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‘Here.’ Katie rooted through a bowl of small, polished crystals that looked a lot like sweets, and pulled out a pale pink stone.

Mia twisted it back and forth.

‘It’s rose quartz,’ Katie explained. ‘Phe says it helps call love into your life.’

‘Really?’

‘Phe gave me a piece of this not long after we met. And we’re together now.’

‘You don’t really think a lump of pink stone got you and Ophelia together?’

‘Of course not.’ Katie giggled. ‘But do I know that it didn’t help me be more open to a relationship with her? Maybe.’ She folded Mia’s fingers over the smooth stone. ‘And you, Mimi, need all the help you can get!’

‘I’d be offended if you weren’t so right.’ Mia sighed and stared at the crystal before tucking it into her cleavage. ‘What? It’s not like your skirt has pockets!’

Aiden glanced away from the customer he was just finishing with when Mia strode in and stalked straight up the stairs.

‘Mwuh-oh.’

He stared at Mist who looked right back at him. For a second, it had almost sounded like the cat said uh-oh. He couldn’t disagree with her – Mia’s usual warmth was absent, and she practically radiated tension.

‘Don’t suppose you know what’s wrong?’

Mist gave him an unimpressed look then started to clean her paws.

‘Right, of course not.’ He flipped the shop sign to closed for lunch just as Mia clipped back down the stairs.

‘Hey, Princess, you OK?’

‘Yeah, fine,’ she replied, clearly not telling the truth. ‘Just dropping back Katie’s skirt. I left it on the landing.’

‘OK. How was your date?’

‘Not quite as promising as his profile suggested.’

‘Should I ask?’

‘He was too short.’

‘Oh, snakes’ fur and dragon feathers.’ Aiden put on a silly falsetto. ‘One can’t possibly have a short prince.’

‘Shut up.’ She flicked a rude gesture at him.

‘Oh, but the horrors, a short prince! One can only dread to think if his shortcomings extended lower than the head on his shoulders!’

‘Seriously, shut up.’ Mia started to laugh.

‘What? You’re the one with lofty standards.’

She sighed. ‘He wasn’t even as tall as me.’

‘You’re what? Five six?’

‘I was in heels, so probably about five nine.’

‘And three inches is a problem for you?’

‘No. But him insisting he really was five eleven and a half when it’s blatantly not true? Yeah, that’s problematic for me. If he’d been honest on his profile, I’d have worn flats. But lying over something that stupid makes me wonder what else he’d lie about.’