Luna smiled, uncertain what to make of this level of familiarity on such short acquaintance. Sure, Bryony wouldn’t hesitate to call him whatever she desired (her trilling“Grimmsy”grated rather). But the aunties certainly wouldn’t approve of Luna being on a first-name basis with a young man she’d met only a handful of times. Maybe she could manageWard. If she put her mind to it.
“Oh,” she added, realizing the moment was passing, “and, um, Luna. Please. Just Luna is fine.”
Ward grinned, as though she’d bestowed a gift. “Thanks, Luna.”
He led her all the way back to the dancing pavilion. While he stood in line at Chickin’ Lickin’ to buy her the promised sandwich, Luna watched while the musicians tuned up. No thaumatic radio and speakers here, Luna was pleased to see. Just good, jazzy, live music. There was an upright piano with its top propped open, a saxophone player, several trumpets, and a handful of instruments she did not recognize, along with an enthusiastic drummer, keen to get started.
One familiar figure stood among the rest. She waved to the fiddler of Addle Street, who shot her a gap-toothed smile in response.
“Friend of yours?” Ward asked, appearing at her side with his hands full of paper-wrapped sandwiches.
“You could say that.” Luna followed Ward to a table for two. He darted back to the vendor and returned with lemonades, while Luna arranged their sandwiches across from each other. He set her lemonade in front of her and took his seat. She peeled back the paper and took a bite. An unexpected groan of pleasure vibrated in her throat.
“Good, eh?” Ward said.
“It’s heaven in a mouthful!”
“I told you. Just what a body needs after fete wheels and haunted houses.” He ate half his own sandwich in a few quick bites before adding, “Chickin’ Lickin’ comes to town every year and sets up a booth for Saint Jollify. It’s dynamite! But there’s no brick-and-mortar shop anywhere in Ballycastle. Believe me, I know—I’ve looked. I’m pretty certain they use sorcery in the batter, but all the SSSD are understrictordersnotto investigate.”
Luna half-unconsciously pulled the sleeve of her cardigan a little farther over her left wrist. “I would have expected the SSSD to be rather more dedicated to their calling,” she ventured, not quite meeting his gaze.
Ward laughed out loud at this. “Even the most hard-nosed SSSD official knows when to use a bit of discernment. There’s sorcery and then there’ssorcery.”
Luna’s heart warmed a little as she took another bite. But she couldn’t shake the nervous feeling twisting in her chest. After all, Ward might be saying this to put her off her guard. There was simply no way a keen-eyed wardsman like himself had neglected to notice her heptagram tattoo. Was this why he’d been paying her all this special attention? He might not be as off-duty as he claimed.
Appetite dulled, Luna set her sandwich down on her plate. She picked up her lemonade instead and took a long pull through the straw. It was sweet and cool, and she was parched. Though what she could really go for just then was a spot of tea. Not something one would find among the vendors of Saint Jollify. Perhaps she shouldn’t have left her safe little nook behind the counter after all.
Ward finished his sandwich and started on his chips. “I’m glad I was able to make it out here for the fair,” he said between mouthfuls, “before going on assignment.”
“Assignment?” Luna queried.
“Yeah. I’m being sent with a special task force up north for a few weeks. We’ve finally sourced the origins of that enchanted face cream I’ve been hunting down. Some former sorcerer of the Nocturnus Institute went and installed himself in an old granary, if you’ll believe it. Made it up like a proper sorcerer’s tower! It’s all spell-warded and everything. Should be dangerous.”
Luna felt her cheeks go a little pale. She wrapped the fingers of her right hand around her left wrist. Ward was waiting for some sort of response, so she ventured: “You . . . you’ll be all right, won’t you?”
“I don’t know. Things can get pretty hairy when it comes to sorcery.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Will you worry about me? Until I’m back safe and sound?”
“Well, yes!” Luna answered, and blushed, wondering if she’d sounded too enthusiastic. “Yes, and . . . and I’ll say a prayer to the Green Mother for you. Every Sunday.”
Ward chuckled at this, shaking his head. Those dimples of his appeared, working their dangerous magic. “You really are something else, Luna Talbot,” he said. “Where did you say you’re from again?”
Her stomach tightened. “The Crimble Mountains. Plym,” she answered rather shortly.
“And are all the girls from the Crimble Mountains, Plym like you?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Luna took another sip of lemonade.
“So . . . sweet.” Ward waved a hand, encompassing all of her in her cherry-print dress and her cardigan and the little ribbon in her hair. “I don’t know. You’re like the kind of girl a chap’s mam always hopes he’ll bring home one day.”
Was it a compliment? Luna wasn’t sure. But the blush roared to her cheeks regardless. Compliment or not, there wasimplicationin his words.
Ward leaned in again, dimples dancing. “I like it when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Get all pink and flustered like that. Like you’ve never had a fellow notice how cute you are before, much less tell you about it.”
“I . . . I mean, I . . . well, that is, you see . . .”
