Between the Sea and Stars by Chantal Gadoury

Author:Chantal Gadoury [Gadoury, Chantal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9788826001784
Publisher: The Parliament House
Published: 2018-02-28T18:30:00+00:00

15

Lena jolted at the sound of the lock clicking into place.

“To keep Jepsen out,” Soren assured her. “Not to keep you in. You’re ruining your apron.”

Lena realized she was clutching the flowery fabric at her waist. Edwin had sent her here. Edwin had called her his friend. Edwin could be trusted. She smoothed the apron over her skirt and tried her best to think reasonably. To subdue the terror pulsing against her chest.

“For someone who came looking for me, you sure don’t seem pleased to have found me.” Soren’s soft eyes held her gaze, stunningly green, the color of sea glass shining in the sun.

“I’m here for a package,” Lena managed to say. “For Edwin. Edwin Wyatt.”

Soren’s brow darted to his hairline. His whole face brightened, in fact, mouth lifting into an easy smile.

“Now that’s a name I didn’t expect to hear,” he said, amusement faint on his tongue.

“What did you expect?”

He slid his long fingers into the pockets of his pale blue trousers and considered her question.

“You know, I’m not sure,” he decided. “Edwin usually sends his grandson after his orders. I’d rather you come ’round from now on, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know Jace. That’s reason enough to prefer a visit from . . . anyone else.”

Lena blushed, waiting for Soren’s gaze to dip lower. His eyes remained trained to her face, his good-natured expression never wavering.

“Speaking of not knowing you,” he started, and Lena raised a brow. “Edwin gave you my name. Shall I ask him for yours, or . . .”

Warmth poured over Lena’s skin, furious and delightful. “Lena,” she said.

“Are you staying at the inn?”

“I am.” Lena worried her bottom lip. “The Wyatts . . . took me in.”

“Took you in?” Soren lowered his brow, waiting for her to explain.

I was shipwrecked. I was shipwrecked! Lena knew she should say. But lying to so many people was becoming exhausting. And Soren Emil hadn’t forced her hand. Not exactly. Not yet. So she said nothing. To his credit, Soren didn’t press her for answers. Silence stretched between them instead, like ripples of expectation—thin and delicate and swift to vanish. Lena’s stomach growled, and she clutched her belly, embarrassed.

“I’ll put a kettle on,” Soren said. “This way.”

He moved past Lena, making a wide berth, as if afraid his nearness might send her darting away. He kept his eyes level with the dim corridor ahead, leading her toward the back of the shop, not once glancing over his shoulder to see if she’d followed him. Still, Lena felt his attention, the inexplicable awareness that binds two people when they are wholly alone together in close quarters.

Her eyes adjusted slowly as they moved into the increasing darkness of the hall. The walls on either side were lined with shelves, and on those shelves were . . . books. Dozens upon dozens of books, stacked one on top of another, or pressed together between sturdy figurines.

Lena gaped. She’d seen books before—thin and waterlogged, the parchment contained by their leather bindings half-dissolved by the sea.

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