“No.”
“Will you at least tell me why you’re here now?”
He’s silent, and then looks at me, and I almost take a stepback at the sadness in his eyes. “You’re in here, and they’re all out there. You shouldn’t have to be alone.”
My blood feels like it’s bubbling in my veins; I feel suddenly, wholly unprepared for the emotions running riot inside me. He’s handsome, which throws me off; we flirt, which is fun, if frustrating. He takes my things and teases me, which is irritating. But I don’t know how to feel when he’s just being…gentle. Like a friend. It mixes everything up, leaving my feelings in a muddle. I swallow.
“It was very kind of you to break in this morning so I wouldn’t have to be alone during the grand reopening,” I say, directing my gaze out the window. “Mygrand reopening,” I amend.
I reach out and take his hand, and lace my fingers through his. His hand is warm, and he closes it on mine.
“Thanks,” I say.
Chapter 37
The next morning, before opening the shop, I sit down and write a letter on my lovely new stationery. I’d sold most of it, but I’d kept a box for myself. Before falling asleep last night, while trying to find a way to thank Sasha and Amaritha for their help in transforming the bookshop, I’d had an interesting thought. This morning, I’d woken to find it a fully formed idea.
In the end, I write six letters, each carefully attuned to the sensibilities of their recipients, calling in favors I’m not sure anyone owes me. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last few months, it’s that you won’t get anything if you don’t ask for it. As a royal, I’d never had a need or a want go unmet, usually before I’d so much as felt the need or the want in question. But here, in the bookstore—mybookstore, I correct myself—I have to think, anticipate, plan. Ask. It’s…it’snice, I think. Every day has a shape to it, every challenge an opportunity. Problems have solutions; I just have to find them. I fold the letters and slip them intoenvelopes, and seal them with my royal seal, so there can be no doubt who they’re from and are unlikely to go ignored.
When Sasha appears, I hand the letters to her and ask her to take them to the Inn of the Six Princes. All six remain, even Calla, who told me yesterday that she wants “to see this thing through to the end.” Yenny has been extremely generous in asking his trumpeters to help me out in the bookstore when I need it, explaining that he couldn’t leave meon my own, great green dragon forfend. Only, I’ve been careful to tell him, if they don’t mind. Oddly, they never seem to mind. Perhaps attracting customers to my shop, or getting books down from high shelves, is more fun than whatever Yenny generally has them doing—trailing after him, or just ahead of him, announcing his presence.
The lovely thing about my grand reopening is that it seems to have finally ended whatever concerns the locals had about patronizing my store. I have a steady stream of customers all day, some from as far afield as Crofar, and even if they don’t buy a book, most of them walk out with one of my canvas bags; my stock is nearly depleted by the end of the afternoon and I’ve turned a nice little profit to boot.
I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself when I shoo everyone away and flip the rock over to “closed.” I should know better. Someone knocks almost immediately, and when I open the door, I find Sasha, Amaritha, Bash, and all six princes staring at me, wide-eyed.
“Oh no,” I say.
“My darling Tanadelle,” Driz says, loudly but regretfully, “the day we’ve dreaded is finally at hand.”
I take a fortifying breath.Astebaen.
“Is he here?”
“They’rehere,” Amaritha says.
“At the inn,” Yenny supplies.
“The other princes all got kicked out!” Sasha blurts, grinning like a manticore. That is to say, toothily, and with great enthusiasm. “They’re laying down rugs or deep-cleaning or something! They say they can’t stay there until it has been”—she lowers her voice significantly—“purged. There are so many of them! They all have brooms and dustpans!”
“I wasin the middle of a meal,” Bel says, sounding extremely put out. He must be, to admit to dining. He and his countrymen put little value in such piddling mortal concerns as sleeping and eating.
“We haven’t anywhere else to go,” Ternis adds, a little plaintively. “No home to call our own in a time of great need.”
“You can come in, but you can’t allsleephere,” I say, but I step aside and let them troop in.
“I did offer my barn,” Bash murmurs as he walks by, and I ignore the way the scent of him makes my heart race. “I’m sure farmer Magel wouldn’t mind.” How can he make that sound so suggestive, when I know for afactthat farmer Magel is ninety-three years old and that he himself sleeps in a drafty hayloft?
“You’re a menace,” I whisper to him. “Everyone up to the third floor. There’s not enough room down here for all of us.”
“What if he comes here…tonight?” someone asks.
I don’t much fancy getting my seventh and final kiss in front of such a large audience, especially given the identity of the kisser, but I’d rather get it over with as soon as possible. “If he does, we’ll…figure something out,” I say. “Sasha, will you run and ask your mother to send…well, any mead she’s got.”
“Wine, please,” someone says.
“Beer for me.”
“Pear cider, but only if it’s dry.”
