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“Hey, look at that,” I chirped, spotting my favorite oracle deck nestled next to the register. “I haven’t done a reading in a while, have I?”

I left the pack of letters aside and got my hands on the deck. I shuffled the cards for a few seconds, then closed my eyes, sucked in a long, centering breath, and plucked one out of the bunch.

I took a peek.

Hmm, how odd. The Stranger.

A little prediction scribbled its way in golden letters along the vivacious animation of the card—this was a verycuriousdeck, after all—and I waited patiently for it to conclude its message before reading it.

A handsome Stranger will walk into the Shop today. Do not entrust him with your heart.

I jumped off my seat with a cackle, flicking the lucky card in the air. “You see that?” I exclaimed at the Shop. “I knew I was going to make a sale today! I knew it!” Merrily, I twirled around myself, clutching the card to my chest. “Gods, I’msoexcited. But why would I ever entrust a customer with my heart?” The cauldron frothed in response. I shrugged, chuckling. “I think the oracle is in a silly mood today.”

Now all I had to do was wait. And I was excellent at that.

I used to think of life as the anxious waiting before a major happening, the days no more interesting than an assortment of distracting tasks to pass the time. Until, somewhere along the way, I realized that this profoundsomethingwas never going to happen, and all these distractions—the small, unnoticeable things—were the very point of life.

For a little while, I busied myself with brewing some ginger and lemon balm tea while reading today’s paper. The usual articles about the Dreadful Mundane were plastered all across the front page, and some news from the North, the titleTHE PRINCE OF BROKEN HEARTS SOON TO RETURN TO THALORIAscreaming at me in bold, black letters.

Too uninterested—and admittedly too thrilled to keep still and read right now—I opted for writing a reply to my mother’s latest letter. According to it, they were doing very well in the West. Money was a little tight, but they didn’t mind because, as stated by Father, they were getting old, and when you were old, you were happy just watching the ocean and the trees and the albatrosses flapping by on the frothy skyline. They missed me and wished for me to join them soon, but they were also very proud of theirLittle Starshinefor not giving up on the Shop.

“I promise to never, ever give up on you,” I whispered to it, my chest hurting from a strange, oppressive feeling that I couldn’t quite name. Not sadness or even wistfulness, just an inglorious, deep-rooted ache. “How could I? You’re the most interesting thing about me, anyway.”

The bells jingled on the door—a short, gleeful ringing that made my heart lurch to my stomach and every muscle in my body twitch with excitement.

Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods.

Here it is.

It’s happening.

“Hi—Hello—Welcome to The Little Shop of Grand Curiosities!” I choked out all in one breath as I sprung to my feet so fast that I almost spilled my tea all over Mother’s letter.

The man who walked into the Shop was indeed very handsome. Troublingly, jarringly handsome to be exact. Tall and built, with broad shoulders and a striking face that belonged to a storybook prince.

His skin was the color of burnt sugar. His hair was midnight-black, and his eyes were thundercloud-grey. He had a strong nose, a chiseled, square jaw, and a pair of sinfully full lips. If the most sizzling summer night had a face, it would be his.

But as beautiful as the card had predicted, there was also something very,verycurious about this young man.

For one thing, he was completely out of breath, panting from what seemed to be simultaneous exhaustion and relief. And his eyes, albeit mesmerizing, were devoid of…something. Something important.

And the most curious thing of all? The stranger was without a question,notfrom Elora.

His black garments were so elaborate and out of fashion—the man was wearing a cape for goodness’ sake—that I could have sworn he was from The Faraway North. And this, I believed, was extraordinarily strange because no one in their right mind would ever leave the wonderful North just to travel to dusty, old Elora.

There was no magic veil separating the North from the other kingdoms of the Asteria Realm, but there was still a certain mystifying element to it. It was the kind of place you had to live and not simply read about in stories. Magic, oftentimes, demanded to be experienced like this, fully and presently. Even maps of The Faraway North tended to be unreliable. In a way, the North was the closest thing we had in this world to a real-life fairytale.

“Gods, that was close,” the man sighed to himself, leaning back against the shut door.

I cleared my throat. “Are you okay, sir?”

The stranger met my gaze. Nonchalant. Cold. Unimpressed. Then a clever little smirk popped on his face. “Sure, darling, I’m fantastic,” he drawled, his voice low and rich, if not a bit suggestive.

“Can I help you with something?” I offered in a pleasant manner. A note of tension burrowed between my shoulder blades, but it was probably just nerves. I really, really wanted to make a sale. It wasn’t even about the money. I wanted to prove that the Shop wasn’t finished yet. That magic in Elora wasn’t dead. And that this part of myself still had a reason to exist.

“No,” came his curt reply.

He unglued his back from the door and raked a hand through his messy hair, smoothing back some insolent locks.