Page 9

CHAPTER 9

ROSALYN

T here was nothing I enjoyed more than book club.

It was the highlight of every month, and I’d made the selection this month.

I was a sucker for a romantic classic.

While everyone knew the novel Crown and Crumpets , which featured haughty Lord Thornberry and the object of his affection and disdain, Miss Beth, whose family had grown to wealth from a thriving crumpet empire, it was my favorite book—ever.

I was excited to have a chance to see what new perspectives the others brought.

Primrose, Emmalyn, Juniper, Tansy, Winifred, and I made our way up the creaky spiral staircase to the talking loft at Sir Reginald Hootington’s Magical Bookery for our monthly book club gathering.

Portia, the owner, was already there adjusting chairs.

Sir Reginald’s was one of my favorite spots in Moonshine Hollow.

The loft sat by a tall window looking down on the street below.

From the loft, we had a good view of the oak at the center of town.

Patrons browsed books in the shop below us, many of the tomes wiggling with excitement as potential buyers passed.

At the same time, an enchanted piano played softly in one corner.

The place was serene.

Enchanted feather dusters cleared off our seats as Portia readied the place.

Sparkles rose off the book spines on the shelves nearby, attempting to entice us to peruse the tomes.

We settled into our favorite spots.

Portia used her magic to distribute teacups, which clinked cheerfully as they hopped onto saucers.

In the corner, nestled in a carved wooden box, was the shop’s guardian owl, Sir Hootington, who dozed with one eye half-open.

His midnight-blue feathers shifted, making flecks of silver on his wings glimmer like stars.

A tiny wisp of blue smoke curled from his beak when he exhaled a soft snore.

Portia Wordsworth, our friend, and the bookstore owner, lifted her copy of Crown and Crumpets .

Ever the sophisticated reader, her nose wrinkled as she looked at the book.

“Well,” Primrose said, pulling her copy from a basket, “what did everyone think?”

“Loved it,” Tansy, a newcomer to our group, said.

“It’s a classic love story. He was stiff, cold, and used to being on his own. She was loud and cheerful, just the remedy he needed.”

I grinned at her, clinging to my well-worn copy of the novel.

“I agree,” Primrose said.

“I loved the subtlety of the romance. They detest one another for so long that it becomes obvious to everyone but them that they’re madly in love,” she said with a wistful sigh.

“What did you think, Portia?”

“Well,” Portia began, giving me an apologetic look.

I grinned at her.

I already know it’s coming.

Just say it.

“I don’t mean to be dismissive,” Portia continued, “but I found it so…pedestrian.”

The others laughed lightly.

No one was surprised.

Portia was a dear friend, but her taste in books always leaned toward heavier reads.

“At least we could understand it,” Winifred told her, making the others chuckle.

“I know you love him, Portia, but I could barely understand Bard Silas Drear’s poems,” she said, referring to our last read, which had been Portia’s selection.

“His ideas were lofty, but I could barely keep my eyes open.”

“Bard Silas Drear is a master,” Portia protested.

“I had hoped you would enjoy his poems,” she said with a defeated sigh.

“We did,” Juniper said warmly.

“The meaning was just a bit obscure, at times.”

Sir Hootington opened one eye and let out an empathetic “hoo” before tucking his head back under his wing.

“I’ve heard Bard Drear’s poems performed on the road,” Tansy piped in.

“When set to music, they can be very moving.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Portia lamented.

“ Crown and Crumpets does have its deeper meanings,” Emmalyn said.

“It’s about being honest about what you want and truly knowing yourself. Lord Thornwick struggled with that, and I think that’s a universal pain, right?” she asked tepidly, showing some of her own vulnerability for just a moment.

I nodded enthusiastically.

“That’s what grabbed me about this book when I first read it. I wanted to leave Spring Haven then, but pixies usually stay in pixie lands—at least, that’s what my mother made me believe. But I knew I had to find myself. I also saw my own struggle in Lord Thornwick.”

Emmalyn gave me a soft smile.

“And it is a spicy love story,” Winifred said, fanning herself jokingly.

“When he leaped into the river to save her, coming out soaking wet…whew.”

The others laughed, even Portia.

I grinned.

“There is that. And you all know my imagination is always primed for true love. I’m forever waiting for Lord Thornberry to sweep me off my feet.”

“Would a Rune elf do instead?” Emmalyn asked with a smirk.

I paused and turned to her, a curious expression on my face.

Sir Hootington’s head also swiveled in her direction, suddenly interested.

“Oh, yes,” Winnie said, tossing aside her book with glee and leaning in to hear the gossip.

“Let’s talk about him ! Who was that man lingering around your shop, Rosalyn? That Rune elf? What was he doing? Who is he?”

“He’s working for my father and the other elders to help the unicorns,” Emmalyn replied, gesturing to a sugar cube that did a little somersault into her tea.

“He’s staying with us.”

“Hmm,” Winnie mused suspiciously.

“Well, he was practically stalking Rosalyn last night.”

“I wouldn’t call stopping by for dinner stalking ,” I replied.

“We met at the elder’s estate, and he stopped by the café for something to eat. He doesn’t know anyone in town, and you all know I can’t help but be friendly to strangers, especially the tall, handsome ones.”

The others chuckled.

Sir Hootington hooted in agreement.

“He was lingering. I saw him at your door twice . You need to watch him, Rosalyn,” Winifred warned.

“We don’t know anything about him,” she said, then turned to Emmalyn.

“Where did he come from?”

“He’s King Ramr of Frostfjord’s Master of Horse and a unicorn expert.”

“Married?” Winifred asked.

“I don’t know,” Emmalyn replied.

“Girlfriend?” Winnie added.

I would have tried to stop her, but I was dying to know too.

“I’m not sure, Winnie.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“It didn’t come up.”

“And what manner of man is he?” Winifred asked, her gaze penetrating.

“Ladies, the book?” Portia said, trying and failing to redirect the conversation.

Emmalyn laughed.

“I don’t have your keen powers of observation, Winifred. I guess… Well, he has good table manners.”

I sighed, then sat back.

“Unfortunately, all this talk isn’t worth bothering with. Handsomeness and good table manners aside, I don’t think he’s interested in me,” I said, remembering how Bjorn left hastily last night.

I wasn’t sure what had happened, exactly, only that something had suddenly caused his mood to change.

The little vase of flowers on our table sighed sadly, then drooped slightly.

“Shh, you,” Winnie told the flowers, who perked up at her scolding.

“Are you sure about that?” Emmalyn asked me.

“My mother mentioned you at breakfast, and Mister Runeson’s cheeks were burning red.”

“Sadly, yes. No angst-ridden yet sweeping romance for me,” I said, lifting my book.

“I don’t know what went wrong. We were having an nice conversation, and then Merry had a little episode, and Bjorn left abruptly. He’s no Lord Thornwick, I’m afraid.”

Sir Hootington gave an empathetic hoot.

“Ladies, can we get back to—” Portia began, lifting the book, but Juniper set her hand on Portia’s arm, gesturing for her to wait.

“Rosalyn, what happened to Merry?” Juniper asked.

I described the strange magical sneezes Merry had been having.

Juniper leaned forward in her seat and listened, her brow furrowing.

“That sounds very similar to the issue Granik’s new snufflecorn piglets have been having,” Juniper said, referring to her orc bestie and a local farmer.

“The piglets have been zipping around and leaving trails of truffles in their wake, not that anyone minds. Snufflecorn piglets are always wild, but this is strange magic. He asked me to come look at the fields. I didn’t find anything odd, at least vegetation-wise, that might be causing it.”

“Have you been to the unicorn fields?” Emmalyn asked her.

Juniper nodded.

“I went with Kellen, but we saw nothing amiss. But the unicorns, Merry, and the snufflecorns…all magical horned creatures.”

“Do you think there may be some connection?” I asked Juniper.

“There may be,” Juniper said.

“Is Mister Runeson still at your house, Emmalyn?”

“He headed out to Woodsong Cabin.”

“He should be told,” Juniper said, “don’t you all think?” Juniper lifted her tea and sipped in an attempt to hide her plotting smile.

Everyone turned to me, grinning expectantly.

Even Sir Hootington swiveled his head my way, giving me a knowing blink.

“And you all think I should go tell him?” I asked, feeling a blush rise in my cheeks.

Everyone nodded, even Portia, who had pushed her glasses up to see me more clearly.

“Well, I c ould take him a basket of goodies. I mean, just to be friendly, right?”

“Of course,” Primrose said.

“Just like Miss Beth was friendly with Lord Thornwick in chapter twelve.”

“And chapter twenty,” Tansy added.

“And chapters thirty, thirty-two, and thirty-five,” Winifred added with a giggle.

“But especially chapter fifty-eight.”

At that, the others laughed while Sir Hootington hooted.

I looked at Portia, giving her an apologetic smile.

“We’ll see you next time, Rosalyn,” she told me with a light grin “And in the words of Bard Drear, ‘May fortune favor those bold of heart and reward them with love’s purest art.’“

With a grin, I stashed my copy of Crown and Crumpets into my bag and hurried from the bookshop.

If Miss Beth could win her man through persistence, a well-executed waltz, and perfectly baked crumpets, maybe I could get Bjorn Runeson to warm up to me with a basket of scones and a smile.

Then we’d see what Bard Silas Drear would have to say about that.