. Do you understand me?"

His frown deepened. "I am not d... doing that."

She let out a breath she hadn't noticed herself holding and dropped onto a stool, her knees suddenly unwilling to hold her up any longer.

"Stars above, I nearly died when I saw him standing there." She lifted her eyes back to Azrael. "Why does he care so much about finding you?"

He shrugged, slow and helpless. "I don't know."

"Maybe you burned down their kingdom," she said, reaching for the rag on the table without looking at him.

"I did not."

"How would you know?" She dragged the rag across the wood in long, hard strokes. "You don't even remember anything except your name."

His jaw tightened, but nothing came out. He simply stood there, arms folded across his chest, watching her scrub at a table that was already clean.

"Go back upstairs, Azrael." She didn't bother looking up.

"Of course." His voice had gone flat and even. He turned and disappeared back through her bedroom door without another word.

She kept cleaning until the bell above the front door rang.

"Please don't let that be the elf again," she muttered, dropping the rag onto the counter.

She looked up, and her whole face folded into a frown.

"Eliza."

What is she doing here.

Mara wiped her palms down the front of her skirt and crossed to the door. Eliza was already beaming by the time Mara worked the latches free, her wings giving one small, satisfied flutter as she stepped inside, her eyes sweeping over every bare shelf in the room.

"Good morning, Mara." The words came out sweet, almost musical.

"Good morning, Eliza." Mara pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Still so empty in here." Eliza let her gaze drag slowly across the shop, lingering on the gaps between jars. "You really should let this place go. Perhaps being a dream keeper simply isn't in you."

Heat crawled up Mara's neck. "And you're in the best position to lecture me, after taking my man?"

Her fingers dug into the fabric at her sides.

Eliza laughed, bright and easy, like the question amused her more than it stung. "Your man? Eden chose me, Mara. Don't you dare call him yours again." Something sharp lit behind her eyes. "He's mine now." Her mouth curved into a smirk.

Mara's hands curled into fists at her sides. Every muscle in her wanted to wipe that smirk clean off Eliza's face with the back of her hand.

She didn't move.

She was a fairy under watch, her place in Bellweather held together by nothing more than probation and good behavior, and Eliza knew it as well as she did.

"Fine." Mara raised one hand, palm out, and let it drop again. "You're not worth losing my only chance over."

Eliza's brow arched. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You and Eden suit each other perfectly." Mara's smile came out thin and mocking.

Eliza rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched with something like satisfaction. "Now you're finally catching on. You're not as dense as I thought."

You're the dense one here, Mara thought, but she kept the words locked behind her teeth.

Eliza reached into the knitted bag slung over her shoulder and drew out a gold trimmed invitation card, holding it out between two fingers.

"I came to invite you to my shop's opening, cousin."

"Your shop?" Mara took the card, turning it over once in her hands.

"My dream keeping shop." Eliza's smile widened. "Just down this very street from yours, as it happens."

Mara's jaw went slack.

Of every street in Bellweather, every corner of the town Eliza could have chosen, she had picked the one lined with Mara's own struggling shopfront.

Mara's mouth opened, some sharp reply already forming, but before a single word could leave her, the door to her bedroom creaked slowly open behind them.