Chapter Eight: Byron

“So, here we are.” Cassie held out her hands, and then let them drop to her sides. “What would you like to see first?”

“What is your favorite item?” Byron asked.

“My favorite?” She tugged her brows together and turned in a slow circle. “I don’t know that I have a favorite. I suppose it changes depending on the day and my mood.”

I know who my favorite is.Byron’s dragon swooned.

“Okay,” Byron said. “If I walked into your store and wanted to buy something, what would you suggest?”

“That you choose,” Cassie replied bluntly. “I mean, you should walk around the store and look at everything, pick them up, try them, and then choose.”

She turned away from him and strolled down the left-hand side of the store, passing shelves with neatly displayed items.

Byron followed, his eyes lingering on a stack of besom brooms in a wooden tea crate. “What are these?”

“Brooms,” Cassie answered.

Byron chuckled. “I can see that. And why do they belong in your store?” Byron asked, reaching out to touch the handle of the nearest broom.

“Oh. Well.” Cassie stepped beside him and reached for a broom as well, her fingers brushing against his, sending a jolt of recognition through him which he fought to not react to. “This one…” She pulled out a broom with long, tawny bristles, and a handle carefully carved with intricate scrollwork. “This one has attachment issues.”

“Attachment issues?” Byron repeated and reached out and brushed his fingers over the smooth wood of the handle.

“Yes, its previous owner passed away. And now it won’t fly.” Cassie ran her fingers lovingly through the bristles. “But I believe that when the right person comes along, it will fly once more.”

“I like that,” Byron replied with a smile. “And the rest of them. What are their unique qualities?”

“Unique qualities?” Cassie studied him for a long moment. “Most people would call them defects.”

“I am not most people,” Byron said, then grinned. “As most people will tell you.”

“I’m not most people either,” Cassie said as she slid the broom back into the box.

“What else do you have to show me?” Byron asked, his eyes resting on an antique pocket watch hanging precariously by a brass chain.

“Oh, this?” Cassie plucked the watch from its perch, cradling it gently in her palm as if it were a small, wounded bird. “This is a Timekeeper.”

“A timekeeper? Is that not what all watches do?” Byron chuckled softly.

“Ordinary ones, yes,” Cassie replied with a smile. “But this one is anything but ordinary. It doesn’t just keep time—it contains it. You can trap a moment inside and revisit it whenever you wish.”

Intrigued, Byron extended his hand, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the watch. “Is there a moment trapped in it now?” he asked, eyes meeting Cassie’s.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. She carefully placed the watch in his hand and closed his fingers around it. “Only the person who traps the moment can access it. To everyone else, it’s just an old, broken watch.”

Byron frowned at this, his thumb running over the cracked glass face of the watch. “And if the person who trapped the moment is...gone?”

Cassie shrugged. “Then I suppose the moment is lost forever.”

“So why keep it?” Byron murmured as he stared at the watch.

“Because to someone, that moment is so precious,” Cassie explained as she gently took the watch from his hand and placed it back on its hook. “And I like to think that one day the person who the treasured memory belongs to will walk through the door and reclaim it.”

A smile played across Byron’s lips. I believe our mate is a romantic after all.

She’s simply profound, his dragon replied, his tone melancholy.

“But then, I am a sentimental fool.” Her mouth turned down at the corners as she stepped away from him.

“I don’t think there’s anything foolish about being sentimental,” Byron said earnestly, as she moved away. “Memories...moments...they are the essence of our very existence, aren’t they?”

“Perhaps,” Cassie conceded, her gaze locked with his. “But they can also be our downfall.”

Byron contemplated this in silence. “But they can also be our salvation. A place to seek sanctuary or even advice.”

“Life is a matter of perspective, isn’t it?” Cassie mused, as her fingers trailed over the feathers tucked into the band of an emerald green hat. “One person’s downfall could be another’s salvation.”

“You’re right,” Byron agreed, then he inhaled sharply. “And this hat?”

“Feathers of forgetfulness,” Cassie replied and lifted the hat up, holding it out to him. “The wearer of the hat may experience occasional memory loss. Do you want to try?”

“No,” he said sharply. “Sorry, I don’t want to forget anything about our first date.”

“It was that important to you?”

“Well, it’s-it’s important not to forget anything we have learned about each other in case it comes up during the course of the competition.” Byron tried not to grimace. He couldn’t tell if there had been hopefulness in Cassie’s voice or not, but he was afraid of scaring her away.

“Is this still a date?” Cassie asked.

“Well, technically, I would say so,” Byron replied. “We met for lunch and then walked back here together. I believe our date will end when we part.”

“I believe it will,” Cassie agreed solemnly. “Come look at this.” She reached out and grabbed hold of his sleeve, pulling him toward the back of the store.

“A mirror.” Byron watched their reflections as they approached a tall mirror in an ornate, gilded frame. “Is this the mirror that insulted your mother?”

“No, that one is over there.” She stopped before the mirror, and he stood by her side, trying to figure out how the mirror came to be in the store when it was so large.

He leaned forward and whispered. “I’m not sure I understand?”

“No?” She half-turned to look at him. Her lips were so close he could feel her breath on his cheek.

“Yes, a normal, everyday…” He jerked his head back as the reflection before him shifted and there, staring back at him, was a robust witch dressed in scarlet red and wearing a frown of pure displeasure.

“See?” Cassie raised a hand and waved, but then the reflection shifted again, and the witch was gone, replaced with Cassie and Byron. “And we’re back.”

“What happened?” Byron asked, his voice filled with confusion.

“I call it The Mirror of Misplaced Reflections,” Cassie explained, her eyes not leaving the now seemingly ordinary reflection. “Sometimes you see what you expect. Sometimes you see other people. And sometimes...you see something else entirely.”

“Something else entirely?” Byron asked excitedly. “Like what?” Byron gazed at his own reflection, hoping the image might shift to one of something else entirely.

“Once I saw a giant, hulking beast instead of my reflection,” she said, a far-off look in her eyes. “It had red eyes and scales that gleamed like emeralds.”

Byron looked at her with skepticism. “How is that even possible?”

“Behind him was a mountain range that I have never seen before, even in books,” Cassie explained. “I believe the beast was staring at his reflection in a mountain lake, and somehow, his reflection ended up here.”

“So it’s random?” Byron asked.

“I don’t know.” She stared at their reflection for a few moments and then said, “Or maybe the mirror is enchanted, and the reflections don’t exist at all.”

“Fake,” he murmured.

“Yes.” She lifted her gaze and their eyes met in the mirror. “Fake.”

Tell her, his dragon roared. Tell her right now that we are not fake, that we are meant to be together. Forever.

But then Cassie tore her gaze from his and walked away, and the moment was gone. “I dare you to try this.”

I don’t like the sound of that, Byron told his dragon.

Neither do I, Byron replied with a grumble.

In the whole of his life, whenever he’d accepted a dare, it had never ended well.

“What is it?” Byron asked as he brushed past a witch’s cloak that made his hair stand on end.

“Oh, I should have wanted you about the static.” She reached up and smoothed her hand over his head, and he shivered. “Here.”

“A goblet.” He wrapped his hand around the stem of the ornate gold-colored goblet.

“Not just any goblet,” she replied. “It’s an everlasting goblet.”

“An everlasting goblet.” He peered into the rounded cup. “It’s empty.”

“Until you raise it to your lips,” Cassie replied. “And drink.”

“And then what?” Byron eyed the goblet suspiciously.

“Then,” she shrugged, grinning mischievously, “you’ll see.”

“Taste,” Byron replied. “I’ll taste.”

“You will.”

“But what will I taste?” Byron asked, inching the rim of the goblet toward his lips.

“That is the question,” Cassie said with a mischievous grin, obviously in her element here in her store.

“You don’t know.” Byron was not adventurous in the culinary department. There was a reason he ate lunch at the same place three times a week.

“Don’t worry, no one had ever died from drinking the contents,” Cassie said, her face deadpan.

“Reassuring.” He wrinkled his nose as, with a wary glance at her, Byron tipped the goblet, his lips meeting the cold metal rim. As soon as the rim touched his mouth, he felt a warmth spread through him, a taste that was so familiar yet so exotic—rich, luscious notes of caramel and spice, a hint of star anise, a splash of mead. He pulled the goblet away and looked at it in surprise. “What…what is this? I’ve tasted it before…but I can’t remember where or when, or what it’s called.”

Cassie chuckled. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

“Taste it,” he said and offered her the goblet.

“It doesn’t work like that,” she replied. “If I take a sip, it will be different. That’s the point.”

Offer her a kiss,his dragon said. She can taste your lips.

I don’t think so,Byron replied, although the idea was tantalizing.

“I have an idea.” She took the goblet from his hand and placed it back on a small, raised dais and then propelled him down the right side of the store. “Here.”

She stopped in front of the crystal ball, and he chuckled as he placed his hand on its cool surface. It shimmered, and he stared into its depths as an image of a much younger version of himself appeared, surrounded by his family.

“Do you recognize it?” Cassie asked.

“I do,” he said hoarsely. “This was my first book release. A handbook on Dragon Shifting for Beginners.”

“Really?” Cassie asked. “That was your first handbook?”

A wave of nostalgia swept over Byron as he watched the younger version of himself in the crystal ball, so blissfully unaware of the trials and tribulations that lay in the future.

But also unaware that those trials and tribulations would lead us here, to our mate,his dragon reminded him.

You’re right,Byron said.

“It was,” he confirmed, turning his gaze back to Cassie, her eyes filled with intent curiosity. “It was a handbook on dragon shifting for beginners, written at the tender age of sixteen.” He chuckled. “It didn’t sell too well on Cairnnor. Most dragon shifters learn from their parents, so how I thought I could impart any useful knowledge, I don’t know. I was so na?ve.”

Cassie leaned closer, her gaze shifting between the crystal ball and Byron’s face. “But that didn’t deter you.”

Byron chuckled. “No, because even though it didn’t sell well on Cairnnor, it did sell well on Panjara. But not as a handbook, as a work of exotic literature.”

Cassie chuckled. “And so your career was born.”

“And so my career was born,” Byron agreed. “I guess in some ways we are very much alike, Cassie.”

“We are?” she asked.

“We both like to learn how things work.” His eyes met hers and he held her gaze.

“It’s good that we are compatible,” she murmured.

“It is,” he replied, leaning closer.

“For the competition,” she whispered half-seriously.

“Of course.” But as he leaned in for their first kiss, the store door opened with a loud ringing from the bell and she jerked her head back, the moment gone.

But there will be other moments,his dragon assured him.

Many, many moments, Byron agreed.