“Good point,” Sasha says, and then the two vanish upstairs to go do whatever it is they’re going to do upstairs. Hold hands and talk about their feelings, I presume. I hope Sasha’s had her first kiss by now.
The door chimes again about an hour later, and this time it’s Bash. “I’m not too late, am I?”
I sigh. “No, you haven’t missed anything.”
“There’s a massive crowd outside the inn, so I assumed I hadn’t,” he says, then looks me up and down.
I groan. “The only thing that’s happened so far is young love, exploring their feelings upstairs.”
“Adorable,” he says, settling into his usual place on the staircase.
“It could be hours,” I warn him.
“I can wait.”
“What’s the point?”
He shrugs. “Each one of these kisses has been more interesting than the last. By that logic…” He stops and eyes me again. “Also, you look different today.”
I smooth my skirt down. “It’ll be easier with Astebaen if I’m dressed…a little more formally.”
“Easier,” he repeats, his question implicit in the word.
“You see, Astebaen is…” I begin, and then stop. “Maybe it’s better if you just see for yourself.”
“Whoisthis guy?” he says. “I don’t know anything about the palatinate of Astebal. I’ve never even met an Astebani. We tend to stay well away from the island. They have an enthusiastic navy.”
“They’re very formal,” I say.
He snorts. “More formal than a prince who travels with six fanfare trumpeters?”
“Significantly.”
He pauses. “Are younervous?” He sounds almost incredulous at the idea.
“I am, actually,” I say.
“Fishballs, Tandy, why? What have you got to be nervous about? Do you…” He stops. “You don’t think it’ll actually work this time, do you?”
“No, not at all,” I rush to say. “It’s not that.”
He tilts his head, considering me. “I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see, then.”
I gesture broadly toward the bookcases. “You could pass the time by reading up on Astebani culture,” I suggest.
“Too much work,” he says, relaxing back into his usual half slouch.
“Honestly, how did you ever get by as a pirate captain with that attitude?”
“I may have been a terrible pirate captain,” he says.
“Captain of a rowboat; crew of three oysters and a bucket.”
“And a seagull,” he agrees. “My first mate.”
“That’s Sasha’s theory, anyway,” I say. “That you were bad at it.”
He shrugs. “There you go.”
