Malcolm smiled. “You’d have to ask my mother. I did it at her instigation. I’m afraid she likes Andria more than I do.”
I felt light again, as light as when I believed I could fly. “And yet she answers your phone.”
“Not anymore. We were together for a while until I realized she was more interested in my money and status than myself. It took a while to convince her we were finished—something you’re familiar with.”
I grimaced. “Chet contacted me this morning.”
“I warned him not to do that.”
“Don’t worry. It was just an email saying goodbye and apologizing one last time.” Wild horses could not force me to tell Malcolm the last line of that email. “Don’t track him down and kill him.”
“I should, but if you’re convinced you’ve seen the last of him, I’ll refrain.”
“Thank you.” Daring again, I said, “The varying costs of auguries always surprise me. I’m bad at guessing how much they’ll be. Ones I think will be expensive, the oracle hands out for free, and vice versa. I would have thought your last augury, the one before this one, would be more expensive.”
“Yes, well, I already knew the answer. Or at least what I was going to do. It would be hard for Andria to be the woman in my life when I was already interested in someone else.”
It became very hard to breathe. “Oh?” I managed.
“Yes. Someone I’d become acquainted with through this store, in fact.”
I immediately began running through memories of the women who’d been in and out of here like flies, flies tramping through the store who didn’t care about my feelings, chattering at Malcolm like so many… no, flies didn’t chatter or tramp. “That’s nice. I’m happy for you.”
“Don’t be happy yet. She doesn’t know I’m interested.” He leaned against the counter. “But she’s smart, and beautiful, and we have a lot in common. We like all the same movies, for one.”
I was nodding at that, my brain running on autopilot, when I realized how intently he was looking at me. My ears grabbed hold of that last sentence and brought it to the attention of my wandering brain, shrieking at me. “Oh?” I said, unable to look away from him.
“She quotes them all the time. Old movies, that is. And I can’t get enough of her smile.” He smiled at me then, and I found myself breathless for a completely different reason.
“She sounds nice,” I said. My voice seemed to be coming from very far away.
“She is. Better than nice. Even if she does seem to attract trouble. But I don’t know what she thinks of me. I’m quite a bit older than she is, for one.”
His eyes were like dark pools I could drown in. “Oh, who cares about age?” I said, feeling that floaty feeling again. “‘Look at Roosevelt. Look at Churchill. Look at that old fellow what’s-his-name in African Queen.’”
His smile broadened, and the devastating dimple appeared. “How to Marry a Millionaire,” he said. “That’s one of her favorites. Did you know Humphrey Bogart was twenty-five years older than Lauren Bacall? They seemed to manage all right.”
“You’re not twenty-five years older than m—than her. Or I’d have to call the cops and report a felony.”
“No. Just nine years. Practically no difference at all.”
A silly smile touched my lips. “Nothing anyone with any sense would care about.”
He straightened and took a few steps toward me, putting him within arm’s reach. “So, tell me, Helena,” he said, his voice quiet, “do you think I have a chance?”
My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could hear it. He leaned toward me, waiting for my reply. I opened my mouth, ready to tell him everything I’d come to feel for him. But what came out was “The Accords.”
He leaned back, his brow furrowing. “The Accords.”
“This woman, she…” I drew in a breath. “If it’s who I think it is, she can’t—she has to stay impartial. You and she would violate the Accords. If Mr. Rasmussen is willing to go after Lucia to defend his daughter, he’d have no problem going after two people he hates.”
Malcolm took my hand, brushed his thumb across the back of it. “Helena—”
“I can’t do it,” I said. “I want to. You have no idea how much—but I can’t.”
He nodded once as if acknowledging a telling blow. “You’re right,” he said, and let go of my hand. “It never even occurred to me. And it should have.”
I wanted to cling to him. Instead, I said, “I’m sorry.”
“For what? For being the most honorable woman I will ever know?” He stepped forward and put his hand on my cheek, then kissed me, the gentlest of touches. It sent an electric tingle through me, and I stepped closer and kissed him back, savoring the feel of his lips against mine. I’d never had a more amazing kiss, and I wanted more than anything for it to go on forever.
But he pulled away, his dark eyes fixed on mine. His hand dropped to his side. “Goodbye, Helena,” he said, and turned and left the store.
I put both hands on the glass-topped counter, not caring that I was leaving palm prints, and stared sightlessly through the glass to the plywood beneath. I felt numb, as numb as when Derrick had healed me, except for my heart, which ached with a terrible pain. Every interaction I’d had with Malcolm in the last two weeks replayed themselves in my memory, invested now with a significance I’d never thought to look for. He’d been so careful of me, so ready to protect me. He’d taken on Chet twice when I couldn’t defend myself. There were all those little jokes and our quotation game. I’d been so caught up in my attraction to him I’d never even noticed he was feeling it too.
The door opened. “Mail,” said the mail carrier, dropping a bundle on the counter. He didn’t notice my life had come apart. Maybe no one would notice. Maybe I could carry this misery around and not provoke pity or amusement. Helena Davies, most honorable woman alive. I’d trade that honor for one more kiss.
I took the mail into the office and dropped it on the desk, then trod the stairs to my apartment. My heart echoed each creak of the treads. I pushed open the door and went to my study, where Viv sat in the darkened room, hunched over, her face bathed in the bluish glow from the screen. “I can’t believe I’m getting my butt handed to me by an A.I.,” she said, not looking up. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Viv glanced at me, then took a longer look. “What’s wrong? Is the oracle broken, after all?”
I shook my head. “It was Malcolm. He said… he told me…” I swiped my hand across my eyes. “He cares about me, and I had to tell him no. Viv, I wanted—” The tears were coming faster now, and I sat on the edge of Silas’s desk and covered my face with my hands.
Viv stood and came around the desk to put her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, sweetie.”
“I hate the Accords.”
“So do I. But there’s nothing you can do.”
“I could abdicate.” But the thought hurt even worse than my pain over Malcolm. “No, I can’t.”
“He wouldn’t want you to.”
“What do I do?” I let my hands fall and looked up at her.
“You have to let go, sweetie. Don’t hold on to the pain.” She held out her hand. “Give me your phone.”
I handed it to her. “You should have a passcode on this thing,” Viv muttered, and swiped through my contacts list until she found the entry she wanted. She handed it back to me. “It won’t make things better, but it’s a start.”
I looked at the display, then tapped the entry. The phone rang twice before a voice said, “Hello?”
“Hi, Jason?” I said, wiping more tears from my eyes. “Are you doing anything tonight?”
Melissa McShane is the author of more than fifteen fantasy novels, including The Extraordinaries series, beginning withBurning Bright, the Crown of Tremontane series, beginning withServant of the Crown, and The Last Oracle series, beginning withThe Book of Secrets. After a childhood spent roaming the United States, she settled in Utah with her husband, four children and a niece, two very needy
cats, and a library that continues to grow out of control. She wrote reviews and critical essays for many years before turning to fiction, which is much more fun than anyone ought to be allowed to have.
You can visit her at her website:www.melissamcshanewrites.comfor more information on other books.
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Burning Bright, by Melissa McShane
(https://curiosityquills.com/kindle/burning-bright/)
In 1812, Elinor Pembroke wakes to find her bedchamber in flames—and extinguishes them with a thought. Her talent makes her a desirable match in Regency England, but rather than make a loveless marriage or live dependent on her parents, Elinor chooses instead to join the Royal Navy. Assigned to serve in the Caribbean, she turns her fiery talent on pirates preying on English ships. But as her power grows, Elinor’s ability to control it is challenged. Could her fire destroy her enemies at the cost of her own life?
Prom, Magic, And Other Man-Made Disasters, by Rena Rocford
(https://curiosityquills.com/kindle/prom/)
When Tessa finds herself without her stag wingman for prom, she sets out not be the only dateless girl at prom in Small Town USA. Taking a chance on potential humiliation, she asks the new guy, Sean. After all, desperate times call for desperate dates. When a wizard shows up and kidnaps Tessa’s best friend from the pre-prom dinner, she knows the cops won’t be able to help. If she doesn’t follow this whack-job villain to another dimension and save her friend, no one will.
The Girl Without Magic, by Megan O’Russell
(https://curiosityquills.com/kindle/girl-without-magic/)
Death would have been easier, but the Siren wasn’t through with her.
Seventeen-year-old Maggie Trent fell out of a battle and into the Siren’s Realm, where secrets hide in the shadows and pleasure comes at a price Maggie is unwilling to pay. Bertrand Wayland slips in and out through the stitches that bind the Siren’s Realm to other worlds, gaining magic and having glorious adventures. When Maggie follows Bertrand out of the Siren’s Realm, she finds a world of magic on the eve of war. To save innocent lives Maggie risks her only chance of returning to the Siren’s Realm.
Fifteen, by Jen Estes
(https://curiosityquills.com/kindle/fifteen/)
Ashling Campbell is her generation’s dreamwalker, which means instead of getting beauty sleep, she spends each night astral-projecting fifteen years into the future. She meets her future boyfriend, hangs out with her grown-up friends, and witnesses her own execution at the hands of a throng of bloodthirsty demons. It’s “13 Going on 30” meets “Buffy”.
Appetizer:
Book Cover
Title Page
Main Course:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Dessert:
Closing
About the Author
Copyright & Publisher
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