Cats & Crowns

By Sara Tiger Ryan

Elitedaughter Sazzancy Delicious Jinn misses her work as a private spy assistant so, of course, she starts her own agency. Knowing she doesn't have the skills to work alone, she enlists her old flame, Dusten Kincaid, who does have the experience, to be her partner.

Business is limping into a slow start, when the Queen comes by in disguise and offers Miss Kitty's Private Spy Agency the case of the missing Crown Jewels and Prince.

Even though Sazzy can't imagine why Her Majesty has given her the case, she doesn't feel she can say no.
So, instead of the small, easy case she wanted to learn on, Sazzy finds herself midst an important case with an impossible amount of suspects, repeating interviews the Royal Spymaster has already conducted, contending with ladies from the Nine Families as suspects, and putting up with prissy decorators, who are busy destroying the scene of the crime.

As Dusty says, "The case is a sleuth's nightmare."

And all hers.

Since her talent is Seeking objects, the Crown Jewels are easy to find...except the ones she Seeks that make her sick. Like Seeking the Prince makes Dusty sick.

This doesn't look good for the one thing Sazzy knows she has to do to make Her Majesty happy: find the Crown Jewels and the Prince in separate places.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sara Tiger Ryan
• Release date: Sep 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310881282

Sara Tiger Ryan

Sara Tiger Ryan was born in New Hampshire. She now lives in Florida with her 2 cats. Make that minus one charming boy cat, add in a Mama cat who brought me 5 kittens--all of them adorable! Sara started writing novels in 1973 in high school study hall and hasn't stopped (for long) yet. She started out writing fantasy and added mystery. She also writes metaphysical non-fiction. Ryan was active in the small press in the mid 90's, and had her own 'zine, Star Triad.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Sazzancy Delicious Jinn

Spale Year of:1896

Sidewise Fates Season, 1

Sidewise Fates, 1

SkittersDelightday

Stop moping, her sister complained, as Sazzy wandered past, reached the lower hall of their Family's mansion for the third time this afternoon and kept going, continuing her meandering route through the four story house without reply. At least the furniture had stopped leaping around. As Chiary said, usually the floor stayed put-even when the floor coverings strobed.

I'm not moping, I'm time ill, she muttered a hall later and safely out of her sister's hearing. She ducked into the Peacock Room and admired the feathered wall with her fingers, got lost in the iridescent blues and greens, and came out when the wall time-strobed to plain black velvet. With a sharp sigh, she left for the hall where the wainscoting blinked in and out every few steps.

All right, maybe she was moping on the side. She had wanted to stay in Chiary's time and help run his investigative agency. But not enough to be time ill-like now-for the rest of her (if she had stayed) short, time-insane life.

For the first time in her nineteen (almost twenty and, actually twenty-two, counting her time at Chiary's) years, she had felt useful and wanted for her talents. She'd been good at organizing; using her moderate Seeking talent, she'd found several missing items for him; she'd, if she wasn't being modest, saved his business for him. Not that she blamed him for being a bit disorganized: he'd lost his business partner and his lover in the space of a moon-passing. If only-

Sazzy sighed, climbed the back stairs, and wandered through the third floor guest rooms, each a different color and decorating scheme, sometimes, for her, several of those different schemes in the space of her visit. The unexpected embossed silver wall in the fifth room caught her eye and she admired the work with her fingers until the silver vanished into a mural of a spring forest full of Leafen with their pale green hair and half-tree bodies. Sazzy left that room for the hall and headed back down stairs.

On the third landing down, her sister stopped her with a hand to the chest. Saz-zy.

Wisteria, she returned in the same tone, then ducked away. I'll go wander outside then.

Don't you even care that someone stole the crown jewels?

Someone castrated the prince?

Don't be disgusting.

Well, she didn't remember anything else anyone had ever called 'the crown jewels'. And she did remember the Queen calling her son that. Sazzy turned the corner and continued downstairs.

You could at least help with the decorations, Wisteria called after her. It's your Fateday party!

It's your Fateday party; you're just using my Fateday as your excuse.

I invited Dusten Kincaid, just to warn you.

Sazzy slid down the banister to avoid answering. She didn't even remember Dusten Kincaid today, never mind know if she wanted him at the party she didn't want to attend so excruciatingly time ill.

She headed towards the side door that led to the Wild Fates Garden, hoping the plants and trees wouldn't leap around as much as the furniture and rugs. The garden proved worse. Trees went from saplings to full grown in the space of a few steps, flowers and ferns strobed from blooming to dead to some other plant entirely.

Sazzy stopped walking and put her hands over her eyes. Maybe she'd better take another dose of time illness potion on her next round.

Heading back towards the house, she ducked a vine that wasn't there on second glance, and made a wide berth around a yellow-blossomed sweep tree that turned into a stump as she passed. She made an exasperated sound. Wasn't she ever-OW! Sazzy jumped back from the sapling that was, actually, in this time, a full-sized oak with a bench encircling the trunk. She put one hand to her head and one to her knee. Both tree and bench had gotten her.

Still rubbing her forehead, she reached the inside and headed toward the fourth, timewalking Cousins' floor with its stash of time illness potion. On the second landing up, she passed a bevy of maids carrying ribbons and crepe with which to trim the ball room. However was she going to get through a whole night of dancing without making an idiot of herself by not remembering what time she was in? Which included remembering who her quests were... She couldn't take that much time illness potion, she'd act like one of the Deathmaster's undead.

Don't you even care about the prince? her sister asked, startling Sazzy aware.

Surreptitiously she scanned to see where she was. In the dining room, where a bevy of maids and a few houseboys merrily decorated with swags of purple crepe. She must have followed them without thinking.

What prince? she countered. She remembered two princesses, a dark-natured King, and a skinny, hooked-nosed (so probably a Yght) Queen.

Sazzy.

I don't know any prince.

You do so know the prince.

I don't know any prince.

You were at court when he came out.

So?

Wisteria made an exasperated sound and took a breath, likely to order her to help direct the decorating endeavors. Sazzy twirled around several times, then slipped out into the hall and, this time, made it to the fourth floor.

She took a single dose of time illness potion for now and sat on the bench by the gilt cabinet waiting for the potion to take effect. The Cousins insisted on their rooms staying the same as much as possible so nothing leapt around or wavered or slid into something else...except the curtains and bed covers. At the count of sixty, even those settled. Sazzy waited a few more minutes before leaving for her room.

Unhappily, her mother had just redecorated most of the house, so, even though the potion had calmed her time illness down to a waver of just a few years, rugs and table scarves and wall coverings segued new to old and back again. Clutching her protesting stomach, she gained her room and sat on the edge of her bed. A heartbeat later, she gave up and slid to the floor. After a flickering parade of rugs, Sazzy blew her breath out and closed her eyes. At least the floor stayed solid-feeling beneath her.

Sazzy surfaced when someone tripped over her. A slip of a girl with a thick black braid, her maid, caught herself on the bed curtains, eliciting a protesting, tearing sound from the filmy, bright blue tissue silk.

Having a maid meant she wasn't in Chiary's time. Sazzy pulled herself up onto the bed and scanned the room. Nothing moved or seemed to move except the maid.

Jillian, Sazzy said, testing her recollection of that maid's name.

I'm sorry, miss, I'll have it mended directly after we get you in your fateday gown. May I wish you happy? The ball room looks like it was fixed by fairy magic.

Fairies aren't real.

My sister says fairies are really Silthe. Jillian disappeared into the clothes room.

Sazzy tried to imagine the Silthe, a Race of Legend known for their cold-heartedness, flitting about with gauzy wings, and failed.

I heard the crown jewels got taken, Jillian said in an awed half-whisper, laying a frilly, many-layered gown of icy-turquoise and cream on the back of the valet chair.

There aren't any crown jewels.

The crown. Her Majesty's jewels. Her gazing balls. Our old King's scepter.

The last King from their line had been Treblen Wonder Shian in 1183, seven hundred years ago. The only item she knew about, that Treblen Shian had owned and passed along, was the fatestone the Younger Fates Entire had given him. Aunt Sumara had that in the Family safe.

I heard the prince went after the thief.

Ha, as if Prince Lazy would bestir himself. Him and his mop of outrageously golden waves in a country where normal people's hair ranged between black and middle brown. (Except for the extremely blond Syiin Family, of course.) With his arrogant, flippant attitude, he reminded her of Seldin Tylynn, Chiary's latest flitter-aside, word-dancing partner.

Not that Chiary would have made her his partner, she didn't have enough talent or-

Sazzy yelped as a hand touched her arm.

Her maid snatched back, eyes going wide, but she said only, Your bath is drawn, Miss Sazzancy.

Sazzy insisted on bathing and getting into her under-garments by herself, before allowing the balance of her dressing into Jillian's hands.

She suffered herself to be dressed and primped, then escaped to take a double-dose of time-illness potion. Straight. The bitter, cloying taste shocked her entirely aware for the time it took to reach the bottom of the main staircase and ball room. Ball room empty. She paused in the doorway.

Dinner first, oh, confused little sister, her youngest brother, Dandy, said, tugging her to the left. Wisty said you were ditzier than usual. You'd think you'd fallen in love or something.

Ha. You're my brother and no one else is worth my heart.

Dandy laughed and twirled her around in the hall and into the dining foyer. Her Great Aunt Sumara, the head of the Family, looked up from the crown of the table and frowned at them. As heir to the Family, Wisteria sat to Aunt Samara's right. Her stiff and proper elder sister wore a severe gown of matte, dusky lavender satin with no trim. Her older brother (looking a bit careworn), his wife, and their two children lined the far side of the table; her paternal grandmother sat between the two children with Grand Aunt Sophie, the family scryer, to her left.

Dandy escorted her to sit next to her father, then took the next seat over. Her mother, as usual, ruled the foot of the table.

Aunt Sumara eyed everyone, then rang sharply for the first course to be served. The pages advanced immediately with an ostentatious variety of dishes, most smothered in her aunt's favorite, heavy sauces. While they served, her aunt pinned squinty eyes on her and began her favorite lecture, droning on about her duty as a daughter of the house and Family and saying this Season she would find herself a mate with which to carry on the family.

Sazzy stopped listening, remembering, with longing, the informal, usually on-the-fly meals at Chiary's. Rather than live with his family, he had taken a nondescript house for his office, used the top floor to live in, and left the whole house, on the outside, looking abandoned...in hopes that any bad guys would overlook the place when searching for him.

As far as she knew that had worked. Even so, the bad guys had killed Chiary's partner, Bran, then Ziah Zorah, Chiary's lover...and nearly her.

A sudden silence and the sharp feel of someone's attention on her caused her to snap her head up warily. But the censoring look belonged merely to Great Aunt Sumara.

Aunt Sumara was right, even if her aunt didn't know the half, she had best stop thinking about Chiary and company before she shocked her family senseless with her ramblings...or scared them by sounding as insane as she felt. At least the potion straight had stopped the time-strobing. Now she only had the time-based mind lapses to contend with. Only.

Maybe a Cousin or two, who would understand, would come to her Fateday ball. And save her from making a fool of herself.

Aunt Sumara began her well-worn scold for her youngest brother, a dandy as his nickname implied; a rake and ner'do'well, according to her aunt. A word dancer, Chiary would say...like Seldin Tylynn and Cousin T. Dandy had always reminded her of Cousin T: handsome in a fey, Race-of-Legendish way, intelligent, quick-thinking, and irreverent. She had always adored her youngest brother, even when he had avoided her as a far-too-young, tag-along sister, when he had been thirteen and she five.

Dandy waggled his wineglass at Aunt Sumara unrepentantly, drawled, I love you, too, Aunty S, then began an amusing retake on one of his latest carriage-racing escapades.

Sazzy listened and messed the food around on her plate. The aftertaste of the time-illness potion ruined everything except the highly-spiced dishes. Unhappily, she would need another dose before the ball commenced. She ought to clip a flask of it at her waist like Chiary did during his worst tracking adventures. She stifled a giggle to think how that would look-a worn wine skin dangling from the waist of her overly fancy ball gown.

Dandy poked her in the ribs. Share the joke, short-stuff.

I was thinking of wearing a wine skin. Like you dangle a wine glass all the time.

He offered her a sip of his wine. Not wine, colored sparkling water. She made a face. He laughed, stood, and presented his arm. She took it and he escorted her to the ballroom. All right, she could make it through one or two dances before escaping to the fourth, Cousin, floor and the sanity-saving time-illness potion.

She made it through a dance with each member of her immediate family because none of them allowed her to escape between dances. By the time she ended the last dance, with her older brother, Sazzy kept her lips pressed together so she wouldn't speak. Aunt Sumara had already scolded her for drinking too much, and her mother had asked if she needed a healer. Now her older brother rambled on about how he could hold his liquor. Even thinking that she never would have stood for a dance-long scold before, she let him; his tirade required no answers.

Sazzy thanked him for the dance anyway and turned to scan for the easiest, least-comment-provoking route out of the ball room. Not by her mother. Not by Aunt Sumara. There.

She slipped by the Yght and Yizarian Mirage Boys and their sisters, who called happy fateday to her. Sazzy stopped to make polite. The males were talking about the Ai'Bet shapechanging kings, the girls kibitzing on various gowns and hair styles, especially the new door-to-door hair arrangers, who, for a fee, arranged one's hair in something distinctly uncommon.

Like your friend Merriweather's coiffure, the oldest Yizarian girl said. It's my favorite; it looks like a starry night.

Sazzy checked but didn't see Merriweather in the crowd.

She's dancing with Dusten Kincaid, Abalyn Yght put in. Though I can't imagine what she sees in him.

Sazzy made a noncommittal reply and slipped away, reached the other side of the servant's door, picked up her skirts and hurried.

After a fresh swig of time illness potion straight, she paused to lean against the door casing to the bathing room that held their permanent time portal. Even that bare leak of energy from the time tracks helped steady her until the potion took affect. At the count of sixty, she pushed regretfully from the door casing, did take a small skin of time-illness potion with her as she left, and hastened back downstairs. As she walked, she tried several hiding places for the wine skin before tying it just above her left knee. It twacked against her knee uncomfortably, but maybe that would serve as a reminder when some out-of-time words tried to escape her mouth.

Her three best friends stood just in front of the door through which Sazzy re-entered the ball room. All three immediately enveloped her in happy fateday hugs.

When they let go, Merriweather said, Prince Lyzan held his first class in knife dancing last WizardWalking.

Before answering, Sazzy admired her friend's elaborate, star-pearl-net encased coiffure. The Yizarian girls were right, the style did look exquisite. Did you go?

Merriweather just grinned.

My little brother joined, Lyy Vivalda volunteered, I went to watch. She half-closed her magic-enhanced emerald-green eyes. You've got to admit he's worth watching.

Not me, Sazzy said.

Yeh, the delectably mirage-silk blond Delicia Syiin drawled, we all know how you don't like him for no particular reason.

I have reasons. Whatever they were. Sazzy rubbed her temples briefly. The blossoming headache, she supposed, came from her overly-perfumed guests and hot, close crowd, not from her time illness.

Well, I think he's scrumptious.

We already know what you think, Vivalda teased: Very little.

So, Sazz, what are you going to do now that you're an old lady? Merriweather asked lightly.

Sazzy made a face. If I'm old at twenty, Dandy is dottering.

Your youngest brother is scrumptious.

She wanted to return to Chiary's. She wanted to do something important. Instead, she asked Vivalda, Is your gran coming?

Of course. She's just being her usual fashionably late self. You know she wouldn't miss your fateday party for the world.

Good, she hadn't seen her mentor and favorite adopted grandmother in more than two years. Sazzy chatted a few more rounds, then asked Delicia to dance...because she wouldn't have to talk, just listen...even though the topic would be the prince.

I was hoping the prince would come, Delicia said as a start. After all, the King is your Uncle.

Queen Zamkrye Lyy Shiveree had sent her regrets. Not that even her over-optimistic father had expected the royal family to attend-despite the Queen had married one of her side relatives, Ian Jinn, the extremely debonair.

At the end of the dance, Sazzy left Delicia next to Cousin Rory, of the Roseway Jinns, and, since Lyy Vivalda only danced with young men, coaxed Merriweather into a turn around the room.

Several dances later, Sazzy broke away, slipped out onto the nearest balcony, leaned on the railing and took several deep breaths of autumn-flower-scented air. If anyone else asked what she intended to do now that her adventure hadn't panned out, she would bite them.

She took a sip of time-illness potion, perched on the railing, and tucked her head down to her knees. Just a few days home had reminded her why she had gone to Chiary's in the first place-other than that Chiary had offered and she had always adored him. She sighed. She had no idea what to do next.

Ah, here you are, my dear, Vivalda's grandmother, the Untouchable Molly Lyy said from the balcony doorway.

Sazzy leapt off the railing and tucked herself in Molly's ample-armed hug.

I didn't think I'd see you back.

Everything worked out. You said I could do it and I could. She paused and sorted through Cousin vows to answer truthfully, I got sick...from something there, or I'd still be there.

Very likely you'll find something equally exciting to do here. Come visit next week, if you have time, and we'll see if we can't come up with something.

Sazzy hugged Molly again, then asked her to dance.

With a laugh, Molly offered her hand and let herself be led inside. After a double dance, Molly brought her to the Roseway Jinns and asked Uncle Lily for a dance, leaving her with Rory.

A moment later their three Mylea cousins joined them, talking magic paintings and the traveling art exhibit that had come to town featuring Charil Dragonhand's and Kimeriel Magictouch's art.

I haven't seen it yet, she answered.

All of us have already been, her youngest Mylea cousin said. What do you think of Mumsy's gown?

Sazzy turned to inspect her Aunt Nammy's outfit. The gown changed color every few minutes. Sazzy watched briefly, then turned away before she become lost in the color fades.

Her Uncle Lily returned, So, what are you going to do now you're all grown up, my dear?

You could become Queen next, her oldest Mylea cousin, Patrecia, said lightly. Then I can keep my easy job of being a Matron-in-Waiting for a queen.

Sazzy made a face. Ugh and triple ugh. Every ten years the Elite got together and voted in a new king or queen. (No one wanted the job any longer than that.) Several had quit early. Fancy Fain had been the only one ousted early-for taking mirage jann. Or, rather, for being fed mirage jann by his cousin. Not that many of the kings and queens had been much saner than Fancy Fain. Their current Queen, Zamkrye Shiveree, seemed all right, though. But she certainly looked gray and harried after only three years on the job.

You could become a designer of building paint, her older Mylea cousin, Gavern, suggested.

Ha. Raviny Syiin already has that cornered and then some.

She's positively amazing. Gavern said

Her other favorite Uncle, the one who owned the town Crier, came up, caught her in a hug, and teased Gavern, She's too old for you.

Uncle Dove, Gavern complained.

Her uncle turned back to her, May I have the pleasure of this fateday dance?

Sazzy agreed, danced with the rest of her cousins, and needed more time-illness potion. Already.

She retreated to the closest balcony, where a rose, lavender, and gamboge sunset glorified the sky. Leaning out over the railing admiring the morphing colors, she tried to find an answer to what to do next.

What had she learned at magic school to base an avocation on? In the Yght School, not much-mostly the history of magic. At the Syiin School, she had enjoyed the Magic Mummer class best. That didn't seem a job she could take without her Family, en masse, having continuous fits of Fates-Preserve-Us-Jinns-Don't-Do-That.

If only she could figure out a way to return to Chiary's time and stay sane. Or he would come here. Except he had said he couldn't return for a decade or more for some time-odd reason. She sighed and imagined working for Chiary here. And not being able to boast to her sibs or friends about her job because Chiary usually investigated stuff that no one sane would want to hear about: body snatchers, mind slavers, drug rings, labyrinths of wretched people doing despicable things. And stopping them. Or, like Bran and Ziah Zorah, getting killed. If only-

Come dance with Hisan Averio, Sazzancy, Aunt Sumara said, and Sazzy snapped aware, for once, pleased to see her aunt and have her nightmare memory cut short.

As she followed her aunt inside, Sazzy only half-listened to her aunt's catalog of the Hissan's virtues, agreed to dance to get away from that, then realized she had missed the very blatant gist of her aunt's whole spiel.

No, she did not want to marry Hisan Averio, no matter how up and coming and suddenly wealthy he had become, nor how kind and...boring. She supposed her aunt, seeing her mortality glaring at her, wanted a healer in the family. Not by her.

She left Hisan after two dances and headed for the refreshment table and a chalice of chilled fruit juice. Langford Fairhand intercepted her.

I invite you to the exhibit of Charil Dragonhand's and Kimeriel Magictouch's art tomorrow afternoon, Langford said stiffly.

Sazzy considered the slightly-beneath her socially Upper Selectson Langford Fairhand a moment, but agreed. She had heard some of Kimeriel Magictouch's art still held enough of his magic to change a viewer's life. She could use a change to the Wild Fates.

Sazzy allowed Langford Fairhand a dance as a reward for asking.

When the dance stopped, Uncle Lily pulled her away from Langford and into an enthusiastic hug. Rory and I need to leave to get home before midnight, but I didn't want to miss giving my favorite niece an extra fateday hug.

She hugged Uncle Lily back, teased him into a dance, then walked him and Rory to the front door, where she gained a third fateday hug from each of them. Sazzy stayed to wave them off in their high-topped carriage and take another dose of time-illness potion.

While she waited for the potion to take effect, she admired the moon: a deep orange glow through the fringe of treetops, losing herself in its serene journey, until someone touched her arm from behind.

Sazzy spun and dropped into a defensive crouch, ready to do serious and permanent damage. Wesran Yght blinked at her, then smirked, but bowed slightly, Your Grand Aunt asked me to escort you back inside.

Sazzy used the porch nearest column to straighten. Obviously she been too long fighting Chiary's enemies. She made no excuse, only offered the eliteson her arm.

Wesran Yght brought her to his sister, who had been her friend when younger and less politely unkind.

I like your dress, Elitedaughter Icea Yght said. The color looks good on you.

Meaning, by Icea's tone, no other colors did. Her dress had been a hurry job, since she hadn't intended on coming home for her fateday. The dressmaker had done a decent and swift job. Unfortunately Sazzy had been in Chiary's time so long she hadn't been able to remember what was fashionable in her own time so she could push the edge of fashion.

Icea chattered on about one person's gown, another's hair, her tone critical, her words carefully non-critical. Wesran brought them glasses of punch. Sazzy accepted hers, decided neither Yght planned to dance with her, made polite, and escaped, heading to the refreshment tables, then to the nearest balcony.

Sazzy perched on the railing and took a sip of her fruit punch. If only she had a stronger talent so she could do something astounding like her great grandfather, Treblen Shian, who had become King at sixteen. Not that she wanted to be Queen, not after seeing Zamkrye Shiveree age twenty years in three.

Of course, Treblen Shian, history said, had the ears of several of the Younger Fates, so she had a long way to go to emulate him...if she could get any of the Fates' attention at all...or really wanted to. Most legends painted the Fates as causing as much trouble in one's life as bringing fun and solutions.

The only Fate she wanted was the one that could transport her back to Chiary's time and settle her in that time so she could stay. Or bring Chiary to her time. If only-

Sazzy sprang up as her mind jumped from one ‘if-only’ to another, brighter ‘if-only’, accompanied by a ‘why not’ and a grin. What if she opened her own investigative agency! Not that she really knew enough, but she had a modest talent in finding objects. Chiary thought she had a moderate amount of the family's foresight talent. (It seemed minimal to her.) She had been good at helping Chiary sort through clues for the ones to pursue. There had been a lot to his business she had not been privy to-or wanted to be, lots she didn't know.

With a pout, she leaned on the railing. She didn't want to start a private spy agency and fail. Like Dusty-

Sazzy brightened again. Perfect! All she needed was a partner who knew a little bit more than she. And Dusten Clarey Kincaid, having run his own investigative agency several years before folding, had that experience. Dusty, plus the quite a bit of Chiary's work load she had been involved in or had read about in his files, and how could she fail!

Sazzy kicked her heels up and whirled around the balcony, before dancey-walking inside. After two quick scans of the room, she spotted Dusten Kincaid and her minimal foresight magic flared with a ‘yes definitely’. Sazzy headed toward him, studying him as she twisted and slipped though the talking, laughing crowd.

Dusty reminded her of fine, old furniture, like gracefully aged pine-the color of his hair. He might not be the most handsome man in society, but, certainly everything was in the right place and nicely assembled. He'd stopped slicking his hair back and let his waves fluff loosely around his quite pleasant, comfortable, trustworthy, not-quite-handsome face. He had his head tilted attentively toward her Aunt Nammy, the bore of the Flag Era.

Sazzy stopped a knot of people away and inspected Dusty a second longer. He didn't look prosperous enough to refuse. With luck, he hadn't closed his detective agency because he'd lost his partner . . . like Chiary.

As she came out of the crowd, Dusty eyed her warily, reminding her they had been an item briefly, when she had first come out, years ago now. When they had broken up, he had been hurt...but so had she.

She paused at Nammy's side, waited impatiently until her aunt finally left, then jumped in, I want to start a private spy agency, what about being my partner?

Dusty stared a minute, then laughed as if she had been joking.

Sazzy waited in silence.

He finally stopped mid laugh, gazed at her several minutes with his head tilted to one side, then said, You're serious. Sazz; you don't have any experience.

Yes, she did, but she couldn't offer any proof because of the Cousin vows she'd taken; she could only say, Yes, I do.

And when was that? Sleuthing out a new perfume or a new gown?

She crossed her arms. If you don't want to, just say so; you don't need to insult my intelligence-which is way higher than yours, Suhr Failure.

I may have failed and you may never have-which I doubt-but, if so, it was because I tried something and you never have.

I have so! But she could feel her Cousin vows ready to nip her tongue should she try to offer