Any Way the Wind Blows (Simon Snow, #3)

by Rainbow Rowell

“That’s not a bad idea,” I say. “Why didn’t we think of that?” “Because you think with your wand,” Snow says. I kick him in the side again. (It’s hardly a kick.) (I can’t stay off him.) “I didn’t mean it in the dirty way!” he objects. “Penelope does, too.” “Where are we going to find a magickal tailor . . .” Bunce wonders aloud. Shepard grins at her. When I get out of the shower that night, Snow is wearing my pyjama trousers and practising sword manoeuvres. I hang back in the bathroom door to stay out of his way. “You’re not supposed to do that on my side of the room,” I say. “You haven’t got a side of the room,” he says, letting the sword drop. “We’ll have to negotiate that.” I walk past him to the bed. My violin is still sitting there. I pick it up and rest it on my shoulder. Simon swings his sword again, watching me. “Are you going to tell me I can’t play violin on your side of the room?” I ask. “I would never tell you that,” he says, pointing the sword. “You can play violin wherever and whenever you like.” “Your landlady might disagree.” “I’ll cut off her ears.” “That sword is already a bad influence.”