“I’m not sure.” She picked up the tin and peered at the ingredients inside. “Looks like red taerel with raspberries, hibiscus, and lemongrass, with”—she sniffed delicately—“a touch of ground maca root. Ah, that’s right! It’s one of Auntie Aurora’s blends. She calls it Tea for a Time of Prayer.”
Mr. Grimm raised an eyebrow. “And are you feeling particularly prayerful this afternoon, Miss Talbot?”
“Not yet.” Luna smirked. “But I haven’t finished my tea, have I?”
Mr. Grimm saluted her with a raised cup and took a tentative sip. He swallowed, frowned, pursed his lips. “Wait a second. I feel a . . . a certainholinessoverwhelming me.” He looked down into his cup and shook his head. “This is powerful stuff. I might just have to close down the shop for the rest of the afternoon and spend the day on my knees in the chantry house. Your aunties really are miracle workers.”
Luna snorted and rolled her eyes. As far as she could tell, Mr. Grimm had never prayed a day in his life! It would take a miracle beyond her aunties’ abilities to get him into a chantry house. Still, that impish look in his eye warmed her right down to her toes. “They have their skills, Mr. Grimm,” she answered dryly. “They have their skills.”
He took another thoughtful sip. “I don’t believe you’ve ever told me how it was you came to live with them. The aunties, I mean.” The momentary merriment slipped from his gaze, replaced by solemn curiosity. “Your parents . . . ?”
“Dead,” Luna said simply. She swirled the pinkish liquid in her cup, watched how little flecks of leaves moved and swayed in a tiny maelstrom.
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “I was quite young when it happened.”
“It?” he queried softly.
But Luna didn’t care to tell that part of the story. “I was passed around to various families in the parish for a little while,” she hurried on, as though she’d not heard him, “until it was discovered my mother was distantly related to the aunties. They’re really more like my third cousins once removed, you see. And they lived all the way across Plym from where I grew up!”
“And where was that?”
“The Crimble Mountains. I told you.”
“No, I meant where did you grow—”
“One of my earliest memories,” she continued breezily, talking over any further questions she did not wish to answer, “is of being bundled onto the train one cold, winter morning, with an address and stamps pinned to my brown jacket. Just like a brown paper parcel! It was a smoky, crowded, miserable journey, and I believe I cried the entire way. But then, two days later, I stepped out onto the platform at the village of Greater Snoring, and there they were. Four of them back then: Extremely Great Aunt Amelia and her three daughters, Apolonia, Arabella, and Aurora. A trio of witches and a great witch queen, or so I thought at the time. And I wasn’t half-wrong either! Tealeaf Cottage was their palace, the tea gardens their kingdom, and they presided over Greater Snoring with great dignity. I was their pint-sized princess.” Tears pricked on the edges of her eyes. Luna blinked quickly, refusing to let them fall. “So you see, it isn’t a Sad Little Orphan Tale after all. I had quite a happy childhood.”
Mr. Grimm was silent for some moments. “You must miss them,” he said at last, his voice low.
There were so many questions behind that statement. Questions and, strangely enough, a trace of guilt. Luna frowned. What did Mr. Grimm have to feel guilty about? It wasn’thisfault the Authorities had marked her with this stupid heptagram tattoo. It wasn’thisfault a great terror of sorcery swept throughout Plym in the wake of the Shadowbane Lady’s rise and fall, causing even old family friends to look on Luna with fear-limned eyes.
It wasn’thisfault the shadows arrived on her doorstep.
“I do,” Luna said, taking care that her voice remained neutral. “But I’m having an adventure, aren’t I? Something that nevercould have happened back home in Greater Snoring.” She took a large gulp of tea, let the delicately spiced liquid glide soothingly down her throat. Time to change the subject. “And how is business today, Mr. Grimm?” she asked firmly.
He blinked once, opened his mouth. Closed it again. Then, submitting to the abrupt conversational shift, he answered, “Booming,” and tapped the logbook with one finger. “Those tables of yours were certainly a brainstorm. Customers, who might otherwise peek in, see a crowd at the counter, and leave, now have a place to linger. And we do tend to sell more flowers to lingerers. I only regret not implementing your idea sooner. At this rate, I’ll have to give you a raise.”
“Oh, no, Mr. Grimm.” Luna waved a dismissive hand. “I wouldn’t dream of accepting. Not until we’ve got our feet well under us.”
They held each other’s gaze for a moment. Then both, as though on cue, turned away. The wordswe,our,andusseemed to echo in Luna’s ears. She hastily lifted her teacup as a sort of shield, but found herself peering at Mr. Grimm covertly over the rim. Was that a tinge of color staining his cheeks?
He blew on his tea.
And her gaze dropped to his lips.
She’d noticed them before: full and supple, unexpectedly so in a face that might otherwise be described asascetic.But even that asceticism, which had rather intimidated her at first meeting, had smoothed out on further acquaintance. And it was always counterbalanced by that floppy yellow hair of his, whenever it managed to escape the pomade he insisted on using. His features were fine, almost delicate, but all quite squarely cut.
It was difficult to reconcile the polite and proper man in front of her with that image she’d glimpsed in his tea mug all those weeks ago. That man’s eyes weren’t full of shadowed sorrow, asthough constantly waiting for the next shoe to drop. They had burned.
What would it take,Luna wondered in the privacy of her mind,to make them burn again?
The answer came in tones of stern warning:A redhead.
Luna set her cup down in its saucer. “Well, I’m done!” she said brightly. “Are you? Here, let me take that back to the kitchen for you.”
“Thank you, Miss Talbot,” Mr. Grimm said rather absently. His attention seemed to be caught by something out the front windows. Curious, Luna looked to see a large automagic truck pass by with strange metal contraptions sticking out from the bed. Pieces of a fete wheel, unless she missed her guess. “Something seems to be going on down by the harbor today,” Mr. Grimm observed.
