“You have a dangerous secret. You stink of it. And as one of the few in Leafshire Cove who can sense that sort of business, I am responsible for finding out how to protect my fellow townsfolk.”
My heart is pounding still and my blood is hot. I’m just stirred up enough to blurt out some truth.
“Fine, wizard. Against my will, I was betrothed to a female vampire named Valeria. She’s not the good sort.”
“I’ve heard of the vampirebetrothals. Why is this a problem?”
I flatten my hands on the smooth grain of the counter, spreading my fingers and trying to breathe more evenly. “For several reasons. One is the gossip. She might hear tell about my so-called romance. She is the jealous type. All vampires are. Including me. Two is the fact that Colette does, in fact, seem to like me.” I meet his knowing gaze. “Three? Well, three, you already know quite well, I’m sure.”
“That you love Colette.”
My heart surges like a rogue wave, and I clear my throat.
“Aye. I don’t want to feel this way,” I admit, “but it is what it is. I won’t act on it, but aye. It’s a problem. All of this is a problem.”
Grumlin nods and pours out some ale for one of his serving lads, who then brings the mug to a table near the crackling hearth. Four folks are rolling dice and laughing.
“Denying this isn’t going to make it go away. Neither you nor Colette deserves to live a lesser life because of this Valeria person. Tell me about your family.”
And for some reason, I do. I tell him about how I was neglected, outcast. About Mother telling me of Valeria and then leaving. About how I haven’t had aconversation with my brothers in years, despite living in the same town.
“They fear me because of Mother and Valeria. I don’t truly blame them.”
Grumlin makes a noise that sounds like he fully disagrees, but he doesn’t push that fact.
“You’re not alone now, Archer,” he says, his voice solid and his eyes clear. “Halvard and Rychell are your friends. Any friend of theirs is a friend of Leafshire Cove. That’s how it works here. Tully is your friend. She told me that Colette plotted with Cyrus and Kaya to persuade her to finagle the Snowlight ritual so you were Colette’s partner.”
My mouth falls open. “Did Tully agree?” I almost laugh.
“She did. And you’ll play along like you didn’t know, right? Or Tully will kick my arse into next season.”
I chuckle despite the weight of my worries. “I can’t though,” I say, sadly. “If Valeria?—”
“You’re not listening, vampire. You take that Colette of yours and you two enjoy one another. Life is short, even for us, if you look at it in a certain light. Lonely years pass like glaciers. The Cove folks will defend you against this foul vampire and anything elsethat stands against you. You are not alone anymore if you don’t wish to be. Well, really, even if you wish to be alone, you won’t be. Not in this small town.”
The twinkle in his eye tells me he knows this like he knows the back of his hand. I’m not alone. They’ll defend us?
“But she could kill you. Anyone.”
“She can try. She won’t manage much with Tully and me on your side. Take courage, Archer,” he says while my mind is whirring. “Claim that love you feel or at least give it a try. This is exactly what life is meant for. Safety is its own kind of death. We shouldn’t hold it so close that we forget to breathe deep of the world’s pleasures.”
A warmth springs to life inside me, melting the cold I hadn’t realized had solidified there over the years of distancing myself.
I do love Colette. I’ve been a fool about it, thinking I could deny my feelings. It’s the most powerful sensation I’ve ever experienced, and now that I am owning up to it, I don’t know how I ignored it as long as I did.
I reach across the counter to set my hand on Grumlin’s. He gives me a smile that I feel to my bones.
“Thank you, friend,” I say.
My throat is actually tight. I didn’t expect this—any of this—when I came to the book faire. But can I truly act on this revelation?
Chapter 17
Colette
Archer arrives promptly at nine in the morning, ready to write. There’s an awkwardness between us, like a fog that refuses to clear despite my attempts at jokes, the inn’s delivery of scones and tea, the inn’s opening of the window to shake us up with frigid air, and Mossette’s happy pouncing among the beams of sunlight streaming through the—now thankfully closed—window.
“I see this part of the scene as elevating the tension,” Archer is saying. He glares at my wall, tapping his quill on his chin and distracting me with how handsome he is until I don’t recall the story element we are discussing at all—as usual. “The criminals upstairs arenearly finished with their dark deed and, hmm, maybe they can shout threats down to our couple.”
