Page 75 of The Little Shop of Grand Curiosities

A little gasp left me at this casual display of magic. I remembered Agathe telling me how every human from the North had a little bit of magic inside them, and this was why they were drawn here. This was whyIwas drawn here.

“So?” Mister Oliar prompted.

I glanced nervously at Apollo next to me. “What do you think?”

Apollo picked up a simple, clavicle-length chain with a pretty rosebud clasp. “I like this one.”

Mister Oliar took it and passed the chain through the pendant’s bail. “A perfect match,” he said contentedly, holding up the necklace. The butterfly’s pink wings caught the light with something like approval.

“Let’s put it on you,” Apollo said, and Mister Oliar handed it to him, immediately.

I swallowed, gathered my hair up in my fists, and turned around for him. The heat of his body behind me was an electric current, bright and painful, and his soft exhale at the back of my neck as he brought the necklace around it sent a shockwave through my bones. Brief but heart-rending recollections of kisses and bites and fingers dipping lower and lower on my body emerged at the forefront of my mind just to torment me. Suddenly, it became a chore to breathe.

“There it is,” Apollo rasped, his hands lingering on my shoulders, warm and a little rough to the touch. “Back where it belongs.”

“Thank you,” I managed, blushing to my hairline.

“We’ll take it,” Apollo said to Mister Oliar. “And the parasol.”

My head whipped around. “Apollo, please, the chain is enough—”

“It’s my fault Trix took yours,” he interjected, a scheming smile popping up on his face. “Let me get you this. For fighting monsters, Little Butterfly.”

Grudgingly, I nodded.

Part of me wanted to start yelling at him right in the middle of the shop.How dare you be kind and generous and charming one moment only to go ahead and absolutely destroy me the next?

He did not destroy you, Nepheli,the voice of reason admonished.His behavior doesn’t affect you so profoundly because you’re not in love with him, remember?

I raised my hand to my collarbone and clutched the pendant in my fist, breathing shallowly. Of course. Of course, I’m not falling in love with him. I’m not a fool.

Apollo smiled at me over his shoulder as he paid Mister Oliar. And gods help me, my heart lost a beat.

24

Nepheli

Stop fidgeting,” Apollo growled under his breath as we stood side by side in the Grand Hall of the Dreaming Palace, waiting for the King and Queen to arrive.

The massive, glinting hall was made of nothing less than sunset-colored daydreams. It was wrapped in hues of white, yellow, and peach, with pink wall panels and breathtaking gilded moldings interrupted by windows framed with white, gauzy curtains. The coffered ceiling was in the loveliest shade of sky-blue known to man, the perfect backdrop for the clouds that sleepily traveled to and fro, as animated as reality. Five prism chandeliers dangled in between the passing clouds, sparkling with a substance that reminded me of Agathe’s weaver magic.

Although empty at the center, the corners of the grand space were diligently furnished with freestanding and built-in benches upholstered in peach plush, as well as two high-backed gilded chairs raised on a hardwood pedestal at the far edge of the hall.

“I’m just a little nervous,” I breathed out, wondering if I should sit down at one of the benches and try to quell my heart.

“There’s no reason to be,” Apollo said through clenched teeth, his gaze pinned straight ahead. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was more of a nervous wreck than I was.

“What if they hate me?” I muttered.

He finally turned to me. He had given his cape, baldric, and bag to the white-gloved man who still lingered next to the gilded double doors, and in this opulent room with his billowy white shirt and noble features, Apollo looked more princely than ever. “You’re impossible to hate, Nepheli,” he said quietly, only for my ears.

For a heart-skip of a moment, we just stared at each other, our throats bobbing and our lips parting as if to say…something.Say something, I begged myself.Say something or look away.

I was saved by the sudden banging of the doors as they flew right open. A woman with wild, candy-pink hair burst into the room, her beautiful bronze face twisting into an expression of simultaneous shock and joy. A man followed behind her, tall, strong, and grim. His feline eyes were a familiar shade of grey-blue, a color that I already knew I would never be able to completely erase from the notepad of my mind.

The Queen seized Apollo in her arms, lifting to the tips of her satin shoes. “My boy,” she cried, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. “My little boy is home.”

The King smiled a small, dignified smile and patted Apollo on the back. “I swear you got taller,” he said in a deep, bass voice.

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