“Haven’t you got anything harder thanmead?”
“I don’t drinkalcohol,” someone interrupts.
“Oh, by the eight kingdoms,” I sigh. I leave Bash upstairs to irritate the crowd and chivy Sasha and Amaritha downstairs. I pull open my money box and hand Sasha the wad of cash I’ve made in the last two days. Her eyes widen comically. “Take this to the inn and have Yenny’s trumpeters buy…well, everything. And cups.”
“Ooooh…kay,” she breathes.
“And snacks,” Amaritha adds.
“There should be enough there to cover it. See if you can find out when they’ll let the rabble back in, will you? I can’t have them here all night.”
The girls reappear twenty minutes later, trumpeters in tow, each carrying boxes filled with clinking, sloshing bottles. I direct them all upstairs and then send the girls home, despite their complaints.
“What ifhecomes by to kiss you when I’m not here?” Sasha whines. “I’ve seen nearly all the rest; it wouldn’t be fair!”
“He won’t,” I assure her. “There’s no way.”
“Because what if this one works and we never see you again?” Sasha looks suddenly a little vulnerable.
“We’re coming back first thing tomorrow,” Amaritha says. “First. Thing.”
“Prince Astebaen is not my heart’s desire. His kiss absolutely will not work,” I say, with as much force as possible.
Amaritha and Sasha share a meaningful glance.
“Yeah, probably not,” Sasha says.
“Definitelynot,” I say again.
“You’re going to depress the Barn Pirate so much when you leave,” Amaritha says. “It’s actually kind of tragic how into you he is.”
I feel color flood my cheeks. “Nonsense,” I say. “Go home and get a good night’s rest and…” I pause. “Pray to the great green dragon that I get everyone out of here before they put themselves to sleep with too much drink.”
Amaritha smiles, a little evilly.
“Actually, I won’t pray for that,” Sasha says, a similar expression on her face. “I think you should have a sleepover. Withall of them.”
“Get out,” I say, swatting at them good-naturedly.
“Byeeeee,” they chirp as the door swings shut behind them, and I sigh and lean against the desk. I can already hear the sound of carousing from upstairs.
It’s going to be a long night.
Chapter 38
I n the end, only Driz wound up sleeping on my floor; Yenny was carried out by his trumpeters, and the others managed to stagger out under their own power, except for Calla, who stayed upstairs with me, talking late enough that the first hint of the dawn was creeping in through the darkness by the time we parted ways. We haven’t really had a chance to catch up in years. It was nice to talk to a friend. Bash had vanished at some point, I think supporting some prince or another in his wake, and I threw myself into my conversation with Calla so I wouldn’t have to think about him, or about Amaritha’s pronouncement about him. Somehow, beneath the scents of wine and bacon sandwiches (courtesy of the inn’s kitchens), I could still catch the faint trace of sea salt and sand in the air, long after he had gone and even the owls had gone to sleep.
I went downstairs to my own room after Calla left and dropped heavily into bed, and slept soundly for the three hoursI had to myself before the cat leaped on me and demanded breakfast.
Knowing what is likely coming at some point today—though not before noon, I suspect—I dress more formally than usual, in a dark blue dress with yellow and orange flowers embroidered up and down the full sleeves. I’d stopped putting my hair into braids or buns every day: no princess of the Widdenmar is meant to be seen with her hair down once she reaches her majority, at age thirteen, but I’d found wearing it down, or only pulling some of it back into a braid, was rather freeing. Today, however…I decide it’d be better not to leave myself vulnerable on that front, and spend a little longer than usual putting it up. I haven’t got anything that bespeaks royalty to wear—not a jeweled necklace, not a ring, certainly not a tiara or any sort of sash or chain or medal—though I know it’ll be expected. I slip the bookstore key from my neck and stare at it. It’s really more a lucky charm at this point than anything else. I hang the key—Mrs. Gooch’s key—on a nail by the door and then, feeling suddenly a little vulnerable, dig around in the bowl full of odd little things Bash has left and pull out one of the tiny shells. There’s a hole through it, so I string it on the ribbon and put it back on, under my dress. There; a good luck charm. It won’t be enough for what’s coming, but it’s a start.
I spend the day in a riot of agitation; every footstep outside makes me start, and my heart races every time the bell over the door tinkles, but by the time the temple bells toll three and Sasha and Amaritha come strolling in—hand in hand, I note—nothing has happened.
“We haven’t missed it, have we?” Sasha says, glancing around.
I shake my head.
“The Barn Pirate’s not here anyway,” Amaritha points out. “Hewouldn’t miss it.”
