“Says me.” I dropped the rag as the door opened.
I was about to yell out that we were closed when Riven stepped through. Butterflies took up residence in my stomach as he strode toward me, his lute strapped around his chest.
He walked behind the counter, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me. I sank into him, melted from the warmth of his body, the feel of his hard muscles?—
“Witch’s tits, can you two give it a rest already?”
I jumped from Riven, shooting a guilty look at Herman.
The dragon rolled his eyes. “You two need to just hole up in a cabin somewhere for a week, maybe a month, and give the rest of us some peace and quiet.”
“Not a bad idea,” Riven murmured. “We would be naked on every surface in that cabin.”
I elbowed him, and he let out a quiet laugh as Herman settled back down.
The door burst open again, this time a pigeon flying in with a letter clutched in its talons. It dropped the letter in Riven’s hands and flew away. One of my father’s pigeons. He’d trained them to deliver mail throughout the Witchlands. He’d even tried to get them to go beyond the Witchlands to the rest of Thaloria, but they’d been shot dead. Found just outside our borders. Everyone else in the realm tended to be suspicious of our magic, afraid of it.
Riven frowned down at the letter in his hand and the pigeon fluttered off. “It’s from my manager,” he said, then tore it open, reading it.
“Is everything okay?” The butterflies in my stomach turned into knots the deeper his frown grew.
“Well, don’t keep us here in suspense, man,” Herman said. “What does it say?”
I should’ve chastised Herman for being rude, but I kept my mouth shut, hoping Riven would tell us what was going on.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I have another tour opportunity,” he said.
“Oh.” Over the last few weeks, we’d talked a bit about Riven staying longer since he didn’t have any concrete plans. My heart sank. “That’s great news.”
He swallowed. “It’s in the mortal lands. A royal tour.”
My mouth dropped open. Witches didn’t tend to travel outside theWitchlands. Not when everyone else was afraid of us and our magic. To be invited was a huge opportunity. “What does that mean?” I asked.
His gaze dipped back down to the letter. “They want me to come and play for all the courts, for feasts, balls, weddings. It’s a big contract. The biggest I’ve ever gotten. I normally tour in taverns in the Witchlands. Not castles.”
This was huge. Riven was already famous, but this could elevate him to new levels. It also meant he’d be leaving soon—and traveling far, far away.
“How long is the tour?” I asked.
“One year,” he said.
One year. That was a long time.
I summoned a smile, my throat feeling sticky and thick. “I’m so happy for you.” I surged forward to give him a hug.
“Emma,” he said softly, and I pushed back.
“This is amazing,” I said like he hadn’t spoken. “We should go out to celebrate. Tonight. Let me go home and change and tell my father I’ll be out late.”
“Are you sure, Emma?” Riven asked, his eyes crinkling.
“Herman, can you finish closing up?” My voice shook.
“I suppose,” Herman said. “Although it would be nice to get an invite out every once in a while, you know.”
A tea cup flung itself at me from the shelf, and instead of ducking, I raised my hands to catch it, then threw it on the floor. It burst into hundreds of pieces. “Give it a rest already!” I shouted at the tea shop.
Riven and Herman stared at me with wide eyes as I let out a frustrated grunt.
