Vivienne gave an approving nod.Never trust the mystery stew.
She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she started eating. As she shoveled potatoes onto her fork, she made a mental note to eat proper meals instead of grazing like she always had. Her mother used to call her ‘hummingbird’—never eating much at a time, always flitting from one thing to the next. It had been an endearing nickname, or an indictment, depending on her mother’s mood. Her stomach no longer a hollow pit, her thoughts returned to the real issue at hand.
“You don’t think Montaghue would actually evict Briar and me, do you?”
Lewis wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Technically, they’d be within their rights.” His frown deepened. “Whether theywould… that’s harder to say.”
Vivienne tapped her fork absently against her plate. “With my salary, I can’t afford more than a hovel.”
Lewis took a slow sip of ale. “Before you start looking for real estate, let’s see how the audience with the King goes tomorrow.”
“Ugh,tomorrow,” she groaned, slumping over and burying her face in her hands. “I still can’t believe our options were tomorrow or six weeks from now.”
A voice, smooth as polished glass, cut through the air. “Options for what?”
Vivienne didn’t need to look up to know who it was.Bianca Kopfkino.Vivienne lifted her mug to her lips, pretending to drink to avoid speaking.
Bianca looked wildly out of place in The Pelican. With porcelain skin, a lace parasol, and impossibly arranged chocolate-brown curls, she looked more suited for an art salon than a dockside tavern. Her mint-green dress, tailored to perfection, made her green eyes gleam like gemstones—eyes currently fixed on Lewis.
Lewis looked like he wanted to disappear into the floorboards. He cleared his throat. “Uh… options for when I’m going to the barber.”
Bianca ran a delicate hand through his hair, her lace glove catching on a stray tendril. “I think it looksgreat,” she purred.
Vivienne nearly spit out her ale.
Lewis locked up, his entire body going rigid. “Hah… thanks,” he said, his laugh forced and too high-pitched.
Bianca, oblivious to—or enjoying—his discomfort, continued. “I heard about your promotion to Assistant Royal Botanist. Congratulations!”
Lewis gave a tight-lipped smile. “Yes. Severalyearsago. But… thank you.”
“I’ve been an Assistant Art Steward for a little over a year,” Bianca chirped. “Followed in my parents’ footsteps—legacy and all. You understand, Banner.”
Vivienne took another long sip.
“I’ve been working on the most exquisite portrait restoration project?—”
Vivienne set down her mug with a clunk. “Oh? So you actually doyour ownwork now?”
Lewis kicked her under the table.
Vivienne winced.Worth it.
Bianca pretended not to hear. “It’s a tableau on the Isle of the Gods of Velorien stripping Malcari of his physical form and banishing him to the Everdark.” She sighed, dreamy. “Once it’s finished, you must come see it, Lewis.”
“Sure…” Lewis took the reins of the conversation and changed direction. “So, what brings you into The Pelican?”
“Well,” Bianca batted her impossibly long lashes, “I was hoping to run into you.”
His voice cracked. “Me?”
“Of course.” Her smile was all sugar. “I wanted to ask you if you’d like to go to the Harvest Moon Festival together.”
Lewis panicked. “I… I think Viv and I are going together.”
Bianca’s smile vanished. She cut a glare toward Vivienne, green eyes flashing with thinly veiled contempt. “Oh, I see.”
Lewis sputtered, trying to course-correct. “I mean—nottogether-together—friends together.”
