Page 9 of Must Love Scones and Secrets
“So, Summer?” Primrose clarified, raising an eyebrow. “Next Summer? As in the current season?”
At that, I laughed hard, then reached under the counter and pulled out a flagon, pouring just a little rosehip cordial into our cups.
“To when we’re not too busy to find true love,” Primrose toasted, tapping her teacup against mine.
“Cheers to that.”
We drank, sighed in unison, and then laughed. As I gazed around my cozy shop and at my equally overworked friend, I realized something. Maybe I’d never find true love, but at least I had good—even ifalsooverworked—friends with which to share the journey.
CHAPTER 4
BJORN
The fortnight’s journey south transformed the world around me. The dark, churning waters of Frostfjord gave way to the shimmering blue of the southern seas. At Port Silverleaf, Smoke and I boarded a riverboat bound for Moonshine Hollow.
The riverboat carried an array of passengers I’d rarely seen in Frostfjord’s isolated realm: a gnomish family chattering excitedly about their relatives, a Sylvan couple with well-worn traveling packs on an adventure, and an orc merchant carefully selecting his seat to balance the small craft. Even the half-elves, halflings, and dwarves aboard spoke of a world far more diverse than the one I’d known. I reveled in the moment.
No one knew me.
I was just another passenger.
I chose a spot at the bow and watched the captain cast an enchantment. With a muttered spell, he summoned a wind that filled the indigo-blue sail, emblazoned with the city’s emblem, a wide tree with a full moon on its back. As we glided upriver, a picturesque scene of green with dots of vibrant color unfolded. Whimsy willows with their iridescent leaves dipped their long branches into the water like ladies’ fingers trailing on the waves.Tall cattails waved in sheltered covers. Ornery horned goat frogs sat on a log, their beards drifting in the water, watching us suspiciously as we passed.
I closed my eyes, relishing the warmth on my skin.
“What, ho! Cupid swans! Everyone down,” the skipper called. His warning had us ducking our heads as we passed a pair of Cupid swans drifting near the bank, their pink feathers luminous in the morning light. At home, Mother would have thrown herself between me and any passing commoner to prevent an enchanted romance. Cupid swans were notorious for zinging love spells at random passersby, causing the victim to fall in love with the next person they saw. Here, I had no queenly mother to protect me. I was just another passenger avoiding the matchmakers’ mischief, free to laugh with my fellow travelers at our shared predicament.
Sailing on, we passed white harts grazing in sunlit meadows, their gold-and-silver antlers glinting in the bright sunlight. Spark lilies floating on green lily pads shot tiny fireworks into the air as we passed. And once, I swore I caught a glimpse of a selkie’s curious face before she slipped beneath the water’s surface.
Soon, farms and homesteads came into view. I spotted a man wearing a tall, pointed gray cap riding in a cart with a halfling. Others walked with baskets in hand as though returning from the village. Before long, the town itself came into sight.
Even from the river, I could tell Moonshine Hollow was a place of charm and wonder. The town sprawled along the riverbank, its cobblestone streets winding past rows of crooked cottages and charming shopfronts. Bridges crossed the river from a dense forest on the other side into the bustling town. Banners depicting the city’s emblem hung on lampposts, snapping in the gentle breeze. The buildings were a mix of stucco, stone, and richly engraved wood, with roofs sloping atwhimsical angles, many adorned with patches of moss or ivy. Window boxes overflowed with blooms in every imaginable shade, their sweet scent carried on the warm air.
Even from the river, I could see the uppermost limbs of the ancient oak tree at the center of town, its silver-tipped leaves shimmering softly in the sunlight. Along the river was a bustling produce market, with vendors selling fresh fruits, vegetables, flowers, and magical trinkets. A gnome playing the xylophone and a satyr with a guitar entertained passersby as townsfolk chatted, exchanged goods, and waved at passing neighbors. The sound of a distant blacksmith’s hammer rang faintly through the air, blending seamlessly with the gentle hum of life around me.
As the riverboat docked, the skipper barked orders and ropes thudded as they hit the wooden pier. The moment I stepped off the gangplank, my senses were overwhelmed in the best way. The aroma of freshly baked bread mingled with the tang of river water and the earthy smell of the fruit market. A soft breeze carried the sound of laughter and the murmur of casual conversation.
A dwarf balancing two wooden crates of vegetables bumped against me as he passed. “Sorry, mate,” he said briskly, barely glancing up before moving on.
I couldn’t help but smile. No bowing, no murmurs of “my prince,” no deferential stares. Here, I was just another traveler, blending into the hum of daily life. The anonymity settled over me like a comforting blanket, and I felt like I could breathe for the first time in years.
The dockmaster waited, checking each of us in with a scroll in one hand and an enchanted feather quill in the other. When he reached me, his eyes traveled upward, noting my tall stature.
“Rune elf?” he asked. “Ah, you must be here about Elder Thornberry’s unicorns.”
“I am, sir. I’m Bjorn…Bjorn Runeson,” I said, taking on the surname of my father’s Master of Horse. I swallowed hard, as if keeping down the lie.
“Very good, very good,” the man said, gesturing for the quill to make a note.
“I would be much obliged if you could direct me to the elder’s house,” I added.
The dockmaster waved to a gnomish child sitting atop a barrel nearby. The boy had been occupied with folding a piece of paper.
“Boy!” he called. “Come here. Take this gentleman to Elder Thornberry.”
The child hopped off the barrel, his eyes wide when they met mine. “Whoa, I’ve never met a Rune elf before.”
I smiled and ruffled his hair. “I’ve come from Frostfjord, home of King Ramr Runeheart.”
