“Ah, yes.” I screw my eyes and lips up and take on a deep voice with a Kingstown accent. “Almost time to tie up loose ends, isn’t it, Bludger?”
Archer chuckles. “Maybe a touch less theatrical, but yes, that’s the idea.”
“Our characters could smell fire?”
“Yes! I love that.”
“People about to be burned alive. You love that.”’
He doesn’t notice my raised eyebrow and wry look and is clasping his hands, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“I do,” he says wickedly. “What’s a story without fear? Boring, that’s what.”
“Well, this isn’t a rom-com,” I concede, “so I guess you’re right on that one.”
He wiggles his eyebrows at me and pens a few lines on our draft. “What do you think?” he asks as he hands it over.
The ink glistens in the morning light. “It’s good. I like that bit here.”
We go back and forth about the dialogue, me adding humor and him adding scene details like the scent of what might be pitch and the sound of doors slamming.
“We are reading this piece tonight. Here at the inn.”
“What?” Archer stares at me.
“We need one last strong reading to draw the crowds to the Snowlight festival.”
“Colette, last time?—”
“I refuse to let negative people keep me down. I can deal with critique from the audience.” I want to add that this time, I swear I won’t be found weeping like a ninny in the alley, but I’m trying very hard to value my emotions, both good and bad. I’m not a ninny for feeling sad. Maybe if I keep repeating that to myself, I will eventually believe it.
“All right,” Archer says.
“Will you join me?”
He bites his lip with one fang and looks at Mossette, who has curled up in a patch of sunlight. “I’d rather not.”
“That’s okay. I can handle it. There will be a sizable crowd regardless because it’s amateur music night.”
“What?” The whites of his eyes show completely around his irises like a spooked horse.
I snicker. “I decided to hold an amateur music night once a season so those learning instruments and singing can workon their skills with a crowd.”
Archer grimaces like someone who ate some bad soup.
“Yes, it won’t be pleasant the entire time. But that’s good! We’ll be helping the young ones with their musical goals and the old ones start something fresh and fun.”
“First off,we? And secondly, I didn’t realize you were such a patron of the arts.”
“I’m a supporter of everything wonderful,” I say, spreading my arms.
“Everything?” His voice lilts up at the end.
I nod. “Yep.”
“Like horses?”
“Definitely.”
