Jax was arranging a bouquet when someone cleared his throat.

Jax looked up. A customer with a monocle tapped a quill against the counter. The man's coat was singed, which wasn't surprising; when "Blooms and Brooms" was this packed, customers were inevitably shoved against the Fire Lily, and the plant took great offense to anyone invading its personal space. Jax peered at the customer, who looked very...

Sweaty.

But also familiar.

Realization struck Jax. "I remember you."

The customer leaned forward. "You do?"

Jax nodded. "You came into my shop a few months ago." It was coming back to him, now: the roof shattering, cowering beneath a desk, Percy appearing in a blaze of glory... "Gardenias, wasn't it?"

"That's right." The customer mopped his brow with a handkerchief. "Wow. This is such an honour. I'm such a huge fan."

Jax paused. "Can I get you anything?"

He hated to be rude, but the queue was at least ten people long, and Sara — his assistant — was out with another case of dragon boils. Miraculously, Sara never seemed to scar, although she assured him that this case was quite nasty, and she'd be out for at least a week. Jax had spotted her at the pub only yesterday.

"Oh." The customer hesitated. "Well..." He shoved the quill across the counter. "Maybe an autograph?"

The man held out a book. Jax looked down to see his own name staring back: A New Type of Hero by Jaxon Blackwater. Something warm curled in Jax's chest. Even now, after signing hundreds of copies, he didn't think he'd ever get used to this feeling.

Jax scribbled his name. Several customers shuffled closer.

Someone thrusted a quill in his direction. "Can I get one?"

A hand went up. "I want one, too!"

A woman shook her head. "I finished it in a night."

The customer adjusted his monocle, clutching his copy to his chest. "The bit about the man-eating birds? Brilliant."

The bell chimed as another customer entered the shop.

"Alright, alright!" A surly figure shoved through the crowd. "Leave the man alone. He's trying to run a respectable establishment, and flowers don't grow themselves."

"Actually," Jax said, "they kind of do."

"Whatever." Asa stopped at the counter. "Here. It's your turn this week."

Asa shrugged off his backpack. Several customers took a large step back as Asa reached inside, but he was only taking out a winged piglet, who let out a yawn, ruffling her wings like an autumn tree shaking off leaves.

Jax sighed. "I can't believe I have to share my pegapiglet."

Asa's gaze was withering. "She's our pegapiglet, Fish Food. Oh, and I'll take some a bouquet." He nodded at some flowers. "Sapphy wants one. Gods know why. I've told her she can just go outside and pick flowers herself, if she wants them so badly." Asa tickled Bibi under the chin, his voice shifting to a croon. "Goodbye, sweetums. Daddy loves you."

Jax pulled a face. "Could you not?"

"You're one to talk," Asa said. "Where is Romes, anyway?"

Jax picked up the scissors. "She's at the academy."

Romes spent most of her days there. She'd opened the training academy two months ago, and so far, twelve young women had signed up to learn how to fight. Self-defense, Romes told him, is the most valuable skill a woman can learn. Then she'd whacked him with a tea towel and stolen the last of the spaghetti. As if to prove her point.

Asa nodded at the wall. "Nice artwork."

Jax placed flowers on the table. "Thanks."

"You didn't put his name on it?"

Jax followed Asa's gaze to three paintings. They were a triptych (a word he'd learned from Percy's accompanying notes) depicting two young men stretched beneath an apple tree; one man rested his chin on the other's shoulder, reading a book. Jax knew little about artwork, but several people had offered to purchase the paintings. A gallery owner had put in a bid just last week.

Not that Jax was planning to sell. He would have kept the paintings even if they'd been terrible, although he knew they'd be exceptional; Percy had always been irritatingly good at everything he'd tried.

"I thought about it," Jax admitted. "But I think Percy would have wanted people to appreciate his work for its own sake." He plucked some leaves. "Not because of his celebrity."

Asa shrugged. "Fair enough."

"Where's Sapphy?" Jax asked. "I thought she'd come into town with you."

Asa leaned back, warily eyeing Jax's gardening shears. "She's at the cottage. Another kid showed up from Netherton. This one was looked a bit like a human dartboard, so she stayed behind to patch him up."

Jax nodded. Children had been showing up at Asa and Sapphy's cottage in the country for weeks; kids fleeing cults, or orphans, or a combination of both. He'd been called upon several times to make poultices for healed wounds, or tea leaves to ease pain.

"Is the kid alright?" Jax asked.

"Fine." Asa withdrew a piece of cheese. "Or he will be, at any rate."

"How many does that make?"

"Twelve," Asa said, extending the cheese to Bibi. "The little twerps just keep showing up. I can't get rid of them."

Jax wrapped the flowers in paper. "I'm sure they're a real nuisance."

"Terrible," Asa agreed, absentmindedly stroking the pegapiglet. "They eat all my food, and they bleed all over the carpet. One of them even crawled onto my lap yesterday." He shuddered. "Ruined my best trousers. Can you imagine?"

Jax hid a smile. This was how things usually went, with Asa; he would act like the children were a nuisance until anyone threatened them, at which point he would happily claw out the other person's eyes.

Jax cut a ribbon. "Have you seen Xan?"

Asa pulled a face. "Seen him? He won't leave our bloody house! He keeps bringing Sapphy bird feathers. Don't ask me why."

Jax thought of a male bird shyly presenting a female with sticks for her nest. Sounded about right. "Has Xander asked her out yet?"

"No," Asa muttered. "And if he values his life, he won't."

Jax raised an eyebrow. "I thought you liked Xan."

"I like many things," Asa countered. "Ships, bacon, the chap that plays piano at the local pub... Wouldn't let any of them date my sister, though."

Jax tied a ribbon. "How's the bird sanctuary going?"

"Xander's obsessed with it," Asa sighed. "He must have rescued three hundred injured birds now. The man has a problem."

Jax debated pointing out that — after rescuing twelve children — Asa wasn't much better, but he didn't want his head crushed under a flowerpot, so he kept his mouth shut. Jax pushed the bouquet across the counter. Asa stared at it darkly, as if still imagining murdering Xander, and Jax cleared his throat.

"Asa?"

Asa didn't move. "Yes?"

Jax drummed his fingers on the counter. "Not that I don't love when you visit me at work. But there's a queue."

"Oh. Right." Asa scooped up the bouquet. "You're still coming for dinner next week?"

"Yes." Jax paused. "Remember that I'm—"

"Vegetarian," Asa said, waving a hand. "Yes, I know. The whole world knows, Fish Food, because you never shut-up about it." He gave Bibi a kiss, then turned for the door. "Bring Romes. I like her better than you."

"Everyone likes me better," Romes called, entering the shop.

Jax's head snapped up. She was dressed in form-fitting black leathers, her hair yanked into a hasty ponytail. So she'd come straight from the academy. But why was she back so early? Asa murmured something to Romes as he passed, and she gave him a playful shove, although her attention was primarily focused on...

Jax blinked.

A child.

A child that was bleeding all over the shop.

Jax hastily threw up a sign that read "Back in Five Minutes," murmuring apologies to customers as he hurried toward them. Romes swept hair out of her face. Dark circles ringed her eyes, but she was smiling, speaking to the girl in a reassuring voice.

Jax raised an eyebrow. "You brought a child."

Romes crouched down. "This is Sage."

"You brought a... bleeding child?" Jax asked, his eyes sweeping over the child's bloodied palm. The cut was shallower than he'd realized, although it must have hurt, because the girl's chin wobbled.

Romes reached for a medical kit. "She got herself with a double-sided sword."

Jax stared. "A double... sided..." He shook his head. "Why do they even make those?" He didn't bother asking why Romes had let a six-year-old child handle one; she would have given a grenade to a squirrel, if she thought the squirrel seemed capable.

Romes glanced up. "Do you have something? For the pain?"

Right.

Jax hurried back to the counter, digging through drawers. He returned with a fistful of leaves, which he extended to Sage.

"Here," Jax said. "Chew this."

Sage did as instructed, her fingers trembling slightly. Romes wound fresh bandages over the wound, and Sage held her breath, her fingers digging into the side of the chair. The girl looked up at the ceiling, blinking hard.

Romes touched her wrist. "You don't have to be brave. Let it out."

Sage shook her head.

"Sage," Romes said gently. "It's okay to cry."

Something in Sage's face crumpled.

She burst into tears. Messy, snot-choking tears, her small frame trembling. Romes stroked the girl's back, murmuring words of comfort, and something in Jax's chest tightened. How nice, he thought, for a child to be able to cry in this world.

Something odd passed over Romes' face. For a moment, Jax wondered if she was thinking of that sunny afternoon by a lake when the monsters came for her mother, but then she straightened, and the emotion was gone.

"I should take her home," Romes said. "Then get back to the others."

Jax raised an eyebrow. "You left children unsupervised in a room full of knives?"

"Of course not." Romes paused. "Xander stopped by. I left the kids with him."

"That's not much better."

Romes waved him off. She was halfway to the door when she paused, her hand resting on Sage's shoulder.

"Hey, Jax?"

"Yeah?"

Romes held his gaze. "I finished your manuscript at lunch."

Jax's heartbeat sped up. He'd just finished the second book in the series — A New Type of Villain — and Romes had volunteered to read it before he sent it off to his publisher. Jax alternated between thinking it was best thing he'd ever written and thinking that it deserved to be set on fire.

"And?" Jax managed.

Romes raised an eyebrow. "Princess Romes would never—"

"She's not called that anymore."

"Okay, fine," Romes said, rolling her eyes. "Princess Reanne would never sign a marriage contract without reading it. She's too smart for that."

Jax reached for his notepad. "What else?"

"You'd never poison someone with foxglove," Romes said. "Too traceable. Try thallium."

He scribbled frantically. "And?"

"The book was perfect," Romes said.

Jax paused, his quill hovering over the paper. Something snagged in his chest.

"Really?"

Romes' smile could have ignited seas. "The publisher will love it. I loved it." She crossed the shop, cradling Jax's face in her hands. "And I love you, Jaxon Blackwater, slayer of monsters and full-time florist."

She kissed him, hard, her mouth demanding and soft, and Jax had the dizzying sensation of melting, just as he always did. Kissing Romes was its own sort of siren magic; he could never get enough. She turned for the door, and Jax called out.

"Romes?"

She paused. Jax smiled.

"I love you, too."

Romes' face softened. It was the sort of look that only Jax got to see, and he treasured it more for it. "I'll see you later."

She steered Sage from the shop, and Jax turned back to the counter. Customers vied for his attention, waving fistfuls of coins, and cheerful babble spilled from the flower shop. Outside, impatient crates rattled over cobblestone, dislodging the occasional apple; the smell of cinnamon pastries drifted over Exerbury, mixing with pine and the coming bite of winter.

On a snowy rooftop some distance away, a single drawing fluttered in the breeze. If a passerby had noticed it, they might have exclaimed over the two young boys riding fearlessly through the woods, or perhaps admired the way the artist drew the boys' pen and paintbrush to look like swords. But the drawing was snatched up by a breeze, carried away to warmer seas — where, with a final gasp, it sank gratefully into the waters below.