Page 73 of The Little Shop of Grand Curiosities

“I didn’tcometo Thaloria,” I bristled. “Youbrought me here. Flung over your shoulder, remember?”

Apollo loosened a breath between his teeth. “Right,” he gritted out. “Look about that… Earliest ship for the South leaves tomorrow morning.”

The ship. Of course. Gods, where was my head today? I was supposed to be on my way home, not arguing in the middle of the street with this heartless brute of a man.

“Oh,” I mumbled. In truth, I felt far from disappointed, but I still had enough pride not to show it.

“Are you okay with staying one more night with me at the Palace?”

“The Palace,” I echoed, deadpan and unblinking, as I gestured at the dreaming spires in the distance. “ThatPalace?”

“Yes, Little Butterfly,” Apollo sighed impatiently.

“I—I can’t. You want me to meet the Queen? Looking like that?” I glanced down at my exhausted dress, greened and muddied around the hem from our journey.

“We’re not that formal with each other, really,” Apollo reassured, rubbing a hand at the nape of his neck. “But if you want to be rid of me, I can arrange a room in the city for you.”

I gulped down a thick mixture of anxiousness and excitement, and managed a shaky, “Fine.”

“Fine, I should arrange a room?”

“Fine, I’ll come with you.”

Apollo’s eyes widened a little. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Great,” he exhaled. He looked almost relieved. Almost happy. Almost whole. And I almost admitted that, deep down, the last thing I wanted was to be rid of him.

“It’s a long way, so let’s get something to eat first. You must be starving.”

My stomach growled in perfect synchronicity, and that was response enough.

???

We ate the most delicious egg-and-cheese muffins from a street vendor while we strolled around and talked about the mythologies, history, and architecture of the land (folktales of vengeful fairies, vampire politics, and pediments made by this sculptor or that) before Apollo insisted on getting me the biggest strawberry cupcake I’d seen in my entire life from one of the many cheerful little bakeries in the square.

As I struggled to swallow down my last bite of pink frosting, I noticed a large group of young men and women dressed in identical dark blue garments and pointy hats crossing the street to enter a tall vermilion building that resembled a storybook castle.

“Why are these people in uniform?” I asked Apollo.

He slipped a hand at the small of my back to guide me on the inside of the sidewalk as he explained, “They’re students. This is Thaloria’s Academy of Magical Arts. Not as grand as the Academies of the East, but it has excellent professors.” A thought flickered in his eyes. An unexpectedly serious thought, judging from the sudden shift in his demeanor. “I meant to tell you…” he hesitated.

I leaned closer, perked with curiosity. “What is it?”

He squinted at the sun and raised a hand to cover his eyes until we found shade again under a shop’s striped awning. The day was viscid and warm, reminiscent of summer, and he had drawn back his cape and rolled up his sleeves, providing me with a rather enticing view of his beautiful forearms and the intricate network of his veins, flowing like undiscovered rivers. “I know you love your Shop, Nepheli,” he ventured, sobering me up by mentioning the Shop. “And I respect that. Your devotion to your family’s legacy is beyond admirable. But when you return to Elora, just… don’t forget to take care of your own needs too, okay?”

I peered up at him, nonplussed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you should follow your passions. You’re not just a saleswoman. You should be practicing your magic or studying history—”

“How do you know I’m interested in history?” I gasped.

His brows raised. “Are you serious? You shine like a whole damn constellation every time you learn something new. You absorb every little piece of lore you hear like a sponge. You’re constantly overwhelmed by your own questions. Your curiosity is the most beautiful thing about you, and, darling, you know you’re gorgeous. Nepheli, you fear that you’re ordinary when, in reality, you are nothing short of a star. A brilliant one. And I just worry that you’ll go back to Elora and let all the mundane stuff suck you in again.”

I stared at him, shaken and dumbfounded.

How was it possible for someone who knew me so little to understand my desires so well? Perhaps he didn’t see me as I wasexactly, for I was far from that star he’d just described, but he did see the woman I wanted to become. And I knew that if I told him now about this woman and all the things she craved to do with her life and the fears the vastness of those things brought her, he would not mock me. He would not talk about impossibilities.

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