I arched my neck to look up at whoever this was and gasped as Riven Shiu pressed a finger to his lips.
I threwmy arms around his neck, and he wrapped me in a tight hug, lifting me off my feet and whirling me around before he set me down.
“Riven,” I said, and he pressed a finger to my lips, a tingle shooting through them at the contact.
Oh, right. Riven was kind of famous. Incredibly famous, actually. He’d spent the last ten years building an amazing career in the Witchlands as a bard.
Layla squeaked, her already big eyes going wide as she recognized the figure under the hood. I shook my head, and she mimed tying her lips.
“He doesn’t want any attention,” I whispered.
“Is there somewhere private we can go?” Riven asked quietly.
I gripped his arm. “I know just the spot.”
I sent Layla a questioning look.
“I’ll take over.” She shooed me away. “You go.”
I grabbed Riven’s hand and led him through the shop. We wove past tables full of patrons chatting over tea and macarons from the local bakery. A shelf jutted out in the back, and behind it sat a cozy little alcove, completely hidden from view. I liked to come here after a long shift and sit on the cushioned seat while gazing out the window at Thistlegrove. The back of the shop had the perfect view of Shrubble River, the rushing water glinting under the sun, bubbling over colorful stones.
I sat on the U-shaped bench and inched my way toward the window, Riven following until we’d both settled. He pushed off his hood, then undid the clasp of his cloak.
The sun haloed his thick black hair, parted to the side, styled immaculately with not a strand out of place. The light glowed against his golden-brown skin, and he smiled, dimples pecking his cheeks. There was a reason half the witches of the Witchlands were in love with Riven Shiu. Both his voice and his face were perfection. Not that I cared about either of those things. I knew him long before he could sing, long before he turned into the sensation that he was.
His angular eyes crinkled, and I cleared my throat, leaning forward. “So where has the famous bard been to in the last year since I’ve seen you?”
He shook his head. “Oh no. I’m not the one who has interesting updates.” He gave me a pointed look. “I arrived at Arcane Creatures Emporium, ready to see you, when I glanced across the street and saw you through the window. A tea shop? You now own a tea shop?”
I shifted, tucking a leg under me. “Ah, yes. I’m quite the tea connoisseur.”
He laughed. “I never knew you wanted to own a tea shop. When we were growing up, all you talked about was seeing the world. The wonders that awaited you.”
“That was a long time ago, Riven.” Yes, I’d had silly dreams of traveling the realm when I was younger, but then I grew up and reality hit. My mother died, and I needed to be there for my father. Technically, he wasn’t my biological father. The man that held that title abandoned us shortly after my mother became pregnant. Then she had me, and a few years later, met my stepfather. He treated me like his own daughter from the first day we’d met.
After Mama died when I was young, he took me in, raised me. After everything he did for me, I owed him this. I took care of him like he always had me, made him take his medicine, made him eat healthy meals. I organized everything in his shop, put systems in place to so things ran smoothly. I couldn’t up and leave. I’d already done that once, and it ended in disaster.
Plus, who just traveled for a living? I had to support myself. I had to do something with my life. And here I was, finally doing it.
“So how are you?” I placed a hand on his leg, then quickly took it back, cheeks heating. “How was your latest tour?” I said quickly.
“It was great.” He leaned a shoulder against the back of the bench. “Everyone’s responded so well to my music. I can’t believe all this is happening. It feels surreal sometimes.”
“Do you ever miss home?” I asked, not posing the real question lingering on the tip of my tongue.Do you ever miss me?
He smiled, those dimples showing again. “Let’s see.” He ticked off his fingers. “I’ve definitely missed the macarons at the bakery. I’ve missedwalks along the river. I’ve missed old man Veldar yelling at everyone to stay off his property.”
That brought a smile to my face. We’d been mischievous as children, often running around Veldar’s tree house as he sat up above us on his porch, shaking his wand and threatening to turn us to bugs if we didn’t knock it off. He was well over a hundred years old and still at it.
“You know it’s amazing he’s still alive.” Riven’s face grew thoughtful. “And doesn’t seem to age.”
“I know.” I gasped. “Do you think he uses anti-aging potions?”
“With those eye bags?” Riven cocked a brow. “I don’t think so.” He lifted his hand, three fingers held up. “So that’s three things I’ve missed. What else... what else...” His eyes widened. “Oh, I’ve missed watching your father chase escaped creatures through the village while everyone else runs for their lives.”
“While he tries to reassure them that they won’t get eaten,” I added.
“Naturally.” Riven cleared his throat and did his impression of my father, voice going nasally. “Stay calm, everyone. The griffin only likes to eat already dead things. So as long as you’re alive, it won’t eat you.”
