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Fia’s heart pattered, and she wondered if anyone might ever watch out for her in that way. Offering such a small but intimate gesture.
After catching sight of Montrose and exchanging a quick smile with him, Grace turned back. “I can’t believe how many people are here—and I can’t believe you kept another secret from me. A Madbury!” Her exclamation was part delight, part admonishment. “These days I’m hearing everything about you from the paper.”
“Another article?” Fia moaned. “Please tell me there wasn’t anything about—”
“The theft?”
“Shh.” Fia hushed her friend, tugging her into a quiet corner of the shop so their conversation wouldn’t be overheard.
“Sorry.” Grace pinched her fingers together. “There was just a small remark in the article about you and Thistledown.”
“That doesn’t make me feel much better.”
“Don’t you want the truth?”
“I do,” Fia grumbled, but it wasn’t Grace she was feeling grumpy with—it was Penbrook.
You want the truth, but not too much of it. That was what he’d said on the very day he’d met her, seeing her much too clearly.
“Anyway, how are you?” Fia asked, not quite ready to share her plans to search for the thieves on her own. She’d much rather hear about all things Grace—the latest finds she’d hauled into Miscellany or what more she’d planned for Montrose’s birthday. The last Fia had heard, there would be a small picnic at Lorelei Park.
However, Grace seemed to have other things on her mind. “A strange thing happened today.”
Fia tensed in wary surprise. “Tell me.”
“Montrose and I took a carriage up to the Bramble District. We were supposed to meet with Lady Suri, who wanted to clear out one of her guest rooms before she refurnished it.” Grace’s brown eyes sparkled the way they always did at the thought of finding some priceless antique—the Suris’ manor, Highdear, was a place she’d been forever dying to see—and then her expression darkened. “But we had to turn around immediately after arriving.”
“She changed her mind?”
Grace shook her head. “A fire broke out in the Highdear apple orchard. The sky was a terrible gray, and the air reeked of smoke. Even at a distance we could see the field burning and burning.”
“That’s awful.” Fia’s heart ached for all those lost trees. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No, I don’t think so. Thank goodness.” Yet Grace looked anything but relieved. “The thing is, they haven’t been able to stamp out the fire—like a spell has strengthened the blaze.”
“That is strange,” Fia whispered, not at all liking the idea of some immortal flame.
“I’m sure they’ll snuff it out eventually,” Grace added practically.
Montrose edged his way to their corner just then, greeting them with a huge smile and dragging the conversation in an entirely different direction. “This place is as full as I’ve ever seen it. Just look.”
Grace didn’t seem to mind the shift in topic, glad to move on to more pleasant things. “Look at this.” She pointed to the butterfly in Fia’s hair as it slowly opened and closed its delicate wings. “Think your magician would spell one for me?”
Fia stiffened. “He’s not mine.”
“All right,” Grace laughed. “But would he spell me a dragonfly? Or maybe a ladybug?”
A shrug from Fia. “You’ll have to get in line.”
All three of them glanced toward Penbrook on the far side of the room just as he placed a silver helmet on a boy’s head, knighting him.
“How in the world did you get a Madbury to work here?” Grace asked.
Gravitating toward her, Montrose twined his fingers with Grace’s. “I’ve been wondering that myself.”
“It’s only temporary,” Fia said, which didn’t really answer anything.
“You’re going to need to give us more than that,” Grace insisted, and so Fia told them everything—about the shadowed figures outside the shop, the advertisement she’d posted, her trip to Never-Ending Story, the run-in with the stranger from the library, and her stalled-out investigation—and when she was through, her friends exchanged a look.
