You had been at it for hours—dusting the endless shelves, polishing the ornate carvings, making sure not a single speck of dirt marred the gilded spines of the king's collection. The work was tedious, but it paid well, and the room they'd given you was warm.

A shiver ran down your spine.

You paused, cloth in hand, and glanced over your shoulder.

Nothing. Just row upon row of ancient tomes, their leather bindings gleaming in the light.

You turned back to your work. A few moments passed.

Thud.

You whirled around, heart skipping. The shelves stretched before you, silent and still. But between two of them—just for a fraction of a second—you caught a flash of pale blue.

Your feet moved before your mind could catch up. You stepped around the corner of the shelf, cloth still clutched in your hand, and came face-to-face with the most striking cookie you had ever seen.

He was tall, with soft blue hair that fell across his forehead like spun silk, and eyes the color of a clear winter sky. He wore fine clothes—velvet and gold trim, the kind of thing that cost more than your entire life savings. And he was blushing.

He didn't look away.