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“Far from.” Andromeda stifled a yawn. “Sorry, I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“Stay here tonight,” Fia invited, not at all wanting to be alone with her spiraling thoughts. She had so many questions for her mother she’d never be able to ask. “I’ll watch over the both of you, and please, let’s talk about anything else.”
“Would you?” Andromeda asked, stretching her legs out so her stockinged feet settled on Fia’s lap. “Watch over us?”
“Of course.”
“She’s taken good care of me so far.” Penbrook cast a furtive look in Fia’s direction that had her unaccountably blushing.
Swiping a hunk of bread from the tray with one lazy arm, Andromeda didn’t seem to notice, occupied with changing the subject at Fia’s request. “I’ve been well taken care of at the hotel too, except for today. I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding, but I requested someone wake me at seven this morning, but they woke me at eleven. I lost all those hours.” She chewed unhappily. Maybe four hours wouldn’t seem like much to someone who had thousands more to waste, but Fia knew Andromeda did not have any to spare. “I might have missed seeing my last sunrise.”
“The sun rises before seven this time of year,” Penbrook pointed out, rather unsympathetically.
“We’ll catch it tomorrow,” Fia said before Andromeda could snap back at Penbrook.
“And tonight?” Andromeda asked, a haunted look in her eye.
“We drink our worries away.” Penbrook reached for the bottle rather pathetically, his arm lifting, then falling again, and all he managed was to sink lower in the chair. If he didn’t stop melting, soon he’d be on the floor.
Andromeda snorted. “I think you’re going to go belly-up first.”
“I’d bet on me too.”
“How can you both be so morbid?” Fia cried. “Look, I was thinking—”
“The bath was good for that, wasn’t it?” Penbrook grinned.
She saw past it, though, the mask of that smile, his dark eyes dulled of their usual shine and their ring of blue. How he made light of things because the alternative was to spend his last days in utter despair. He seemed to have just about given up hope.
Fia hadn’t, though.
“I’ve tried and tried to think of ways to break your curse, but I hadn’t considered how I might slow it—a spell to still the hands of the clock and give you both more time.”
Andromeda let out a wistful sigh. “I’ll take any more time you can give me.”
“More balls you want to attend?” Penbrook lazily twirled his fingers to some imagined song.
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing at all.” Fia had almost forgotten how very much better life could be with a sprinkling of frivolous joy. Even when—especially when—things were at their worst.
“Then how about a masque?” Penbrook’s head lolled toward Fia when he spoke. “While I was soaking, I had an idea too. We need to return The Book of Ribs to Thistledown, so we might as well enjoy ourselves while doing it, don’t you think?”
Fia crinkled her nose in confusion, then all at once realized what he meant. “The Masque of Parchment and Ink?”
“Exactly.”
“You think we can just walk through the doors without an invitation? Even if we had one, they’d never let me in.”
“Good thing you’ll be wearing a mask, then.” Penbrook sounded very pleased with himself.
Fia wasn’t yet convinced. “And what? We’ll just hand over the book?”
“Of course not. We’ll put it back where we found it. The way the grimoire scampers about, it won’t be long before the librarians notice it’s returned.”
“Oh, and I can get us invitations.” Andromeda wiggled her toes, completely confident in her ability to find a way into one of the most exclusive galas in Trivoris, where the only ones welcome were the wealthy bidders and would-be donors.
Or someone like Grace, who’d somehow found an invitee willing to part with their tickets, likely for a price. Knowing Penbrook, he would have thought of her too.
