His expression changes and he blinks at me a time or two. Dropping his gaze, he murmurs, “I shall leave you to take your time, my dear. No hurry at all!”
He usually stays and talks, pointing out books he thinks I might like, even showing me his personal favorites. It is fair to say Master Peter can talk as well as Mistress June can.
But today, he is already gone, busily tidying a display on the front counter beside the till.
An unsettled feeling manifests, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Deep unease follows. The place the wolf marked me begins to tingle, and the tingle soon shifts to a burn.
I very much wish to shove the book back in its place, but it is as though it has been glued to my hand.
“Fine,” I mutter. “I shall buy the damn book.”
Master Peter keeps his back to me, like he is pretending I am not there.
I clear my throat.
He stills and slowly turns, but his eyes remain down. “Take it, Evanthe. Please.” He raises both hands.
“Oh, but I have coin,” I say, fumbling in my coat pocket for my purse.
“A gift,” he says firmly, still not looking up. “Were there any others you liked?”
I blink, confused. “No, thank you. Please, let me pay.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t take your money. Couldn’t.” He bows his head formally.
I stand there undecided for an undue amount of time, confronted and confused.
“Please,” he repeats. It is like he is begging me.
I tuck the book into my deep pocket. “Well… if you’re sure.”
“I am.”
I thank him and take my leave, puzzling over the whole encounter.
As I step outside, Rosie—one of Lord Godfrey’s servants—is passing and nearly bowls me over.
She smiles. “I’m so sorry, Evanthe—” Her words cut off and her smile disappears. She makes the sign of the Goddess and points at me. “Wolf tithe.” Her expression sours. “What are you doing here, still? Get you gone, lest they kill us all!”
I shrink back.
“Wolf tithe!” she cries. There are shocked looks and hushed whispers as the few passing townsfolk stop then stare at me.
“The mark,” Rosie says, voice ringing. “It’s true!”
I press back against the bookshop door, suddenly fearful, as the people begin to gather.
“Marked by a beast,” an old man says.
“Claimed,” another adds.
I hear a young woman with a baby in her arms mutter a prayer.
“She should not be here,” Rosie says, turning to the small gathering. “I say we send her into the forest where she belongs!”
The door to the wool shop bursts open, and Mistress Nina exits, followed by Mistress June.
“What is this nonsense?!” Mistress Nina demands. “You are terrifying the poor lass half to death.”
