“Look.” I flick through the pages and find the one I want. I point at the map. “Here it is. It was known as the summer entrance.”
“In the Cardinham Woods?” she says doubtfully.
I nod. “It isn’t that much farther than Bodmin, and I know you’re thinking that the woods will be full of tourists, but the joy of this is that the fae entrance is on protected land. Sigurd says that there are enchantments on it, meaning humans cannot see it. It works too. We flew out last night, and I couldn’t see it, no matter how hard I looked.”
“That is indeed interesting. Why did our books never tell of this?”
“Sigurd thinks it may be because there was a lot of infighting in your court at that time, and the king sealed the entrance to prevent unwanted egress. I was wondering whether it would be better to move your entrance to here.”
She taps her lip, her long fingers pale and elegant and adorned with many rings that twinkle in the light. “And what then? The piskies will just jump in with their juvenile antics and show people the way.”
I look over at the piskey king, who’s attempting to look innocent and failing badly. I’ve a feeling it isn’t just young piskies who are playing tricks, but I don’t say anything. “Maybe Your Majesty would commit to a rule that they don’t,” I say respectfully. “After all, any human attention on the magical world is bad for all magical creatures.”
He eyes me, and then after a few beats, he nods. “I think that could be arranged, Cary.” He looks to the fae. “Come, my lady.We can adjourn to the other end of the shop and discuss matters. Cary has laid out food and drink for us.”
“Not near the books,” I say quickly. They turn to look at me, and I smile. “If you please.”
Within seconds, they’ve gone, and I hear the rise and fall of what sounds like polite conversation. For the moment. Ah, well, I’ve done my best. I close the book and set it back on the shelf, so it’s readily available if they have further questions. Then it can go home.
I think of our home and smile. Then I set about tidying up the shop. Yes, shop. You heard it right.
When I first moved in with Sig, I had visions of returning to work at a research centre, but after we’d solved an argument between a manticore and a selkie, Sig suggested an alternative. A shop had become vacant on the street where we’d visited so long ago. It was next to Morveren’s shop, and he’d taken me there one rainy afternoon.
I’d fallen in love with it on sight—the wooden door with the old-fashioned bell that jangles when it’s opened, the mullioned windows looking out onto the magical street, the empty whitewashed rooms.
Standing in the middle of it, Sig had suggested I open a bookshop. He would buy the place for me, and I could run it how I wanted. He’d smiled, his hair vivid in the grey light and his high-boned face affectionate. “After all, my Cary,” he said. “Where there is a bookshop, there is knowledge. You are a researcher, and I have seen for myself how you apply that to the creatures in your new world. Why not set up here, and I will send anyone who needs mediation to you? I certainly do not have the time now I am teaching again.”
Excitement had filled me, and I stared at him. “That would be so wonderful,” I’d breathed. “I find the magical world sofascinating, and I love research.” I’d checked, looking at him. “Do you really think I could do that?”
“I think you can do anything you set that brilliant mind to,” he’d said and hugged me close.
His faith in me always bolsters me, and so I’d done what he suggested, and as usual, he was right. We’d painted the walls a buttermilk colour, cleaned the old, flagged floors and laid old rugs that he had in storage. Then he’d spent a few weeks building shelves. This was wonderful because he’d done it without his shirt on. We’d had a lot of visitors that week, drawn by the handsome half-naked dragon. We’d visited magical book fairs, which were certainly an eye-opener, and filled the shelves with books for sale. Then I’d set sofas and comfy armchairs in nooks and corners, and I’d opened the shop for business.
It had been an instant success, and the shop is busy most days with creatures browsing for books and others seeking advice and mediation. And he’d been right about that, too. I do have a knack for it. And I love it. I love putting my key in the old wooden door’s lock and opening it. I enjoy the early morning stillness when Sig drops me off and we drink coffee and discuss our coming days. Then he’ll leave, and I’ll flip theClosedsign over toOpenand prepare for another day where no one day is the same as another.
I pick up a pile of spell books left by a witch. One of them has a rather ominous stain on the cover. I shelve them, stepping over the feet of a visiting Selkie. I potter about, clearing up, ready to close. The tree twinkles with its fairy lights in the corner, and “2000 Miles” by the Pretenders plays low on the stereo.
I nudge the old barrel that contains wrapped books as treats for the little ones who come in. Then Itskand remove a wallet from the tree branches. One of the bloody piskies has been up to their tricks. I set it on the counter to remind myself to ring one Brian Samuels, who’s wandering St Ives with no idea thathe’s been piskied. The counter is a beautiful piece of driftwood that Sigurd set up for me. If he ever leaves teaching, he’d make a lovely carpenter.
I hear footsteps, and Edwina comes towards me. She holds out her hand imperiously, and I bend to kiss it obediently. “Ma’am, you honour me with your presence,” I say, and she inclines her head as if she hears it all the time. She probably does.
“Thank you, Cary. I will take this news back to my queen. I think we have found a solution. I shall mention your help in glowing terms.”
“Thank you.”
She wafts out, her scent light and flowery.
I turn as there’s a crack, and the king appears, sitting on the counter. “She has a stick so far up her arse you could hang a bauble on it and call her a Christmas tree,” he says solemnly, and my lip twitches.
“Nevertheless, it’s arranged, yes?”
He nods. “I shall tell Wilfred he was right to come to you.”
“Please don’t,” I say gloomily. “He’s already far too convinced of his rightness in everything. He meddled once and now thinks it’s his calling.”
He chuckles. “Well, I shall see you soon, I expect. Are you and Sigurd coming to the yule feast on the moor?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. We’re looking forward to it.”
