I wind up eating a roll for dinner and going to bed in my clothes, only loosening the ties that keep my vest closed with my good hand, and feeling very sorry for myself.
“What is it with tragic romances and this town?”
I spin around. The first book club—which, Sasha has admitted, is called by its participants “The Coven of Conviviality”—is tonight, and I’ve been upstairs making final preparations. Carefully, using my bandaged hand sparingly. Since Sasha’s at school, I’d turned the stone to “closed,” and yet, somehow, the pirate is here, upstairs, staring at the “tragic romances” bookcase. I will my heart to stop hammering in my chest and turn away, pretending disinterest.
“Oh, bother. Come to steal another teacup?”
“I heard something interesting was happening today and didn’t want to miss the fun.” He’s holding a copy ofBy Firelight We Fall, a classic of the tragic romance genre, in one hand.
“Put that back,” I say, glancing at him. “I’m hoping to sell it tonight, and I won’t be able to if you pinch it.” I pause. “And I haven’t heard about any more princes, so you’re out of luck on that count.”
He shrugs and sets the book on the “chickens” shelf.
I cough and nod pointedly toward the correct shelf. He leans against the bookcase and smiles at me without moving the book. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I was busy ensuring that you didn’t make off with my property.”
“Is it reallyyourproperty, though? Aren’t you cursed to stay here for some limited period of time, after which it’ll revert to her heirs? Or the landlord or the state—that is, if the old lady didn’t leave a will.”
I find myself staring at him, ever so slightly taken aback.
“Or so I hear,” he says.
“She handed me a key.Thekey. To the shop. In front of witnesses. I’ve been told that’s a strong argument in any court of law for the passing of property in an intestate parcel.”
“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
I groan. “What do you want?”
“Just looking for a bit of a diversion. I dropped by hoping that another prince might have shown up, but a gaggle of mead-drunk women talking about how much they fancy…” He picks upFirelightand flips through it. “How much they fancy Farmel Frothering, illegitimate son of Lord Fantal Frothering the First, dead in a fire with no legitimate offspring…tall, dark, and angsty, sounds like pretty good fun. They’re over at the inn, by the way, making eyes at your ridiculous prince for a bit before they come over.”
When he puts it like that,Firelightdoes sound ridiculous. It is ridiculous. But it’s also a great read. I myself have read it several times.
“So you’re what, going to join the Lord Mayor’s book club?” I say, crossing my arms and doing my best to arch an eyebrow at him. Well, trying to cross my arms. Doing so makes my wrapped, burned hand brush against my body, which hurts, so I drop my arms again.
“Think they’ll have me?” he asks.
I have no doubt they’d bedelightedto have him, but I saynothing. He is, as always, wearing tight breeches and a billowing shirt, open just a tiny bit too far down his chest. His hair is tied back neatly at the nape of his neck, but there’s quite a lot of it. Surely all that hair must get in his way on board a ship?
“You haven’t explained how you got in. I locked up before I came up here, and the store was empty before that,” I say, willing myself not to think about what he’d look like on the deck of a ship, hair caught in the wind. That’s much too distracting. And utterly irrelevant.
“And I didn’t hear you come up the stairs,” I add, a little petulantly.
“I can’t go telling youallmy secrets, now, can I?”
“You haven’t told meanyof your secrets,” I point out.
He puts a hand to his heart and affects the expression of a man mortally wounded. “Why, my dear princess, you know my deepest and most terrible secret.”
“That you’re afraid of water? Please.” I snort. “You told Sasha and me that within moments of meeting us.”
“I was taken by your beauty. I could hardly control myself.”
I roll my eyes. “For heaven’s sake.”
“Perhaps I was overwhelmed by the depth of the angsty teenager’s ironic detachment and felt compelled to try to connect with her by laying the contents of my innermost self before her.”
I smile, despite myself. “If you’re finished, I’d be grateful if you could see yourself out, given that you saw yourself in so easily. If you’re serious about coming back for the book club, it starts at half seven.”
