Page 74 of The Little Shop of Grand Curiosities

To be known for all you were was lovely. But to be known for all the things you could be was extraordinary. And there were no words beautiful or meaningful enough for me to express how he made me feel now, how much courage and heart his certainty brought me.

I recalled what he’d confessed to me that night in the cave,It’s outrageous, isn’t it? How can someone’s life change so irrevocably in the span of a single day? And you know that nothing will ever be the same from now on.

Indeed,I thought, with my heart being no calmer than a fitful, winged creature trying to escape the cage of my chest.Nothing will ever be the same. How am I supposed to return home now and pretend I’m unchanged, that my heart and body and soul don’t yearn to be elsewhere?

Suddenly, Apollo seized my hand and urged me across the sidewalk, startling me out of my thoughts.

“What are you doing?”

“Look,” he said, pointing at a luxurious storefront with lush orchids decorating its sparkling window display. The sign above the glass plate gleamed under the striking morning sun, the pink cursive letters announcing:Oliar’s Palace.“You need a new chain for your butterfly.”

“Apollo, you don’t have to buy me—” I protested, but he was already twisting the crown-shaped doorknob.

I smoothed back my hair, straightened out my skirts, and followed, anxious to see the inside of a northern shop.

And the shop did not disappoint. It was a treasure trove of ribbons, feathers, fabrics, jewelry, and trinkets. Old watches, silver cosmetic boxes, crystal perfume bottles, and vanity table accessories—combs and brushes and mirrors—all glinting behind rows and rows of glass displays. I wandered between them, taking in the shapes and colors of each object and brushing my fingers over the ribbons that dangled from above, overwhelming my senses with their textures.

An old man with a full head of white hair and a long, greying beard emerged behind a precarious stack of velveteen boxes. “Oh, hello there!” he singsonged in a warm, low voice, pushing up his round spectacles on the bridge of his nose. He came around his overflowing-with-orders desk, and as he took a better look at us, he bowed from the waist, causing his lower back to break into a series of disconcerting cracks. “Your Highness.”

Apollo hurried to the man’s side and helped him straighten up. “Please, you don’t have to do that, Mister Oliar. I didn’t think anyone would recognize me anymore.”

“Ah, I remember you,” the man drawled endearingly, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening as his smile widened. “You used to come in here with your mother when you were a boy. Always messed up the ribbons, you little rascal.”

Apollo laughed under his breath. “I promise to behave myself today.” He met my gaze and gave me a little wink, and damn me if I didn’t feel it all the way down in my lower belly.

“How can I help you this fine day?” Mister Oliar asked, turning to me with a meaningful look. “Something for the Starshine Princess, perhaps?”

“Yes,” Apollo began at the same time as I croaked, “I’m not a Princess.”

The man let out a sweet, short laugh. “In this shop, every woman is a Princess, dear. So, come on, tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll make it happen.”

I took the butterfly out of my pocket and proffered it to him. “I’d like a chain for this pendant, please.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, plucking it off my palm. “What beautiful craftsmanship. Look at these details. Hmm. Let me see,” he murmured to himself before disappearing in a flurry of excitement behind a frilly, taffeta curtain.

“Hey, Little Butterfly,” Apollo called from the other side of the shop, and I veered to find him holding up an exquisite, lace-trimmed parasol. “It’smagenta.”

I rolled my eyes at the ceiling. “Ah, he learns.”

He leaned against the paneled wall, a crooked smirk emerging from the meticulous lines of his face.

I narrowed my eyes, hooking my hands on my hips. “Is there a reason you’re smiling like a hungry demon, Zayra?”

He shrugged. “Just remembering the moment you popped out your parasol at the Shop and started fighting the creatures.”

I snorted. “I must have looked ridiculous.”

“You looked fearless,” Apollo countered. “You looked like someone you wouldn’t ever want to mess with.”

“But you did,” I sighed, feigning annoyance.

He chuckled. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to see a parasol again without thinking about you.”

“Oh please,” I huffed. “You’ll forget me the minute I board that ship.”

His smile waned. His eyes darkened as they traced my face. “No, I won’t.”

“Here we are,” Mister Oliar hummed as he approached us, carrying a velvet-lined tray with various sterling silver chains lined up. He placed it on the counter next to me and considered it for a moment. “The pendant is quite bright in color, so maybe a paler hue of silver for contrast?” he suggested, and with a deft flutter of his fingers, the cables changed one by one to a muted, almost pinkish silver.

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