I have to act, I think.I have to kiss the man who smells like the sea. I take a shallow breath and drop my gaze to his mouth; his perfect lips; the corner of his cheek where the dimple hides. Iraise my free hand and touch the spot where he’ll dimple when he laughs, and he closes his eyes.
I have to act,I repeat to myself.Act.
I lean forward so we’re only inches apart when the chimes over the door ring and the door slams open. I gasp and pull away from him, leaping to my feet, spinning around to see how someone could have gotten through the hex that no less a person than Honeyrose Brambling, most efficient person in the eight kingdoms, laid on my door. Three figures, silhouetted against the bright afternoon sun: two tall, one short. The tallest of the three strides toward me before the doorbell has even stopped tinkling.
“Mother!” I gasp. For it is my mother. And my father. And Honeyrose.
Mother is glaring at me with an expression I recognize too well. “Tanadelle Estrella Amyers de Courcy,” she says, her voice pure iron. “Were you about tokiss that man?”
Chapter 42
Oh, by the great green dragon, I was. Heat floods my face. I’m shaking, and I do the only thing I can think to do to give myself time to compose myself: I curtsy.
“Mother, Father. Honey. I was…” I say, and then, unwilling either to lie or to admit the truth, I stop. “This is Bash. Sebastian,” I offer instead. “He’s a sailor.”
“Ishe?” my mother says, in a tone that conveys every opinion she has about (a) sailors and (b) men caught with their lips scant inches from her daughter.
I hear heavy clomping overhead; Sasha and Amaritha are running downstairs. I don’t blame them; I wouldn’t want to miss this show, either. If I weren’t the main attraction, that is.
“Is this where youlive?” Mother says, sounding utterly aghast. She glares around, and I can’t help but follow her gaze. Up until this moment I’d thought I’d gotten the bookstore looking pretty good, but suddenly every dust bunny, every crumbling book,every damp patch and exposed brick, leaps out at me. Has it ever felt thissmallinside? I shift in my clothes. They suddenly feel very tight. Mother glances at me, and her lips tighten. “And what are youwearing?”
I take a breath, unsure how I’m going to answer, but she shakes her head and carries on speaking.
“Aestaeben warned me,” she’s saying, “but I couldn’t really believe it.”
Above us, at the top of the stairs, I see Sasha and Amaritha appear, eyes huge.
“It’s sotinyin here,” Mother finally says.
“It’s not…” I begin.
“Andcluttered,” she continues. “We must arrange to have all these books cleared away immediately, Rothal,” she says, turning to my father. “Honeyrose, take note: We’ll have the books removed and some proper furniture brought in immediately. And more rugs. And hire a plasterer.”
“No!” I gasp.
Mother turns her head, slowly, and takes me in,reallytakes me in: my old and faded clothes, my hair, half undone and cascading down my back. I don’t look remotely like the royal daughter she raised, and we both know it. I’m inbreeches, for the love of the great green dragon. Inpublic.
“You can’t,” I continue, a little abashed. “It’s my bookshop. It was left in my care. And so were the books. They stay.”
“Yourbookshop,” she repeats. The emphasis she puts on both “your” and “bookshop” conveys a lifetime of judgment.
“I live in the back,” I offer. “I have a very cozy room and a lovely little garden.”
“A room,” she repeats. “In the back.”
“It’s really very nice,” I say, softly.
“And this…person?” Mother says, indicating Bash with a lift of her nose. “I suppose he lives in the outhouse.”
“No,” I say. “He just visits.”
“Is he part of the curse?” my father says, sounding a little less judgmental and more confused than my mother.
“Not…really,” I say. “Though he is cursed.”
“Ah,” Honey says, the first word out of her mouth since they stepped into my bookshop.
“Where does he stay?” Mother says. Her voice has a new edge to it.
