Chapter Sixteen
CHAPTER
Sixteen
I was going to send you a raven,’ Thea said when Malek strolled into the apothecary the following afternoon.
He shivered, buttoning his thick navy coat.
Everyone was feeling the after-effects of the blizzard, theorising on whose magic might have caused it.
Wojslav had been overheard blaming Rose, who’d then further irked the grumpy vampire by sending an army of sunflowers marching on the Crypt in a moment of petty revenge.
Sarah, who’d been shopping there for new cat beds, had run out in a flurry of sneezes.
Zofka had sent several ravens soaring over to Thea, updating her on the feud.
Thea had kept quiet on her encounter during the storm, though it wouldn’t be long before either Zofka or Talibah wrangled it from her.
Jasper had stalked through her dreams until she’d woken sweating and confused.
But, no. She refused to think of him that way.
No matter how many times their kiss played through her thoughts.
She had Malek. And, besides, she and Jasper were wrong for each other in every way.
He had carried away her box in a heart and she had spent the past seven years hating him.
‘Then it seems I had the right idea coming in here today.’ Malek lifted his hand, revealing a bouquet of roses. Their petals were velvety and white as new snow. When Thea ran a finger over them, they fluttered and giggled as if she’d tickled them.
‘Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the annual Winter Ball? It’s being held in the Spanish Hall at the castle this year.’
‘I would be delighted.’ Thea smiled at the roses. They bore a wild sweetness with a dark undertone, one that reminded her of long, late autumnal walks. And something else, which she couldn’t place.
Malek’s chest puffed up. ‘Then that makes two of us,’ he told her. Tapping the bouquet, he added, ‘Apparently these are meant to smell of your favourite memory, but all I get is freshly baked bread so maybe it’s just your favourite smell.’ He laughed. ‘What do you smell?’
Thea’s smile strained. ‘The forest,’ she lied slowly, placing the scent at last: the air before a storm, an evening surrendering to night.
It was Jasper. Ignoring her snarling guilt, she set the roses down on her countertop, the same one that Jasper had lifted her up onto last night.
No. She banished the thought, forcing herself to concentrate on Malek.
‘And speaking of gifts, I have something to tell you.’
Malek’s face softened with hope. ‘You have finished it?’
‘Almost. I need a couple more ingredients, but I am very much hoping to have it for you the night of the ball.’
Provided this second attempt actually worked. And Jasper kept his promise; she’d been waiting for him to appear all day, jolting each time the bells rang but he hadn’t yet darkened her door.
‘How are things with Lord Stiltskin?’ Malek asked, glancing over his shoulder as if he’d heard her thinking about him.
‘The same as usual. I only see him when he deigns to appear,’ Thea told him.
Malek looked curious. ‘Do you never visit him in the castle district?’
‘No,’ Thea said, frowning a little. ‘Why do you ask?’
Malek dimpled at her. ‘I confess that I would quite like to live there: it’s a beautiful neighbourhood.
I wonder if I have ever passed his house?
It must be grand, if a lord lives there.
’ Catching Thea’s frown, he changed the subject.
‘Though this Quarter seems far more interesting than the rest of Prague. When I walked through today, there were kittens everywhere.’
Thea laughed. ‘It is one of my favourite places. How is your sister? I am sorrier than you could know that I haven’t been able to make this key faster—’
‘I have been able to send word that help is forthcoming. She is . . . hopeful, for the first time in a while. As am I.’ Malek’s dimple deepened. ‘All thanks to you.’ Closing the distance between them, he cupped her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek.
Her guilt surged back as she smiled at him. ‘Then I will see you at the ball?’
‘I will come for you in my carriage,’ he promised.
When Malek left, the apothecary descended into silence.
Thea coaxed her fire to burn brighter, to chase away the lingering cold snap.
Outside, the Magic Quarter was worryingly empty.
Not a pixie nor a kitten wandered past. The oaks groaned under the weight of the icicles dripping from them, the cobblestones looked like Zofka’s kitchen after she’d dropped a bag of flour, and the witch light gourds seemed to be snarling more than yesterday.
Thea toyed with the fraying edge of one of her sleeves, hoping that the lack of customers had more to do with the frigid air blasting down the street than – Pan Novak. He was back.
Stepping back from the window, Thea observed discreetly as Pan Novak marched through the Magic Quarter, flanked by five Hunters. In their solemn attire and grey wigs, they looked like ghouls.
Zofka and Rose emerged from their doors, keeping a wary eye out.
As the Hunters neared Stiltskin’s Apothecary, the moon light slowly dimmed, and the elixirs, which were usually fond of glowing or chiming like bells, dulled and silenced. From the backroom came the unmistakable sound of an apple falling. But they were not the intended target today.
Pan Novak marched straight past the apothecary, past the Rose Basket, and into Fleur’s lilac-painted establishment.
‘She’s not going to like that,’ Thea murmured to her empty shop floor, watching as Zofka and Rose’s postures eased. If anyone wasn’t going to need back up, it was Fleur.
It began with a snap.
Lingering by her window, Thea braced, half expecting to see a bullet shoot past or the sky crack open with lightning.
Instead, a Hunter ran past, yelling for help as a whalebone corset snapped its supportive bones one at a time, wrapping itself around his face.
Seconds later, another Hunter fled after the first, pursued by an army of stockings and stays, lashing out with every strap, lace and ribbon.
The other three Hunters cut a swift exit, amid a quartet of wide gowns charging down the Quarter, and finally, Pan Novak marched back the way he came, his scowl fiercer than the petticoats that swirled around him like belligerent clouds.
As he passed the apothecary, he turned his head and stared straight through Thea’s window. His eyes were blank, shrouding any lick of emotion, though his mouth gave a single twitch of displeasure.
Thea shivered.
The Quarter descended back into chilled silence. Thea poured a cup of spiced apple and cinnamon tea. In an effort to cheer herself, she read another piece of the story in the margins of her Compendium:
Home is becoming a battlefield. More and more, I steal away to the forest, where he is always waiting.
He worries for me. Wishes for us to leave, asks me when he can whisk me away to other, far-flung places.
The worlds are wide, he says, and we have seen so very little of them.
Imagine seeing them together. Imagine everything opening to us like a flower in bloom.
Imagine being together every day and never fearing that we will be torn apart.
It sounds like a beautiful dream, but I am fearful it will remain ever that – only a dream.
A tapping at the door summoned Thea back to the present moment. When she opened the door, a raven flew through, delivering a note from Zofka:
That was the most delicious thing I’ve seen all day!
Thea had barely finished reading it when a second raven knocked on the window with its beak, bearing Zofka’s next thought:
Do you think this is the end of the Magic Quarter?
Thea scribbled an emphatic No! on the same scroll before dispatching the raven back to Zofka. Sipping her spiced tea, she watched as flakes of snow lazily fell from the sky to rest, undisturbed, on the near-empty street.
Thea woke with a start. The hour was late, the moonlight slanting across the floorboards, the apothecary quiet. Jasper still hadn’t come with the promised fingernail, and Thea couldn’t wait any longer. Impatience pricked at her.
Restless, she dashed across the street to the Lantern, in a bid to find some more reading material, since she’d already devoured half of Eudora and the Ship’s Captain.
For once, the soft rainbow of lanternlight did nothing to soothe Thea’s internal maelstrom. Talibah, luminous in a teal dress and matching headscarf, was busy with a pair of shape-shifters – a couple who changed into a hawk and a falcon and, Thea had been told, had fallen in love in the skies.
‘Have you noticed anything strange in the forest when you’ve flown over lately?’ Thea interrupted to ask.
The couple shook their heads before resuming their conversation.
Thea grabbed a map from the pile of enchanted parchments and ducked through the gnarled wooden door at the back of the shop.
With a sigh, a long row of candelabras ignited, illuminating floor-to-ceiling shelves in every direction beneath a slanted wooden ceiling. Stairs wound down to deeper levels, carved out from the liminal space in which the Magic Quarter hid.
Thea closed her eyes and took a deep breath; there was nothing better than the smell of books. New books with crisp ink type, old books with fusty pages, endless scrolls of even older tales with crumbling words.
Distant conversation echoed through the maze of shelves, interspersed with the odd squeak from a passing bookworm.
Opening her eyes, Thea consulted the map.
It was an aged sprawl of parchment, thick and yellowed at the edges, its enchantment carrying the scent of spice markets and faraway moons.
Talibah had found these maps many years ago, slumbering in an abandoned crate of trinkets for sale in Cairo.
She’d held onto them as she wandered the world, until she’d collected enough books to cobble her bookshop together.
As Thea watched the map, it revealed an arrow. ‘Come on, take me to something good,’ she pleaded. ‘I want to read a love story that will sweep me off my feet and make me forget about him.’
The arrow danced forwards. And Thea followed.
Its path wended through shelves until Thea couldn’t have found her own way back to the main front of the Lantern if her life depended on it.
But this? The promise that the map would lead you to the book your heart desired to read above all else – that was well worth getting lost for.
She followed each curve of the arrow’s path, pacing past shelves, anticipation trilling in her veins as the titles blurred together.
As expected, the arrow drew to a halt in front of a shelf of romance novels. Thea waited patiently.
A book shot from the shelves, landing in her outstretched hands.
‘Your map is broken.’
Talibah took the enchanted parchment from Thea, giving it a cursory glance as she did so. ‘Ah, sometimes it has a sense of humour.’
Thea glared at her friend. ‘There is nothing funny about this.’ She waved the book the map had led her to, time and again, until she’d given up ramming it back onto the shelf and brought it back into the main room of the bookshop: Falling in Hate with his Lordship by Clara Bell.
Talibah fought to keep the smile from her face. She failed. ‘Perhaps it’s trying to tell you something?’
‘That,’ Thea huffed, ‘is painfully apparent.’ Tucking the book under her arm, she dumped a handful of coins in Talibah’s hand before marching out of the Lantern.
‘I thought you didn’t want it?’ Talibah called after her.
‘I have nothing else to read!’