Page 74 of To Charm a Dark Prince

No kidding. With a breath, she suddenly felt exceedingly self-conscious about just marching around the square. It wasn’t like she had any money to buy anything with—hell, she didn’t even know what they used for money in Avalon.

The city was fascinating, with shops of every kind packed close together in tight little windowed rows. Cheese, bread, cakes—it felt like something out of a Dickens novel. She stopped to marvel at a store that sold hand-made wooden toys and puppets painted to look like all the fanciful creatures of Avalon. There were figurines of knights in a row, and she recognized Galahad and Lancelot. There was a man in a golden crown who must be Arthur. There was even one of a man with a gray beard and a dark robe who she was surehadto be Merlin.

But no Mordred.

Frowning, she moved on to the next store. It was a clothing shop. Next to it was a milliner and a cobbler. She could spend all day here, she was certain of it, going from shop to shop poking at all the amazing collections.

“Mind if I pop in here?” She gestured at one of the storefronts. It had caught her attention, not because it sold any one particular thing, but because it seemed to be sellingeverything.It was piled floor to ceiling withstuff.Baskets, chairs, signs, pots, pans, keys, doorknobs, everything she could imagine.

Mordred shrugged. “Do as you like.”

Smiling, she opened the door and pushed it open, the little bell overhead chiming to announce her arrival.

“Eh?” The shopkeeper looked up. He was an old man with a pair of tiny glasses perched on the end of his bumpy nose. “Oh. You’re new. And a—oh.” He squinted. “Ah. Well. Can’t say I’m surprised about the necklace. At least you aren’t in that damnable Crystal with everyone else.”

The man’s judgmental tone was both irritating and embarrassing.

Everyone was going to jump to the worst conclusions, weren’t they? That she was screwing Mordred for the sake of her freedom? There wasn’t anything she could do to stop that, she supposed. Rumors were rumors. And it was a pretty logical conclusion to jump to, she had to admit. “I. Um.” She frowned. “I’m new, yeah. I just…I’m just browsing.”

“Suit yourself, girl.” He waved a grizzled hand at her dismissively. “Just don’t break or steal anything.”

“I’ll do my best.” She walked down a narrow aisle. Drawers from some long-gone cabinet were stacked in a pile, each one overflowing with letters that looked like they were from a printing press. She picked up a few, turning them over curiously before putting them back. She was glad to have a moment to herself.

It lasted exactly two seconds.

“Psst—hey, kid!” someone whispered harshly.

Blinking, she turned around. No one was there. Furrowing her brow, she shrugged and went back to what she had been doing.

“Hey, hey up here—”

“What the fuck?” She stopped, and did as the voice said. She looked up. There, sitting on the shelf, was a metal, fake carved pumpkin. It looked made out of copper, as it had patinated into greens and blues. It had a face carved into it—or rather, cast, or whatever. Two circular eyes that were mismatched in size and a grinning, toothy smile.

As she watched, two small, amber dots appeared in the eye sockets, as if it had opened them. Not white—but amber.

“Get me down from here,” the pumpkin whispered. “My body is another aisle over. I need your help. I’d do it m’self, but I’m pretty sure that arse of a shopkeeper would notice me shuffling around.”

“Why would I help you?” she whispered back. “And who are you, anyway?”

“You’re gonna help me, because the day has come. It’s time to rally the forces and start the revolution. You’re—I mean, you’re an elemental, aren’t you? That means you want magic to be free again. Right?” The little lights went off then on again. The pumpkin had blinked. “Name’s Bertin. What’s your name?”

“Gwen.” His name wasBert.Something about that made her want to laugh. But she let it go. “What revolution?”

“Therevolution, of course. The one to take power away from Mordred and the elementals and give it back to the people.”

“Yeah, okay, but if you’re against elementals, why would I help you?” She put her hands on her hips. “That makes no sense.”

“Because something tells me you don’t want to go into that Crystal. You must be our chance.” He blinked. She supposed it was all he could really do as a talking pumpkin head. “You’re here to save us all.”

“I really don’t think so.” She frowned. “I can’t even save myself right now.”

“Fact remains. You’re here, which means he’s distracted, which means it’s time to strike.” His accent was thick and reminded her of something like Cockney, although it wasn’t quite the same. Maybe an older version of it? Whatever. “Unless youdowant to go into the Crystal.”

“No, I don’t.”

“That means you’re on my side, and then I can help you. I see that necklace. Mordred’s got you, huh? Can’t even imagine what you’re payin’ him with to keep you free.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “It isn’t like that.”

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