Page 77 of The Little Shop of Grand Curiosities

Xander nodded, looking disappointed. “Yes, of course.” He went to leave but hesitated. “Apollo? If you’re not too tired this afternoon, before the ball starts, spend some time with your old man, yes?”

Apollo’s throat bobbed. “I promise.”

Xander exhaled and continued down the glimmering hall a few more steps before he veered again with a charming, almost roguish smirk that, unfortunately for me, I knew all too well. “Oh, and Nepheli dear, welcome to The Faraway North.”

25

Nepheli

Ayoung Lady of the Court, dressed in the most gorgeous blue taffeta gown I’d seen in my life, came to show me to my room. She had beautiful fawn-like eyes and gleaming deep-brown skin, and her black hair was in a magnificent coil atop her head, with only a few curly bits framing her sweet, round face.

“I’m Dorothea,” she chirped in her soft, cheery voice as we sauntered down a long hallway with wide windows that overlooked the exuberant gardens of the Palace. “But you can call me Thea.”

“I’m—”

“Nepheli, I know. The whole court has been buzzing about you all morning.”

I frowned, anxious at the thought of anyone buzzing anything about me. “Why?”

Thea shrugged her delicate shoulders. “Well, you know how it is. The Starshine Princess from the South and all that…”

“I’m not a Princess. I’m a Curiosity, actually,” I said a bit shyly.

Her eyes rounded on me. “Really? Oh, I’ve heard about Curiosity Shops. You must tell meeverything. I love, love,lovemagic. I haven’t manifested my own magic yet, but I’m working on it.”

A nervous chuckle was my sole response.

Thea stole a glance at my hair. “Do you know what kind of magic you have?”

“A weaver was recently able to discern that I possess star-magic. But I haven’t manifested it either,” I explained.

Thea’s entire face sparked up like a firework. “Great, then we can practice together. I’m usually free in the afternoons.”

A sudden sense of despondency packed down my sternum as I forced myself to say, “I’m actually leaving tomorrow morning.”

“You are?” she gasped, her brows bunching. “But I thought… Everyone is saying that you’re engaged to Prince Apollo. They saw you two promenading this morning at the square. They say that you broke his curse and that’s why he returned after all this time.”

“What?” I squealed, halting mid-step. “No! We’re not—He’s not—He’s still—”

“Heartless?” Thea wryly suggested.

I sighed. “Very much so.”

“It is terrible, isn’t it?” Thea asked in a confidential manner, leaning in and lowering her voice. “What happened to him, I mean.”

“That witch should have never agreed to cast this curse on him,” I hissed. “If someone came into my Shop drunk and heartbroken and asked me for something like that, I would have given them a glass of water and a slap across the face, not removed their heart from their body only for it to end up gods know where.”

Suddenly, I was struck by two countervailing emotions: regret that I didn’t say this to Apollo last night and anger for the incredible misfortune that had befallen him.

“Exactly,” Thea bristled. “You know, a lot of people here say that he brought this upon himself, but I honestly don’t believe he understood what he was doing at the moment. It was so out of character for him. I’m a bit younger, so I was never in his friend group, but from what I have heard, he was such a thoughtful and kindhearted person before Verena.”

My chest tightened. “He still is,” I whispered, feeling Thea’s keen attention on me. “In his own way.”

Apollo couldn’t love, but he was still able to care, not with his heart but through instinct, logic and, perhaps, memory. It would be so easy for him to shut down completely and live a mindless life full of selfish pleasures and meaningless indulgences. But that was not Apollo. Apollo was honorable and unyielding in a soldierly sort of way. He was forgiving and generous to a fault. He held himself accountable for his mistakes and fought relentlessly to fix them. And to me, there was nothing more human than that.

Thea looked at me the way Mother did whenever she’d find me at five in the morning, still reading with a flickering lamp under my covers. A kind of endearing exasperation. “You like him.”

“I…” I coughed. “Well…”

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