Luna set to work inspecting the shop, searching for clues. There was nothing taken from the register or the strongbox in the back. She counted the tiger lilies, but they were all accounted for, and all the supplies in the storage room were perfectly neat and in order. The shop floor itself was in pristine condition as well, better than she’d left it. Had Mr. Grimm returned from his date and finished tidying up himself? Then simply collapsed in the middle of the floor from sheer exhaustion? But why had he left the door open like that?
Once the tea was brewed, Luna poured a cup, returned to Mr. Grimm’s side, and knelt. He lay with his head pillowed on one arm. It reminded Luna rather strongly of when she’d helped him after he collapsed over Lord Bruxley. Was it possible he had performed another reckless act of sorcery last night? But how could he? She’d not given her permission, and the SovereignTroth was binding. Unless he’d lied about that. Tricking her into a false sense of security.
“Mr. Grimm,” she said, her voice stern. She drew a little breath, exhaled it in a huff. This wasnothow she’d expected to begin this day. She’d honestly thought he’d be out in Garden by the time she arrived, avoiding her, as had become his habit of late. “Mr. Grimm!” she said again, then reached out and patted his face sharply. When he offered no response, she began to feel truly concerned.
Worrying her lip still more roughly, Luna fetched a clean handkerchief from her pocket and soaked a corner of it in the smelly tea. Wadding it up, she held it under her employer’s nose. The effect was as good as smelling salts. His nostrils flared, and his eyes popped open, staring wildly up at her.
Then, with a gasping “Eeeeeeeeergh!”he rolled onto his back, propped up onto his elbows, shaking that lock of pale hair back from his forehead. His bright blue irises were white-ringed with terror.
“Mr. Grimm!” Luna exclaimed, holding out a calming hand. “Mr. Grimm, it’s all right! It’s me. It’s only me.”
He blinked rapidly. His lips moved several times before he dragged in a gasp of air, then managed to push out a few slurred words. “Where am I?”
“You’re home, of course,” Luna answered gently. “The Arcane Bouquet. You left the door open, did you know?”
“I . . . did?” He turned his head sharply, staring at the shut and fastened door. He frowned, his brow wrinkling with confusion.
“All’s secure now, not to worry,” Luna said. “I went over the whole shop, the register, the strongbox. Nothing seems to have been taken.”
“Garden?” he gasped, his head whipping back to stare at her again.
“Secure. The key is in the pot where it should be. Everything’s fine, Mr. Grimm.”
“Never mind!”Debbie croaked and took flight from her skull. She landed on her master’s shoulder and pecked his ear affectionately. Nigel nodded, expelling a long breath. He managed to sit up a little more, pushing off from his elbows. His back hunched, and his head leaned so far forward, he almost looked like he was going to topple. But he stayed semi-upright somehow.
“Tea?” Luna said, offering him the Sniff-Me-Not.
He accepted gratefully, then recoiled as he lifted it to his lips and caught a whiff of the steam. “Is this your aunties’ hangover cure?”
“The very same.”
“I’m not hungover.”
“Then what are you, Mr. Grimm?”
“I am . . .” He hesitated. Blinked. Frowned.
Then, without another word, he took a large gulp of tea.
“Mmmm hmmm.” Luna got to her feet then held out a hand for the teacup. He gave it to her, and she held out her other hand to him. He stared at her fingers for a moment. Then, slipping his hand into hers, he allowed her to help him up onto his feet. The moment he was standing, she pulled away. For just an instant, she almost thought he tried to maintain his grip on her fingers but he released her the next instant. And she might have imagined it anyway.
“Back to the nook with you, Mr. Grimm,” she said, turning and marching away from him. She set the still mostly-full cup of tea down on the counter. “Finish your Sniff-Me-Not, and I’ll make you a nice cup of chamomile to cleanse the palate afterwards. Deal?”
Her employer swayed a little on his feet, looking as though he might keel over once more. With a nod, he managed to staggerhis way back to the counter. He lifted and lowered the hinged portion very carefully, very gingerly, as though afraid of making too much noise. His eyes kept scanning the shop, and Luna watched his gaze settle with some consternation on the double-delight rose. Luna peered at the rose herself, but it looked very sweet and demure in its pot. Maybe a few more blooms to its name than it had boasted yesterday. Nothing more.
“I’ll be back in two ticks, Mr. Grimm,” Luna said and made her way to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder as she went, “I’ll fetch you that chamomile!”
Once she was safely in the kitchen and away from him, she paused a moment with her back to the door and placed her hand on her stomach, grimacing against the sudden surge of tears which threatened to rise. Why was this so hard? Harder than she’d expected. Coming back here, acting normal. After everything she’d realized . . . after deciding what must be done . . .
Fingers shaking, she dashed a stray tear from her cheek. Then, sniffing hard, she lifted her chin. She was not going to succumb to weeping again. Not at work. Not when Mr. Grimm was expecting her back with his chamomile momentarily.
Not when she had a plan.
“One month,” she whispered. “Then you’re out of here. For good.”
She could do it. She could survive the intervening weeks. She’d survived much worse, hadn’t she?
If she could just keep that image of his hand on Bryony’s thigh out of her brain in the meantime.
