Page 18 of Ozma

Jack shook his head. “She’s at the farm.” Sleeping, like he wished he was, though he regretted not checking on her before he left. Her wounds from the night before were deep and, though he’d put ointment on them for her, they still had to bother her a bit. He hadn’t wanted to wake her by stepping on a creaking floorboard. Before going back, he should find a stall selling a potion to prevent infection and maybe some herbs for pain.

“Is she now?” the centaur asked with a mischievous grin.

“Yes.” Jack narrowed his eyes. Why did it feel like Antair was implying something else? Ozma had lied and said they were lovers, so it couldn’t be Antair hinting that there wasmorebetween them. When Antair only continued to smirk, Jack’s patience snapped. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Oh nothing.” His beaded bracelets clicked together as he lifted a pumpkin from the cart. “Only that she’s sitting at Asie’s right now, getting her hair braided.”

Jack’s heart nearly stopped. “She’s …what?” he nearly shouted. But that might alert Ozma to his presence and he wanted to see what she was up to. How did she get past him?When?Why? If she wanted to get her hair done, there was no reason she couldn’t simplytellhim that she was going for a bit of pampering. After years of being trapped, he couldn’t blame her, but why wouldn’t shetell him?

Wait.

How was she paying for this? Jack patted his pockets and the heavy clink of coin from earlier sounded. He sighed, relieved, though it was stupid of him to work in the field with a pocket full of money, but the thought of leaving it unattended somewhere made him uneasy.

Antair chuckled and waved him off. “I’ll watch your cart if you want to catch up with her.”

Jack hesitated. He wanted to confront Ozma, but what right did he have? If she went to the market to have her hair braided, who was he to complain? She wasn’t his prisoner.Sheisa liar though.And he’d just begun to believe her.

That’s what you get, Jack.

Believe someone and they use it to ruin you.

“Thanks,” Jack told Antair through a grimace. “I’ll take you up on that, actually.”

He wandered as casually as he could toward another part of the market. Food shops gave way to tables covered in rouge made from berries, then gems fashioned into jewelry. Clothing took up nearly half of the street: woven skirts, hooded jackets, hats, and boots. Then came artists inking skin, either permanently or with a paste that faded over a few weeks. Ozma sat at a booth nestled between a table covered in hat pins and a pixie who would pierce any part of a fae’s body. Her back was to Jack as an elderly troll carefully arranged her golden locks. Tiny blue flowers that matched Ozma’s dress were woven into the intricate braids.

Sneaky, Blossom.

She hadn’t been joking when she’d said she had learned how to get around unnoticed.

Ozma stood, the troll having finished her work, and hefted a satchel from the ground. She quickly handed a piece of fruit to the troll before continuing down the bricked path. There looked to be a fresh pep in her step as she walked. Jack trailed her at a distance, his cart safe with Antair, to see what she was up to, but a troubled feeling came over him the farther they got from town. When Ozma paused to stare at a daunting black tunnel, the feeling only intensified.

Don’t you dare, Blossom. I’m not ready to die yet.

And die they both would—probably. Jack would give them a five percent chance of survival if they went into that tunnel. Places like that were where fae went to conduct nefarious business such as trading younglings for coin or hiring an assassin.

Or to eat other fae who were conducting nefarious business.

They would be an easy snack for any number of bloodthirsty creatures. So what the hell was she doing? What reason could she possibly have to visit a place like this?

Ozma seemed to steel herself and took a step toward the tunnel.

Oh, fuck no!

Jack lunged forward and grabbed her wrist, hauling her back into his chest. “I’ve let this charade go on long enough. What are you up to, Blossom?”

She struggled against his hold, but Jack didn’t give an inch, so she finally stilled. “What are you doing here, Jack?”

“Well, Iwasdropping more pumpkins off at the market, when what did I see?” He paused, though he didn’t expect an answer. “You. Getting your hair braided when you claimed that your wounds were aching too much to help me.”

“The rain ruined my hair,” she said with forced casualness.

Jack spun her to face him, keeping a grip on her upper arms. “So, you walked all the way to town to get it fixed without a coin to your name? Don’t fuck with me. What’s going on?”

She studied his face, her blue eyes roaming over his features. He hoped she could tell how angry he was, hoped that his face showed the depth of the rage. She lied again and again. Put herself in danger. But mostly, he was upset that he wanted so badly to trust her. That she got under his skin so much. And Tip… Jack would never forgive himself if anything happened to his sister.

When her gaze met his again, she appeared completely emotionless.

What am Idoing? Why do I care?

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