Bookshops & Bonedust (Legends & Lattes, #0)(75)

She gently patted the top of the box. “Thanks, Satchel.”

Then they waited with the sound of crackling flames and Potroast’s wheezing snores, while Fern fussed with the books on the front table and fidgeted with the clasp on her cloak. She’d erected a pile of Zelia Greatstrider’s latest work, Thirst for Vengeance, with previous volumes arrayed around it.

At last, they heard the sound of boots upon the boardwalk and a sharp rapping on the door.

Fern twitched aside the front curtain to peek and then threw the door wide.

Zelia and Berk waited on the threshold. For some reason, Viv had expected the elf to descend upon them like royalty, but she was dressed in the same riding pants she’d worn when first they’d met, along with sensible boots, a linen shirt with billowing sleeves, and a scarf wrapped around her neck and tossed over one shoulder. Her silver hair was piled high with a long wooden hair pin through it.

“Oh, fuck,” murmured Fern, and then she squeaked when she realized what she’d said. “I mean, come in!”

“Thank you, my dear.” Zelia’s amusement was obvious. She knocked off her boots outside, and when she entered, the shop felt suddenly smaller.

Berk stepped in behind her, this time with a venerable longsword at his belt. He unbuckled it as he entered and passed it to Viv. “Just wary of trouble on the road,” he said with a grin.

“Well,” said Greatstrider, propping her fists on her hips. “It’s a charming shop.”

Fern peered down the boardwalk, then flipped the sign on the door to read OPEN, before closing it against the chill.

She opened her mouth to speak, and was utterly paralyzed by the inquiring arch of the elf’s brow.

Viv was unarmed, but after sharing a look with Berk, she decided she probably knew how to save the day.

“Scone?” she asked, and offered one to Zelia on a plate.



* * *



There was much shuffling about, halting reintroductions, and an exceptionally awkward tour of a room that was only a few strides across in any direction, but eventually, Zelia took pity on Fern and seized control of the situation. Commandeering an inkwell and a quill pen—and another scone—she ensconced herself in one of the padded chairs with a pile of books on the table beside her.

She hardly had time for a sip from her mug of tea before the door opened for the first time.

It was Luca, the unfortunate dwarven Gatewarden.

He self-consciously stroked his golden mustaches and stumped into the shop, then stopped short to boggle at Zelia, who regarded him over the rim of her cup with amusement.

“Miss Greatstrider?” he asked. Viv thought if he tugged any harder, he’d yank the braids off his upper lip.

“That’s me,” she replied.

He cast about, saw the pile of Thirst for Vengeance, and seized one, holding it before him in a death grip.

Shuffling closer, he said in a low voice, “I’ve read all your books. Uh, except this one, of course.”

“Would you like me to sign it?”

His eyes widened. “You would do that?”

She held a hand out to him. “What’s your name, then?”

“Uh, Luca, Miss—um, uh, Lady Greatstrider.”

“Call me Zelia.” She took the book, flipped it open, dipped the quill, and signed with a flourish before scrawling a message below her name.

When she handed it back, he read the note while color rose in his cheeks.

Crinkles appeared at the edges of Zelia’s eyes. “You have a question, Luca?”

His voice was barely above a whisper as he asked, “Can … can I tell you one of my favorite bits?”

“Luca, I think you need a scone. Have a seat and let’s chat.”

And that was the beginning.



* * *



Viv and Berk observed from the back hall, leaning against opposing walls, each with a similar expression on their face. A fond and watchful interest.

As Viv studied the customers entering the store, circulating in little eddies throughout the shop, she felt a warmth in her chest that didn’t come from the woodstove. Fern’s starstruck paralysis evaporated quickly in the slowly building swell of custom. There simply wasn’t room for it to survive. Potroast wove between people’s legs, alert for any dropped bits of scone. Very few actually made it to the floor.

She was surprised to see Highlark make an appearance, and then highly amused at the youthful awkwardness of his stammered introductions to the great lady.

Zelia’s clear laugh and husky voice were a uniting thread as she chatted and signed and shook the hands of those who stopped by to see her.

Viv glanced at Berk. “She’s never done this before?”

He shook his head, watching with clear affection. “Never. Still amazed she’s here, to be honest.” Viv was surer and surer that he was more than a bodyguard or valet. Something about the look in his eyes—sad, but warm. “Must have been the right time.”

Fern wasn’t there to keep her from asking, but she tried to put it delicately. “So, it’s just you two up there in the hills? Together?”

Berk’s brows rose. “Oh, there’s a groundskeeper, and a few folks come and go. Really just us, though.”

“Huh.” She let that sit for a minute. “So, you’re … ?”