Page 51 of The Hopeless Romantic’s Guide to Enchantment

Perched on her throne, the Troll Queen was watching the chaos with a look of horror that I found deeply personally gratifying. “What are you doing? If you leave now, the curse will never be undone.”

The Bear Princess and Miss Penworthy stood together before the Troll Queen. “I am leaving,” said the princess. “And I am taking my wife with me.”

“I will not allow it,” said the Troll Queen.

“Funnily enough,” replied Miss Penworthy, “we don’t care.”

And without further comment, she and Miss Bickle both climbed onto the back of the Bear Princess and, with a last glance over their shoulders at the enraged Troll Queen and her castle that lies east of the sun and west of the moon, they rode away all three of them to freedom.

This is a shorter tale than most I have shared with my mortal readers. And since I have of necessity adopted a more folkloric idiom in telling it, I shall leave it here. It falls to me to say only that they did, indeed, all live happily ever after.

Well. Mostly.

I, meanwhile, remain exiled to your dismal reality, forced to sell my stories for scraps. I trust that you, in your own life, will have better fortune.

Fare thee well, reader.

And remember to always trust talking animals.

SPEAKER AND

CALLIGRAPHER

By

VIDA CRUZ-BORJA

There he is, my lady,” Agreha whispered conspiratorially, just low enough for Verda to catch. “Handsome as always!”

Verda’s gaze darted toward the far end of the buzzy marble-tiled dining hall, toward the young man in question. Lin of Quarendell: tall, long and wavy brown hair that looked fashionably windblown on him and unkempt on anyone else, easy smile framed by a light scruff that elicited swoons and sighs from all sorts of admirers. Striking eyes, purple as the sky at twilight. Well-mannered, well-spoken – horribly glib at times, really – and unfortunately for Verda, the best calligrapher in all the Library. Probably all of Vanserai, in her begrudging estimation. He knew it, too; worse, he didn’t seem to care. In fact, he cared more that Verda cared.

“Now’s your chance to speak with him,” Agreha prodded.

“I would rather drink spell ink,” Verda said, feeling her resolve in the set of her teeth. “Or go head-to-head with an escaped chimera. Alone.”

Agreha wrinkled her pert little nose in distaste. As Verda’s lady-in-waiting, she was all too aware of their dynamic and had repeatedly expressed that it was beyond her comprehension. “That may be so, but you need him to collaborate on your proposal, don’t you? Archivist Sormen said so at your consultation yesterday.”

Verda paused, cursing how she ever thought she could advance her own logomancy by just focusing on speaking Aarakese at the expense of writing it. Oh, she could just kick her younger self. “That he did.”

“And your lord father said that it was now or never, didn’t he?” Agreha added, her voice like a nudge in the shoulders.

According to Duke Belegdani’s last letter, since the Head Librarian had announced that the successorship test would only happen this year, it was indeed now or never – and if never, she would be returning home for good and getting married off to whoever her father chose. Such was the usual fate of any duke’s child except the first (she was the sixth); she’d only been able to delay it by parlaying her chances at the position of Head Librarian and connecting it to Duke Belegdani’s political gain.

Verda’s hands slapped the table stingingly as she rose from the bench. “Fine.”

“Excellent!” Agreha pounded her palm with her fist. “I’ll have someone wrap up your breakfast so you can eat it later. Good luck, my lady!”

Verda walked – stalked, really – toward Lin and the wall of tittering admirers both male and female. He really was a good head taller than the tallest of them, so stupidly tall that she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes during every diatribe.

Lin hadn’t seen her approach yet. To her horror, after he gave the crowd a little wave and disengaged, he turned to leave. Lin’s stupidly long stride would quickly take him to one of the side doors out of the hall. Gods forbid the entire Library should witness her chasing after him!

“L-Lin!” Verda called – half a summons, half a declaration of war. Her feet staggered to the beat of her stutter.

Lin froze in his tracks. He spun around, searching. When his twilight eyes locked on her sunrise ones, surprise lit them up. He didn’t keep walking, at least.

“This is the first time you’ve ever called me by my name, Snowflake,” he commented with a kind of dry awe as she came within earshot. “What’s the occasion? Think I dumped vinegar on your omelette?”

“Ooh, look who’s testy. Someone steal your shampoo again, Pretty Boy?” The words were out of Verda’s mouth before she had time to think. She clapped her palms to her cheeks, shook her head. With all her being, she ignored the tingle of the blush coloring her entire face and the small crowd birthing new rumors at her back. “We should talk some where private.”