Bookish and the Beast (Once Upon a Con #3)(59)

Is this what Amara felt when she kissed Carmindor for the first time? Or is this more like the times she kissed Sond in Mom’s favorite books? Like a newfound star burning so bright, ripping through the darkness like a lightsaber?

He kisses so meticulously, with the certain sort of patience only strategy can provide, the kisses tender, but the edges sharp. Vance is not Sond, but I daresay he kisses like him, and every place his lips touch—my mouth, my nose, my cheek, my neck—lights up like a star in a constellation of us.

And suddenly, we’re at the final book, and it’s just irony that it’s the last Starfield novel ever written, before they discontinued the series. The Last Carmindor.

I turn to Vance. “Want to do the honors?”

He pushes the book back to me. “All yours.”

So I reach up and slide the last book into place at the end of the shelf. Like the puzzle piece clicking into place, the library is complete. “Well, that was an adventure,” I whisper, my voice cracking a little at the edges. Because now it’s over, my job is done, and just like that—

Vance took my hand and squeezed it tightly. “It’s not over yet.”





THE LIBRARY IS COMPLETE.

Yesterday, when I took Rosie’s hand and told her the adventure wasn’t over yet, I meant every word. I would never have dreamed of saying something so corny a year ago—even a month ago—but maybe people can change.

Maybe I can change.

I want to.

Today is October 11.

My birthday. It was also supposed to be the last day in this nowhere town, but now I…think I can last another week, you know? Or two. I mean—it really isn’t that terrible. Perhaps it never was.

After a week of playing phone tag with Natalia, I finally catch her between meetings. “Vance, it’s a pleasant surprise,” she greets me in her sharp, gravelly voice. “How’s the house doing?”

“You undersell it every time you call it a house—it’s a castle.”

She laughs. “Ah, my ex-husband loved building weird shit. Isn’t the library gorgeous?”

I pace in the kitchen. “That’s actually what I’m calling about. That Starfield collection you have—how much do you want for it?”

That seems to surprise her. “How much?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I’m not sure. Truthfully, I bought the Starfield collection from a local last year,” Natalia says. “They were selling it for much less than it was worth. Most of the books were in mint condition, too! There was only one that wasn’t. It was personalized.”

Personalized?

I run my fingers along the spines of the books, slowly circling the room. “Which one?”

“Oh, one of the first ones, I think—one about Sond’s imprisonment, perhaps? I think he falls for Amara, but I can’t remember. I’m sorry, Vance,” she says, and there’s a beep on the other end. “Christ, can’t anyone just leave me alone?” Grumbling, she says something else under her breath, silencing the incoming call, and adds, “So, why do you want to buy the collection? You aren’t a very big reader.”

Absently, I pick through the books, trying to remember if there were any that fit that description. “I guess people can change.”

“They certainly can.”

My fingers come to rest on the waterlogged copy that began this entire ridiculous scenario, and for some reason—I pull it out.

“Well, I have to go, but if you like those books so much, they’re yours. Happy birthday, Vance. Thinking of heading back?”

I let out a breath. “I don’t really know, honestly.”

And that means I…can leave. I can go back home. I can go back to my old life. My stepfather and my mother can’t keep me here anymore. All my life I have been trying to be what my parents have wanted me to be, and I often rebelled—oftentimes to ruination.

But today, I’m in charge of my own life for the first time, though it doesn’t feel anything like I thought it would. It feels like I’ve been offered the pilot seat and a vast galaxy and no coordinates. It’s overwhelming.

“Oh!” Natalia adds as she begins to hang up. “I do remember that the inscription wasn’t where it normally is, which was why we bought the collection in the first place, thinking they were all unmarked. It’s at the very end. Last page. God, I almost missed it! Have a great birthday, Vance.”

“Thanks, you too,” I say absently as I hear the call end, and I drop my phone onto one of the chairs and break open the waterlogged book. The spine crinkles as I leaf toward the first page. Not the title page but the end—where at the end?

I start prying every page unstuck one at a time until—

My breath catches in my throat.

A moment later, I see movement out of the corner of my eye and I glance up, and there is Rosie standing in the doorway. Her hair is pulled up in a bun, and she’s wearing garish school pride colors—a blue-and-yellow sweater with a yowling wildcat—so it’s almost impossible to miss her. She smiles at me and comes inside. In the sunlight that slants through the windows, her brown hair shimmers with strands of auburn, and her hazel eyes look almost green in the sun. My chest feels tight, as tight as my grip on The Starless Throne.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over this sight,” she says in awe, spinning around looking at the books and her hard work, floor to ceiling. “It’s beautiful.”