“Something like that,” he says, breezily. “Didn’t I say it was a doddle?”
“I think it’s more like a cruel irony,” Sasha says, seriously.
“Yes, well, there you have it,” he says. “Any helpful tips?”
“You might need the lips of a prince,” I suggest. “They have very potent kisses, I’ve learned. The more good-of-heart the prince, the more potent the curse-breaking power of his kiss.” I sigh. “At least, that was the scholarship a hundred and fifty years ago. None of these”—I wave a hand over the books—“was published more recently than that.”
“Any princes make their way here, I’ll give it a go,” he says. “Anything else?”
“Sasha’s right; it sounds like an ironic curse. There’s a whole book about that,” I say, moving closer to the book—and therefore him—before thinking better of it and redirecting myself to the other side of the desk. “Here it is.” I pull the book I’m looking for from the stack and hand it to him. “Though yours seems…fairly significant. This book mostly seems to deal in little curses, like if you’re afraid of spiders and then are cursed to see them every time you step outside.”
“Wait,” Sasha says suddenly. “I know who you are.”
He smiles at her, a lazy grin that doesn’t seem to have any effect on her whatsoever despite making my stomach twist. “Do you, then.”
She grins back at him. “We all talk about you at school. Yeah, I know who you are. You live in ol’ Mimsey Magel’s barn.” She smiles smugly, then gasps and leans forward. “But, like,howdo you live?” Sasha asks him. “If you’re afraid of water. What do youdrink? What happens if it rains? Seriously, how are you stillalive?”
“It’s worse the more water it is,” he says, his voice light. “A little water seems to cause a little tremor, but it’s nothing more than you’d feel walking the masts on a still day.” He glances at meas though I have any idea how frightening such a thing might or might not be, and I raise my eyebrows. I don’t know many princesses who walk masts on any day, still or otherwise. “You know,” he adds. “Manageable. The more water it is, the worse the fear.”
“But like, howmuchis more?” Sasha says. “What about when it rained the other night? What about a puddle? For us, that isn’t much water, but for a hedgehog, that’s a lot.”
“Good thing I’m not a hedgehog.”
“It’s relative to your size, then?” Sasha continues. I shoot her a look. “What?” she says. “I’m just trying to understand. The worst curse I ever got was to spill on myself whenever I wore white.”
Both the cursed sailor and I glance at her outfit, and she rolls her eyes at us.
“Black iscool. I wear black so I don’t just look like everyone else, you know? I broke that dumb spilling curse when I was eleven.”
“I think we can safely presume that it’s relative to his size,” I say, hoping to head this tangent off at the pass.
“It does sound horrible, if you’re a sailor,” Sasha adds. “To be afraid of water. Like, the more water, the more afraid you are.”
“It’s inconvenient, yes.”
“Oh!” Sasha gasps. “Is that why you’re in Little Pepperidge?”
“There’s water in Little Pepperidge,” I say, mystified.
“It’s the furthest point from any significant body of water in the entire country,” Sasha says. “We’re like,proudof that. There’s a plaque in the town square. I had to memorize all that stuff for my civics class when I was ten.”
“You took civics when you were ten?” the cursed sailor asks.
“I know, right?” She rolls her eyes.
“Is that why you’re here?” I ask, turning to him. “Water proximity?” Lack thereof, anyway.
He shrugs. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“Yes, but what do you do when it rains?” Sasha breaks in, undeterred.
“Well, interestingly enough, the curse seems to relate tobodies of water,” he says. “So even rain, collectively, doesn’t seem to count. Dew and mist and droplets are uncomfortable but fine. I haven’t tried it out on snow yet, so that’ll be interesting.”
“But puddles and like, cups of water? Pools? Streams? Waterfalls?”
He nods. “Exactly. To varying degrees of discomfort.”
“So a cup of water…?”
