Page 26 of The Little Shop of Grand Curiosities

He laughed quietly. “You first, darling.”

Gods, why did I even bother? I should not speak a word to him for the rest of our journey. That would serve him right.

But to my surprise, he was the one who carried on with the conversation, “What about you, Little Butterfly? What is your passion?”

I cast him a withering side glance. “You don’t have to pretend that you care.”

“I’m genuinely curious,” he claimed.

I narrowed my eyes. “You only say that because you know I can’t resist indulging your curiosity.”

He met my gaze, smirking like a demon. “Then why are you resisting, darling?”

I blew out a breath, feeling strangely flustered. “Well… I’m passionate about many things, actually. I think a lot. And read. I tend to my plants—”

“No, no, no. You’re describing the life you have. I’m asking you about the life youdreamof. Do you want to study magic? Do you want to see the world?”

The world. Such a small word. There was not enough of it. There was not enoughinit. There was not enough art to feed my eyes. There were not enough books to soothe my soul. There was not enough magic, music, conversations to be held all night long. At least, there was not enough inmyversion of the world. So perhaps what I really meant was that there was not enough couragein meto experience the full extent of the worldbeyondmy own.

“I dream of… everything,” I sighed, facing skyward. “I want the best parts of my life to be real, not just words on paper. I want to stop feeling so empty.” I uttered this last sentence so quietly that I thought he didn’t hear it. I hoped he didn’t hear it. There was a tremor in my voice too, a fearful hesitance as if to say,If you heard that, please don’t say something mean. It’s been so long since I’ve shared something personal with someone.

For several minutes, neither of us talked, or even moved, and I relaxed, thinking the conversation was over.

But then came a careful, almost shy, “Nepheli?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re not empty. You’re just… unfinished. You haven’t figured out who you want to be yet, and that’s okay. But you will, eventually, in your own time.”

Dumbfounded, I mumbled a timid, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoed flatly. “We should get going.”

“Yes, we should,” I agreed.

Neither of us moved.

“Five more minutes?” Apollo asked.

I only smiled.

9

Apollo

Aplace this familiar should be a kaleidoscope of pretty childhood memories. Small adventures in the hollows of the trees, by the mist-dazed riverside, and by the leafy pixie houses that I used to sit cross-legged on the ground and observe for hours with my little cousin, Isa. Days full of laughter and imagination and possibility, time-bending and delirious with youth.

But all these golden boyhood memories were marred by the events of seven years ago. Now I saw the forest and thought of hunting down leads. I thought of loneliness and regret and things lost to me forever. Hundreds of miles of jittery anticipation: journeys East, fruitless and cold; expeditions West, feeling seasick and exhausted. My whole life was a lightweight stone sinking into deep water.

Gods, my life. What a mess I’d made of it.

I couldn’t feel nostalgia anymore, so I couldn’t really say that I had missed this. I hadn’t missed the reassuring buzz of the cicadas. I hadn’t missed the frothy sunrises of the North, the drowsy greeting of the day. I hadn’t missed sitting in the alcove of the drawing room back home, the windows flung open, the honeyed air whipping inside while I read the morning newspaper, sipping bitter, black tea. I hadn’t missed the solitude of my bedroom, the way rain lashed against the expansive windowpanes during the storm season. I used to cherish that solitude because it was easily shattered. I could just open my door and slip out of it whenever I pleased. People always yearned for solitude until they’d find themselves in places without doors to slip out of.

No, I hadn’t missed anything. And Nepheli next to me, now, all light and beauty, felt more like a part of those distant childhood memories than a part of my present.

It was odd to be here with her like this. My head was heavy. It was full of her. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it at all.

10

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