A Rivalry of Hearts, page 20
Not only have I officially secured my two-point lead in our bet, but—for the first time—it doesn’t seem impossible to beat William for the publishing contract without the bet. Yesterday’s signing showed me I truly am as popular in Faerwyvae as my publisher said I was. Maybe I was being hasty in deeming William the clear winner in book sales. Maybe his overwhelming popularity at our first two locations was a matter of circumstance alone.
At our signing at Flight of Fancy, my readers didn’t even know if I’d show up. Rumors of my absence had already circulated. At the university, William was a favorite for personal reasons, due to his alumni status.
Maybe I undervalued myself from the start of this tour.
By afternoon, it’s time to leave for our next destination. I’m buzzing with excitement as we gather on the train platform, waiting to board. To solidify my new sense of confidence, Queen Gemma has come to see us off. And by us I mean me.
We chat about books and I give her some personal anecdotes about my writing process. She eats them up, hanging on my every word.
I still can’t believe a queen is this enamored with me.
Time and again, I catch William’s eye. He’s not too far from me, conversing animatedly with Zane, Monty, and Daphne. Heat simmers in his gaze whenever our eyes lock, which makes my breath quicken. I wasn’t sure if things would feel awkward between us today, or if his behavior toward me would change. We haven’t spoken much, but things do feel different. Better. Softer.
Or maybe this is yet another shift in my perception. He proved he meant it when he said he could kiss me. Which means he’s attracted to me. More than that, he…
He wanted me.
He wanted me so badly, I hardly had to touch him to get him off.
I can’t help the grin that curls my lips. I meet William’s eyes and his narrow, as if he can read my mind. Yet the smile that remains on his lips is warm. Perhaps even a little bashful.
Gemma folds me into a spine-crushing hug as boarding begins.
“Thank you for coming to Vernon,” she says, releasing me. “I hope you know how deeply I appreciate you and your work. Your books really did change my life. They were an anchor to happiness when I needed it most.”
My throat tightens at the praise. As much as I could bask in it for hours, I realize I’ve yet to lavish praise of my own. Praise she very much deserves. “I hope you know you’ve changed my life too. I’ve heard from so many of my readers in Faerwyvae that you championed my books. I don’t think I’d be here if not for you. So thank you.”
Her eyes glaze as she presses a hand to her heart. “I’m going to repeat that for bragging rights to anyone who will listen.”
“Please, brag away,” I say with a chuckle.
With a final wave, Gemma departs and I join my companions on the train.
Our next destination is one of the northernmost cities in Faerwyvae. It’s a city I read about in my brochure: Lumenas. Nestled at the very tip of the Star Court, it’s famous for its entertainment and nightlife, with a focus on the performing arts. And it’s a two-day train ride from Vernon.
Thankfully, we procure a luxury compartment. It’s three times as large as the ones we’ve ridden in thus far, with wide cushioned seats, footrests, and accommodations to transition to a sleeping compartment, courtesy of the fold-out cots, the bunks that pull down from the walls, and the privacy screens that slide into place. I suspect we have Zane to thank for the upgrade. They’ve decided to join us on our journey. Turns out Lumenas is the city Zane calls home.
All the envy I felt for the beautiful antlered fae yesterday has died, and now I’m back to being starstruck. After how they conspired to get me alone with William last night, I no longer suspect there is anything romantic between them and the poet.
The mood is light between our party as our train rolls along for the next two days. We chat. We drink. We eat. When we’re bored, we play cards or charades. When we’re tired of each other’s company we read or nap. At night, I claim one of the bunks and Daphne curls up beside me. During the day, I can’t keep my eyes off William, and I suspect it’s the same for him. He always has a smirk ready for me, sometimes a wink too.
I smile back most of the time, though once—when he meets my eyes over the porcelain cup of coffee he’s sipping from—I display a crude gesture for only him to see, involving my right hand fisting an invisible girth. After which he chokes on his coffee, his cheeks blazing.
Bad girl, he mouths across the train compartment, our exchange lost on our distracted companions.
I give him an innocent shrug, then let my eyes dip suggestively to his lap.
When my gaze sweeps back to his face, I catch him biting his lip as he shifts in his seat. Then, keeping each word slow and exaggerated, he mouths, When I get you alone, I’m going to—
I never find out what William’s going to do to me, for Zane catches sight of him. “Hmm? Did you say something?”
“Hmm?” William blinks a few times. “Nothing.”
I purse my lips to hide my laugh and watch as he falls into conversation with Zane. He seems so different than he normally does, and I think a lot of it has to do with his friend’s presence. He’s discarded his aloof demeanor, his arrogant quips. He smiles more. Jokes more easily. Teases in a less cutting way.
I’m a bit stir-crazy by the last leg of our journey, so I nearly weep with relief when our train finally pulls into the Lumenas City Station. The morning is bright, the weather mild and refreshing. Warm compared to the Winter Court, but not nearly as sweltering as the Solar Court.
Outside the station, our group splits up between two hansom cabs, as each compact carriage only has room for two human-sized passengers. I ride with Monty, Daphne in my lap. My nose is practically pressed to the window as we enter the heart of the city. Even before noon, the streets are crowded with other horse-drawn cabs and coaches, while the sidewalks teem with people. The buildings tower high overhead, taller than any I’ve seen before.
I release a gasp. “This city is beautiful.”
“If you’re impressed now,” Monty says, “wait until you see it at night. Lumenas was made for its nightlife.”
I can’t imagine how much more stunning it could possibly be. Morning sun glints off the windows of the tallest buildings, illuminating jugglers and other performers who grace the street corners. We pass glittering storefronts, opera houses, restaurants, and luxury apartments. Meanwhile, the people appear to be an even mix of human and fae, pointed ears, animal features, and extravagant costumes standing out in equal measure to modestly dressed, round-eared patrons. It’s the most diverse blend of people I’ve seen in any of the cities we’ve been in.
I bring this up to Monty.
“Lumenas attracts tourists,” Monty says, fiddling with an unlit cigarillo, “many of which are human. Yet a great number of the performers, residents, and staff are fae, and certain areas in the city discard human propriety entirely. There truly is something for everyone here.”
“I know why you like it, Monty,” Daphne says from my lap. “One of Lumenas’ nicknames is Den of Debauchery.”
He casts an affronted look at the pine marten. “I, a debaucher? I’m insulted.”
She scoffs. “You’ve been flipping that same cigarillo between your fingers since we got here. You’re just wondering where you might find more of that Moonpetal Mr. Somerton gave you, aren’t you?”
“Right you are, Daffy. A little Moonpetal, an amateur boxing match. I’m already planning the perfect night.”
“You better not try to claim a boxing match as a business expense.”
“I have money of my own, you know.”
I grin as their banter continues, and I take in every street, every sight, every building. Finally, our cab stops outside a hotel so tall that I couldn’t count the number of floors if I tried. William and Zane exit their cab behind us, and our party reconvenes.
William sidles into me as we enter the hotel lobby. “How do you like Lumenas?”
“I love it.” I turn in a circle as we walk, staring at the marble floors, the white-and-gold papered walls, the crystal chandeliers. “Monty went all out when he picked this hotel. This must be the finest hotel in the city.”
“You love it, hmm? Is that all it takes for you to fall in love? A single glance?” William’s question has me tripping over my own feet. His hand comes to my elbow to help me regain my footing. We pause our steps. He leans in, his body closer to me than it’s been since our time alone in his hotel room. “I didn’t think you were one to fall in love at first sight.”
I recover my wits and give him a haughty look. “That’s because you’ve only been on the receiving end of my hate at first sight.”
His hand still holds my elbow. He brushes his thumb over my sleeve before letting his fingers fall back to his side. A devious glint sparks in his eyes. “That didn’t feel like hate when you were pumping my cock.”
My heart flips in my chest. Thank heavens our companions are now several feet ahead. I clear my throat before I deliver my answer. “I barely pumped it more than three times if you’ll recall. Besides, I was pretending it was your neck.”
“Mmm. I might like that.”
My cheeks burn hot as we finally rejoin our party. Almost at once, I can tell something is amiss.
“What do you mean there’s something wrong with our booking?” Monty says, his tone serious for once. “I made these reservations months ago. I sent a telegram last week to confirm we would need a second room.”
I study the stern receptionist. Her skin is covered in glittering green scales and her eyes are aqua blue, devoid of any discernible whites or pupils. She flips through the ledger on her desk. “I don’t see any record of your telegram, Mr. Phillips. We sent one as well to confirm but never received a reply.”
“What does that mean?” Monty asks. “Do we have at least one room?”
“Oh no.” Realization dawns at once, and I give the receptionist a solemn look. “I know what this is. I’ve written about it. There’s only one bed, isn’t there?”
“I liked that one,” Daphne says, staring up at me from near my feet. “Your attention to detail in that scene was impeccable. I particularly appreciated the emphasis you put on the headboard slamming against the wall and creating hairline fractures in the brick. It really demonstrated—”
“There are no beds,” the receptionist says. “We’ve been overbooked due to clerical errors and can only accommodate those who confirmed their booking last week. You’ll receive a refund and a voucher for free Lumies from any vendor in the city.”
“What are Lumies?” I ask.
Zane answers, their expression brightening. “You must try Lumies. They’re delicious.”
Monty runs a hand through his pale hair, sending his curls in charming disarray. “Can you transfer our booking to another hotel?”
The receptionist shakes her head. “We can’t guarantee vacancy at a comparable hotel. There are several large events this weekend that have attracted even more tourists than we’re used to this time of year.”
Pride flares in my chest. “You mean like our book signing? Is it such a large event?”
“I’m not aware of a book signing.”
“It’s called The Heartbeats Tour.”
William leans in with an amused grin, blocking my view of the receptionist. “I doubt our little book tour is big enough to be highlighted amongst the massive events occurring this weekend. Have you any idea what caliber of famous musicians and actors perform here?”
I glare, but he’s probably right.
“Your ego knows no bounds,” he whispers, but there’s a softness to his teasing, and his eyes linger on mine for an extra-long beat.
Monty opens his mouth to speak again, but Zane taps him on the shoulder. He turns to face the antlered fae with a questioning glance.
“I’ve got it covered,” Zane says. “I live in this city, remember? You’ll stay with me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EDWINA
Just when I think we missed out on staying in the finest accommodation in all of Lumenas, Zane’s offer makes me eat my words. Their apartment building is several floors higher than the hotel and boasts twice as many chandeliers in the lobby. The walls are painted black with multi-hued sparkles that evoke a likeness to starlight and nebulae. The floors are onyx, and with the chandeliers casting dancing light all around, I feel like I’m walking straight through the night sky as we proceed through the lobby.
“Love at first sight again?” William whispers in my ear. He’s stayed near me ever since we left the hotel and navigated the streets to reach Zane’s building. Several times he’s had to drag me away from sidewalk performers—spectacles I’m expected to openly gawk at, unlike the north wing—lest I get so distracted I lose my party.
I’m too enamored with the building’s interior to spare him a glance. “Yes.”
We reach the far end of the lobby and I find yet another reason to be impressed. Three open alcoves await, each smaller than a private washroom. A muscular fae stands beside each—a centaur, a fae with gray skin and barrel-shaped legs, and a more humanoid fae with a chest twice as broad as William’s, straining the buttons of his fine black-and-white suit. A trio of guests enter one of the alcoves before us, and a silver grate slides shut, followed by a black sliding door. The centaur reaches for a large lever and begins to turn it.
I glance at Zane. “Are those elevators?”
Zane nods and guides us toward the next open alcove over, beside the gray male—an elephant fae perhaps? A rhino? I’ve only ever seen paintings of such creatures, so what do I know?
We pack ourselves into the elevator, and the grate closes, then the door. The first lurch of motion has me clutching the rail that lines the wall. It creates a sensation in my gut that is nauseating yet thrilling. We don’t have elevators in Bretton, and I doubt we have a single building even half this tall, but I’ve heard of the technology. The fae truly have some impressive advancements. I suppose it makes sense considering they have magic and fae creatures with unique abilities on their side. It’s inspiring. Amazing. Incredible. My fingers flinch, craving the notebook I left in my carpet bag with all my other luggage, stored at the station.
Fourteen Ways to Fall in Love with Faerwyvae.
My next just-for-fun illustrated list.
Yearning fills my chest at the thought, cracked open by my awe. It takes me a moment to understand where it’s coming from.
Then I realize…
I don’t want this feeling to end. I want to see more. Experience more. I want to stay here. To live here in Faerwyvae, and I want it for more reasons than just the publishing contract. This magical, eclectic, and fantastic isle…I think I might belong here. I could thrive off this kind of inspiration.
“Maynard is the fastest elevator operator,” Zane says, interrupting my thoughts. “He can get us to the top floor in three minutes.”
My mouth falls open. “You live on the top floor?”
“I do, and I suggest you steer clear of Mr. Tibbets if you value your time. He’s the operator at the far right. He takes at least five minutes to lift the elevator to my floor.”
“I imagine the stairs aren’t an option?” Daphne asks, a slight quaver in her voice.
“If you have the stamina,” Zane says, “then certainly—oh, dear.”
I follow Zane’s line of sight to where Daphne is. She’s lifted herself on her haunches, her back pressed into one of the corners. Her paws are splayed out on either side of her, and her little chest heaves with short sharp breaths.
Monty crouches beside the pine marten and extends a hand. “Come here, Daph.”
Reluctantly, she leaves her corner and lets Monty lift her in his arms. As he stands and cradles her against his chest, she tucks her face into his jacket. After a few moments, she pulls her head back and looks up at him. “You sort of…smell good.”
He snorts a laugh. “Why must you sound surprised? I do bathe, you know.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” she mutters and shoves her face back in his jacket.
The elevator ride is long indeed, and I must admit its charm wears off by the end. But once the door opens, my awe returns. A wide, luxurious space greets us, with the same glittering black walls and onyx floors that the lobby had. Chandeliers stretch from the ceiling, but none are lit. Instead, the noon sunlight fills the room, shining through the row of enormous windows that comprise the far wall. My gaze shifts to the decor. Several different living areas have been arranged, though no walls divide them, only silk screens or just the layout of the furnishings. There’s a gilded fireplace with a tea table and pair of indigo wingback chairs, a dinner table before a wall of painted vases on display, several divans, an enormous gold harp, and a glossy black pianoforte.
“Welcome to my home,” Zane says, strolling to the center of the space with their arms out wide.
I think my eyes might fall out of my head. “This whole place is your apartment?”
“Yes, and I should confess something now since you brought it up earlier. There is only one bed.”
“I knew it,” I say under my breath, and my eyes briefly dart to William at my periphery.
Zane chuckles. “But I have plenty of couches, cots, and blankets. Make yourselves at home. Eat. Relax. Rest. Then tonight, I’ll show you my city.”
After evening falls, I can hardly tear my gaze away from the view outside Zane’s windows. Our surroundings are aglow with electric bulbs, bright marquees, and the light from neighboring buildings. The streets far below are even busier than they were during the day, swarming with pedestrians, performers, and coaches.
