Free The Legacy of Buchanan's Crossing by Rhea Rhodan

comments of the ignorant. This wasn’t going to be one of them.
    “Oh really? Do I look like I care who elected you chairwoman of the Universe Revolves Around Perfect Plastic Barbies League?”
    Barbie opened her perfect pink lips and put her hands on her perfect little hips in perfect indignation. A deep voice out of nowhere said, “Here’s your iced latte, Darcy. Sorry it took so long.”
    The deep voice belonged to him , and he was touching the shoulder of Barbie’s perfectly crisp cream linen dress with obvious intimacy. All the blood rushed to her heart as if to save it from being crushed. The journey was wasted.
    “Cayden?”
    He was staring at her while Barbie stared at him, perfectly appalled.
    “Puh-lease don’t tell me you actually know this…this rude disgusting little freak.”
    The words were barely out of Barbie’s mouth when a remarkably large bird bomb exploded across the top of her perfectly sleek blond bob. Telltale bits of raspberry pink dripped sedately down onto the sleeve cap of Barbie’s dress.
    Nevermore was already wheeling in the air far above the crowd when Cayden started laughing.
    She kept laughing as she rolled rapidly down the street to her studio, away from Clint MacAllen and his not-quite-so-perfect-anymore Barbie. Nevermore was perched jauntily on a branch of the small tree on the boulevard outside the door when she arrived.
    “Cayden forgive Nevermore?”
    “Ah, now I know why you weren’t home this morning. You were feeling guilty. A move like that would earn a lot of forgiveness, but what for?” She’d almost been afraid to ask. The possibilities ranged from a prank on a neighbor to stealing a diamond ring from the palm of a jeweler’s hand through an open shop door.
    “Not there for Cayden.”
    Oh. “Last night, you mean?”
    Nevermore nodded his head and shifted his grip on the branch from foot to foot. “Rob Roy bastard cat…”
    “Of course. I don’t care to be a within a mile of him myself. I don’t want you any closer. Understand?”
    “Cayden love Nevermore.”
    “Very much.”
    “Clint MacAllen clueless bastard.”
    For once, Cayden felt not an ounce of desire to scold Nevermore for his language. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” She scanned the clouds. “You’d best get on home before this weather breaks.”
    The sky had darkened from thickly overcast to heavy with rain. The storm was coming on fast and hard. Everyone attending the May Day parade would be soaked. She didn’t chide herself for taking satisfaction in that, either.
    An afternoon of teaching fencing was just what she needed. It was all about focus and control. If she could control her power, she could attempt the Rite of Commitment again on Midsummer’s Eve. The Crossing’s acceptance of her as Assistant Warder would at least buy both her and Gran more time. Possibly get her around the Joining altogether.
    She’d done pretty well last night at HandiMart. The lights had barely flickered when the surprise of seeing Clint again had literally knocked her off her stool. But last night was a thousand years ago. Recalling it brought her twice the grief it had earlier this morning.
    The romantic fantasy of riding off into the sunset with a handsome knight in shining armor had done just that without her, thank-you-very-much. The sight of Dr. Seuss wearing her tattered dress was an apropos reminder that a fairytale knight wants a fairytale princess, not a plump, quirky witch.

    Someone must have cranked the air-conditioning in Chez Louis to arctic. Not that Clint was an expert on their environmental controls; it was his first time in the place. Maybe all the sparkling crystal, white tablecloths, and stuck-up waiters were what made it seem so cold.
    Darcy had been hinting she wanted to come here for weeks, if mentioning it was her favorite restaurant in Boston every single time he took her to dinner elsewhere could be called hinting rather than carping. She’d been even less subtle