“Well, no, but that doesn’t mean…I don’t know.”
“Just promise me you’ll ask,” I say.
Sasha blushes. “Fine, I promise.”
I lead Sasha upstairs, to the third floor. I don’t have any way to thank her for her months of hard work and moodiness and friendship, not really, but at least I can do this.
The seven princes are arranged along the walls, each holding a bundle. Some look a little more keen than the others, but every one of them has been willing to participate. Yenny and Driz have even been eager.
“What…is…happening?” Sasha whispers, as she gazes at them, eyes wide.
I turn to her and deliver one of my deeper curtsies. “Si’masasha Samish’et, in recognition of your hard work these last five months, and in keen awareness that you have an important year-end ball on the horizon and nothing to wear for it, the seven princes of the realm—and one cursed princess—would each like to give you agift, in the hope that you will be able to attend this ball—and perhaps many to come—in full confidence and, uh, joy.”
“Joy?” she repeats. I nod, and then turn and bow to Driz.
Driz steps forward and hands Sasha his bundle. Her cheeks flush dark green with emotion as she unrolls it: a bolt of pure black velvet, the finest in the eight kingdoms.
“Oh,” she murmurs.
Hamish steps forward next and gives her his gift: eight yards of black lace. “Tatted by the scions of the Two Mountains,” he explains, before stepping back.
Yenny’s gift is pure-black wool.
“I’m sorry not to give you wool from my own Blues,” he says, “but their wool is inconveniently sky blue. My kingdom is also deservedly well-known for its midnight-black sheep, however, so I had some sent up.”
“Oh my green dragon goddess,” Sasha breathes.
Bel gives Sasha a vial of one of the perfumes that the city-state of the Five-Fold Night is famous for. “It’s called Ossuary,” he says. “Heart notes of bergamot and dust. Inspired by the works of the Great Poet himself.”
“Oh,” she gasps. Perfumes from the Five-Fold Night are unfathomably valuable.
Ternis steps forward next. “A gift from my people,” he says grandly, and hands her a single, perfect jet stone. “From the shores of the Sea of Endless Light.”
Calla smiles. “A Mezothin dagger,” she says, handing it to Sasha by its black enamel haft. “A symbol of eternal respect and friendship.”
“Gosh,” Sasha says, looking close to tears as she accepts it. The only non-Mezothin I know who’s ever received one as a giftis my own Honeyrose, and she won’t tell me what she did to earn it.
Finally, Astebaen, who bows and, with color in his cheeks, steps forward to offer her a ceremonial Astebani belt—black, of course. He bows again and then, clearly overcome, steps back without offering a word.
Sasha, tears glimmering in her eyes, turns to me and smiles. “How did youdoall this?”
“You delivered the letters for me,” I say, smiling back. “About a week ago.”
“Honestly, Tandy, this is, like,life-changing.” She throws her arms around me and hugs me, hard; she’s a big dracone, even if she’s still only fifteen, and it’s a bone-crunching hug.
“You changed my life,” I say, hugging her back. “It’s the least I could do.”
Chapter 41
So, that’s the end of the seven princes. They’ve come by, they’ve kissed me, and my curse remains unbroken. I have, at least, been able to call in a favor from each of them—a favor that no one really owes me, beyond what we might give each other in friendship. And I’ve been able to repay Sasha to some small degree for all she’s done for me. All that’s left to do now is wait for whatever might come next.
Despite that, I feel as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I keep the shop closed for the rest of the day and put it back together without help. I change into the oldest clothes I can find, those that seem best for a day spent cleaning and tidying: soft breeches, an ancient shirt, and a gray wool vest embroidered with yellow flowers. Bash’s paper birds are still fluttering about the shop, so I corral them into my room, where they flit about the ceiling beams. The Astebani queen’s words have been echoing in my mind for hours:What will my mother think?The question isn’t if she comes, but when. I have no doubt the Astebanis sentmy parents a message immediately, and I sincerely doubt they’ll wait until Honey has found a sorcerer. No, now that the princes have failed, they’ll make their way up here to try to sort out the problem themselves. Astebanis don’t mess about; that letter would have gone out as quickly as possible after the final kiss, and—when motivated—my parents can travel fast. I’d better set my bookstore to rights, and quickly.
I distribute the Astebani rugs about the shop—one in my room, one beneath the desk, one by the door, and one in the center of each story above me. They’re each a work of art, and of almost incalculable value, but the Astebani would consider it an insult if I didn’t put them to practical use.
I get the bookcases back into their original spots with the help of a heavy-object spell, though it takes about an hour’s practice to get it right; nevertheless, the result is good, and leaves me feeling extremely pleased with myself. The books, too, I can spell back into place and then re-hex, to ensure nothing falls on the unwary customer (or unwillingly kissed princess). They can be deliberately removed by someone browsing, but that’s it. They shouldn’t even tip to the side, if I got the spell right.
Finally, I restore all my personal effects to my desk: my quills, notebooks, ledger, money box, stationery, and the little clay dragon Amaritha’s friends made for my reopening. I moved it from the window to stand in a place of honor on my desk. I step back, admire my work, then realize I’m caked in dust—how can one now meticulously clean bookshop generate so much dust?—and take myself to my room for a quick bathe and a turnip. The door chimes just as I’m retying my vest and I sigh, knowing the door is locked. Only one person seems to be able to get in and out regardless of the locks on my door.
