“Out,” I say.
He laughs. “No need to be embarrassed, Beulah Bonecrusher; I’ve lived shipboard for years and seen more crammed into less.”
“It’sTanadelle,” I say, severely.
“Bless you,” he answers.
“I haven’t sneezed. That’s myname.”
“Are you sure?”
“Honestly,” I begin, “this is just too much—”
“Is that Tanadelle Bonecrusher or Beulah Tanadelle?” he continues, unperturbed. “They’re both marvelously compelling, it must be said. I’ve always loved a polysyllabic name. Tendenterious Caiaphon. Alyminousan lo Gantrapal,” he says, his voice compellingly, annoyingly deep as he intones the names of two infamous privateers of the last reign. “Delightful,” he concludes.
I point at the second stack of books. “Neither.”
“Intriguing,” he says, and scoops the stack up as though it weighs nothing.
“Out,” I repeat. He laughs, his voice deep and rich andirritatingly sonorous, and moves out of the room, ducking to get through the little doorway.
Keep private apartments locked at all times,I think to myself.Must make a note of that.
I lock the door behind myself and follow him out to the main shop. He’s dropped the second stack on my desk next to the first stack.
Get a table for customers to examine potential purchases, rather than using my desk,I add to my list. I glance around. There’s no room for a table.Clear room for table.
He turns to me and draws a breath, and I hear Sasha’s heavy tread moving overhead. After a moment, she appears on the stairway. “Tandy,” she begins, then spots the man. “Oh,” she says. “You have a, um, customer?”
“Ah, it’sTandyBonecrusher,” the man says. “Has a certain ring to it.”
“Her surname’s de Courcy,obviously,” Sasha supplies, not remotely helpfully. “NotBonecrusher.”
I feel the fire moving back into my cheeks. It would seem he hadn’t known who I am. Despite my initial suspicions about the man, something inside me twists a little at the idea that he might just have been flirting for the sake of flirting. That’s not something I can remember ever having happened before. No one’s ever not known who I am. Not before Mrs. Gooch, anyway.
His brow knits in unmistakable confusion. “You must hate your parents,” he says to me, “them naming you after the princess like that.”
“Sheisthe princess,” Sasha says, her voice dripping with disdain. I shoot her a look thatclearlymeansStop talking, stop it this instant, but she blithely ignores it. “Just got here two daysago. She’s cursed to never leave the bookstore until…” She looks at me inquiringly. “You get kissed by your true love, I think?”
“Sadly, nothing quite so prescriptive,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.
“My most exquisite apologies, Your Honor,” the man says, and then steps into the most elaborate courtly bow I have ever seen outside an actual royal ballroom.
Then he stands up and grins that big, toothy grin at me. “No wonder you looked so put out when I first came in. You must have thought I was taking the absolute piss with all that about looking to help a friend break a curse.”
“I’m not sure you’re not still,” I say, trying to scowl. His merriment is infectious.
“Only a little. I am trying to break a curse, but it is truly my own.”
“Oh. Well.” I look at Sasha for a moment, who is staring at me with wide eyes. “I couldn’t get much out of those books, but maybe they’ll be more helpful for you.”
“Maybe,” he says, his smile fading as he regards them. “I suppose I’ll just…look at them, then, shall I?”
“I went through them all pretty carefully last night. What kind of curse is it? Maybe I saw something that might help.”
For the first time, I see his mask slip, just for a moment. Then his devil-may-care grin, and its accompanying dimple, are firmly back in place. “Oh, it’s an absolute doddle,” he says. “Fear of water.”
“You’re cursed to be afraid of water?” I repeat. “Didn’t you say—well, imply—that you’re a sailor?”
