“Ah, Hattie,” Rhys said, grinning at her and pouring for her first. “Stop trying to ensorcel me in front of your new betrothed,cariad, or I’ll run off with you.”
“He wouldn’t mind,” she told him in a very loud whisper, then took another sip of her brew.
It made Rhys toss a look over her brassy curls at Elias and frown.
Elias wasn’t even convinced that particular man was capable of a genuine frown and took considerable umbrage at having the first one he’d ever seen directed at him.
He looked around for an ally but found only Libba borrowing an earring from Ruby and looping it through a scarf that she’d taken from Monica, then dangling it over her forehead as a sort of royal wrap in an effect he had to admit looked both foreign and convincing.
“Good?” she said to the other two women, who cooed in encouragement.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Rhys called with a chuckle from his pitcher duties. “Not before I’ve had a chance to do a trick.”
“But he’s already…” Elias began, only to immediately be shushed by Ruby and Errol.
“You, sir!” Rhys boomed at one of Malcolm’s hangers-on while Libba quickly stowed her makeshift disguise. “How would you like to see some magic?”
Rhys produced a rope and a flashing pair of scissors, launching into a diatribe about how he had the power to mend the fibers after they’d been shorn, drawing the attention of some of the other guests, who drifted nearer as he climbed onto a chair to waggle his rope at the group.
Elias blinked, sipping his ale, and tried not to reflect on how odd it was to wander around with scissors in one’s trousers.
“Oh, I know this one,” Malcolm’s friend said, his eyes brightening. “You can buy it in a kit from that shop on the boardwalk. There’s a string inside the rope.”
Rhys hesitated, narrowing his eyes at him. “What shop?” he snapped.
“Miss Persephone’s Oddities and Curiosities,” the man replied, slurring in his enthusiasm. “She sells magic tricks there! This one is in the window. Did you buy it from her?”
“Oh!” said Monica, clapping a cupped hand over her mouth while Ruby simply turned her own lips inward as though she were biting them shut.
“Miss Persephone,” Rhys repeated, every syllable over enunciated and dripping with venom. “Opened a… a shop. And she sells… She… Where is this shop, pray, my good man?”
Errol cleared his throat, ducking his head as he sipped his own ale, but it was too late, Rhys had already spun around and thrown a pointed finger in his direction. “Did you know about this, Errol?”
“Me?” said Errol, blinking with an attempt at guilelessness. “I barely go into town.”
Rhys gave a little snarl, hopping off the chair with his knees so high, he appeared to hover in space for a moment before landing on the ground, as quiet and steady as a cat. “Where is it?” he demanded, prowling toward the exit. “Down toward the grand pavilion? Ohh, I should have known!”
He didn’t wait for an answer, stalking out and slamming the door behind him with a little jingle of the pub’s bell as he went, muttering Welsh expletives under his breath.
“That means a jam jar that has someone’s flatulence sealed inside,” Hattie provided helpfully, hiccupping again and then giving a soft giggle. “Mownt pot jam.That wouldn’t work, would it?”
“Let’s never find out,” Libba said, patting her on the head. “Now find me a mark.”
“What was the other thing you said to Rhys?” Monica asked, tilting her head. “That made him call youcariad.”
“Os gwelwch yn dda,” Hattie answered, enunciating carefully. “Literally it translates to ‘if you see it, good,’ but it just means ‘please.’ And he has always called me ‘cariad.’”
“He has,” Monica acknowledged. “That one means ‘my heart,’ right? He calls all the girls that, except me.”
“What does he call you?” Libba asked curiously.
Monica giggled and sipped her ale. “‘Chwaer.’ It means ‘sister.’ Perhaps he was worried I’d takecariadto heart.”
Libba pursed her lips. “Or perhaps you’re just his favorite.”
“Call him ‘brawd,’” Hattie suggested. “It means ‘brother.’ Even though Rhys is rather narrow.”
“Oh, I remember you!” the same man who’d ruined the rope trick exclaimed, his eyes locking on Hattie. “The girl with all the languages! Can you still do that trick? Five ways to say a thing off the top of your head?”
