The bell over the door rings, and I’m not sure whom I’m expecting except the friend Sasha has found for this little project (and whom she also has a clear crush on), but the adorable little perfidian who bounces in, carrying a giant portfolio, is definitely not it. She’s small, about my size, with vibrant red skin and an enormous set of wings, two extremely cute horns curling back from her temples, and an unmistakable air of enthusiasm. She’s the polar opposite of Sasha in every way, and I can instantly see why Sasha is enchanted with her.
“Hiii!” she chirps at Sasha. “Hiii!” she then chirps at me. “You must be the princess! This is incredibly exciting. My parents met you at the ribbon-cutting ceremony before you got cursed! They said you had thisamazinggown. I like the oneyou’re wearing, though; it’s vintage, right? I love vintage. It’s hard to find stuff that fits me because, you know.” She pauses to flap her wings at us. “But when I do, it’s likejackpot, bingo, everything’s super!”
“Hi,” I say. Sasha is gazing at her rapturously. “I’m Tandy.”
“Oh no,” the perfidian says. “Oughtn’t I call you something like ‘Your Majesty’?”
Somewhere to my left, Bash snorts. “Correctly, it’s ‘Your Highness,’ ” I say. “But here I’m just Tandy, proprietor of Beulah Bonecrusher’s Emporium of Books.”
“Yeah, about that,” the perfidian says. “Have you considered, you know. Rebranding?”
“She can’t,” Sasha says, sounding aghast. “This place has been called Beulah’s for like two hundred years.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t really give off ‘bonecrushing orc bookstore’ vibes,” the perfidian says, glancing at the bluecaps. “It’s really so cute.”
“Shewashalf crushed by a bookcase yesterday,” Sasha says.
“I heard! But that’s, like”—the perfidian waves a hand—“like, too tangential. Beulah’s bonecrushing emporium: Our books will crush your bones. You see?” She makes a face. “Sends the wrong message.” She gives me a triumphant look. “Let’s see…this place ismostfamous for being run by a cursed princess, so…how about The Little Cursed Bookshop?”
“Not likely to steer too many customers in,” Bash says, “if ‘our books will crush your bones’ won’t.”
“Oh!” the perfidian says, spinning around. “I didn’t see you there! You’re the pirate from the barn, right?” She glances at Sasha. “The one all the girls follow about in the hills.”
To his credit, Bash manages not to blush too hard at that. It’s nice to see him taken by surprise for once.
“He certainly is,” I say, raising an eyebrow at him. It is an appealing image, to imagine hordes of teenage girls trailing about the hills after him. Makes him that much less intimidating. Perhaps, eventually, I’ll even get past all the blushing. “But I agree that ‘The Little Cursed Bookshop’ might not be quite the right direction for a rebrand. Which I’m not convinced about anyway.” I pause. I don’t know her name yet. “Shall we do this formally?” I step out from behind the desk and give her a low, courtly curtsy. She looksdelighted. “Tanadelle de Courcy, fourth in line for the throne of the Widdenmar, and yes, cursed proprietor of Beulah Bonecrusher’s Emporium of Books.”
“Amaritha v’Balt,” she says, giving her own low curtsy. “Delighted to make your acquaintance. Sasha’s told meallabout you.”
I glance at Sasha, who’s turned jade green, the draconae equivalent of beet red.
“Sasha’s told me a bit about you,” I say. “She speaks incredibly highly of your art.”
“Oh!” Amaritha giggles. “That’s so super nice. She’s got such a good eye; that’s like the biggest compliment.” Now she’s blushing a bit, too.
“She’s done marvelous work here,” I say, happy to continue the charming direction this conversation has taken. “The third floor alone is a work of art, but she’s helped me clear out the entire store, to make it really warm and welcoming for customers. And she’s essentially invented a new way of displaying merchandise in the window.” And talked various of my suitors into hand-selling my books to otherwise uninterested customers. “I just don’t know what I’d do without her.”
Sasha is now blushing so hard she’s emitting a little steam. I take pity on her. “Why don’t we retire to my room and chat over some tea?” I suggest.
“Okay!” Amaritha chirps. She scoops up the portfolio she’s brought with her, and glances at Bash. “All of us?” she says, a little doubtfully.
“We can’t get rid of him, alas,” I say. “But he does say something helpful on occasion.”
“Perish the thought,” Bash says, agreeably.
Chapter 33
Once we’re situated in my room, fire lit and lamps burning, bluecaps drifting about in an interested fashion, Amaritha seats herself on the floor by the hearth and opens her portfolio. I gasp. Her illustrations are lovely: big, bright, colorful, joyful paintings of flowers, birds, butterflies, dragons, unicorns, manticores…I immediately drop to the floor beside her and start turning leaves, exclaiming with genuine delight over each new piece. Amaritha is undoubtedly talented.
“Okay, but in all seriousness,” she says as she draws one claw gently along the cheek of a painted unicorn, “the inn down the road has renamed itself five times in the last three months; I think you can safely rename your bookstore. Curses and Codexes?”
“Codices,” I murmur.
“Nah, not fun. Bluecaps and, uh…Bookworms?”
“No bookworms that I’ve found yet,” I murmur, suppressing a shudder. I’ve only seen one once, and it was horrifying.
“Yeah, that’s not right. What about…like, just one really compelling word?” She holds her hands up as though framing a sign. “Foxed,” she announces, a little breathlessly.
