The air was as thick and humid as stew, and it carried the Big Tent’s merriment to the barn. Everyone else on Charmant was having a grand time. Maybe even Luxe herself.
In the Diamond Room. With Dewey.
If it would help her family, Luxe would stay by Dewey’s side forever. Hell, she’d lie in front of a freight train, smiling all the while as if she’d just gotten her way. So thorough was her act, no one realized how deeply she held herself responsible for the entire family’s success. Not her cousins, who believed she was too busy for them. Or her aunts and uncles, whose diffuse sense of responsibility for their orphan niece rarely went past jolly teasing. Maybe her mother would have protected her, but she was gone.
Or maybe that was wishful thinking. Dewey could be the man of her dreams.
I tossed my book into the hay. It might as well have been written in Greek.
The barn had to be a hundred degrees. I could go to the beach, but then I’d have to look at the Fun House. Too close to Luxe. And Dewey.
A hasty knock. Then another.
I leaped to my feet and, with my heart in my throat, pulled open the barn doors.
Luxe stood there, a delicate smattering of blood marring her nostrils, her chin. “What happened?” I exclaimed. “Are you hurt?”
If he had touched her, if he’d laid one finger on her without her permission—
Absently wiping her face, she marched past me to rummage through the crates by the window, her beaded dress swishing with each step. “Where does Roger keep the gin?”
“Luxe?” I pressed. “Are you okay?”
She paced the floor on bare feet, her soles dirty. She’d left in a rush. “It doesn’t have to be gin. Anything will do.”
I grabbed a dark green bottle from the shelf and handed it to her. “It’s water.”
She uncorked it with her teeth and took a long drink. The skin around her mouth tightened in her telltale sign of pain, and her gaze darted around the room, refusing to meet mine.
I was going to murder the bastard.
“Here.” I dusted off an upside-down bucket and pushed it toward her. “Sit.”
“I barge in here uninvited, and you’re so nice to me. Why are you always so nice to me?” She slid against the barn wall until she reached the floor, then curled her bare legs to her chest.
I lowered myself beside her and hugged my legs, too. Glancing at our identical positions, she cracked a smile, as heavy as lead yet as fragile as glass. But when her eyes found mine, her smile shattered. She looked away, tears spilling down her flushed cheeks.
Unable to help myself, I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “Is this okay?”
A small nod against my shoulder. Her body shook as she finally let out whatever she’d been holding inside.
Dewey was a dead man.
“You can talk to me,” I murmured. “Whenever you’re ready.”
She swiped at her wet face. “I’m sorry, I just—I didn’t know where else to go.”
I resisted the urge to wipe away her tears. “Colette and Millie are working?”
“You can’t tell them I was here. Or anyone.”
She was trembling as if the barn wasn’t sweltering. “Luxe, what happened?”
“Dewey traveled,” she blurted. “He rewound time from the inauguration to tonight.”
I froze. No wonder he’d disappeared so abruptly during the show. “The inauguration? But that’s—”
“Seven weeks away. Which means he’s aged seven hundred weeks.”
“Christ. That’s over thirteen years.”
“I knew you’d do the math.” A frail smile graced her lips, gone in an instant.
I sat up taller. If she’d come here to talk to me, I wasn’t going to let her down. “Why did he travel? Did his family attack again?”
A small nod. “His brother, George, shot me, apparently, and was about to shoot Dewey. Dewey had a split second to travel, and he went too far.” Her hands shook as she took another sip of water.
Luxe lying on the floor, lifeless. I shook away the horrible image. “Did he say why George did it?”
“Because Dewey won. And I helped him.” She dragged her hands over her face. “It never ends. The Chronoses are after me now. And Dewey—”
“He won’t let anything happen to you.” The admission tasted bitter on my tongue. No matter how I felt about the guy, I couldn’t deny his power. “Clearly, he’s willing to go to great lengths to protect you.”
With a groan, she buried her head in her hands. “That may be an even bigger problem.”
So she wasn’t as enamored with Dewey as she seemed. Gently, I turned her chin so I could see her face. “Luxe, did he hurt you?”
She exhaled slowly, her expression unreadable. “No,” she finally said. “I just got the impression that he’s not the man I thought he was.”
No kidding. “Is there a chance Dewey lied about what happened?”
She shook her head. “I spoke to Trevor Edwardes when I left. He said the memory had been replaying in Dewey’s mind. George tried to kill Dewey, and Dewey traveled back too far.”
Well, that certainly complicated things. “Maybe Dewey’s wrong. Did he see you, ah, die?”
“He said I was lying backstage, on the ground, covered in blood. Trevor’s going to listen closely to Dewey’s thoughts in case he left something out.” Her brows pinched together. This close, I could press my finger on the little crinkle they formed and smooth it out. If only taking away her pain was that easy.
“Maybe something else happened. Maybe you faked your own death. To get away.”
That earned me a soft chuckle. “And why would I do that?”
“Maybe you wanted to see the world. Maybe you realized you were working far too hard, and you needed a vacation. Maybe,” I continued, emboldened by the twitch of those perfect lips, “you wanted him off your back so you could run off with a handsome stranger.”
Her weak smile was all the reward I needed. “I told you, I stopped wanting to leave Charmant the moment I grew up.”
“And I told you, I don’t believe that.”
She rested her head against the barn wall. “It’s possible that I’m starting to feel trapped.”
“See? Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Dewey mentioned marriage.” She looked away, her eyes beginning to well once more.
My newfound hope came crashing down. “Marriage?”
She nodded.
“Do you want to marry him?”
She didn’t answer for a heartbeat. Then another. Finally, she shook her head.
Sweet, selfish relief. She needed to untangle herself from him as soon as possible—but he wasn’t going to give up so easily. He’d already shaved thirteen years off his life. The more chips a guy like Dewey had on the table, the less likely he was to fold.
“Christ,” I muttered, slouching against the wall. “This is bad.”
“And now you see my predicament.” She lifted her hands as if weighing her options. “Stay my current course and help a bad man become mayor, then marry him even though my time-traveling in-laws are already trying to kill me. Or . . .” Her right hand remained in the air. “Well, there is no other option, is there? I’m not going to quit on my family, so my only choice is to stay alive and miserable.”
“You deserve to be happy. Like you were during the show.”
Her face lit up for the briefest of seconds. “I knew you’d see that. But while I let my focus slip, Dewey became some future Dewey, and I didn’t even notice I’d dropped his lightstring in the process.”
“Lightstring?”
Alarm flashed in her golden eyes, though she flicked her wrist dismissively. “It’s a magic thing. You wouldn’t understand.”
I ignored the way that stung. “Do you charm him all the time?”
“He’s never given me a jewel.” She kicked at the hay, her gaze cast downward.
“I didn’t give you a jewel, either.”
My words lingered between us. There was no denying the truth—that first night, she’d somehow charmed me into almost leaping over the balcony and giving up my mother’s brooch. And in the Fun House, I’d been so smitten by her, I’d hardly been able to form a sentence.
I pressed the pad of my thumb to the corners of her eyes, then the corners of her mouth. Her skin was frigid despite the relentless heat of the night. “When you’re charming him, you grimace. Using magic hurts you, doesn’t it?”
“Revelle magic hurts the jewels, not us.” She wouldn’t look at me.
“But your magic is different,” I said slowly. “Your magic hurts you.”
“Don’t—even thinking such thoughts is dangerous.”
Not an admission, but also not a denial. “How?”
“If an Edwardian heard your thoughts, he’d tell a Chronos. And if the Chronoses suspected there was a way around the usual cost of magic, they’d stop at nothing to find it out.”
She was afraid. And she was right: the Chronoses possessed powerful magic, and the only thing that held that power in check was the time it shaved off their lives. Trys constantly lamented how much she wished she could travel without turning old and gray. But if there were a way for the Chronoses to change the past as often as they wanted?
For that sort of power, they’d do terrible things.
She sat up straight. “This is bad, Jamison. Really, really bad.”
“I didn’t mean to pry—”
“You can’t tell anyone. You understand that, don’t you?”
I held my hands over my heart. “I promise.”
She gripped the sides of her head, loosening her pinned curls. “I’m being so selfish.”
“Selfish? If I’m not mistaken, you’ve been in pain for your family for a long time. Have you been doing this your whole life?”
Another dismissive wave. “Only a few years. I figured it out when I was eleven.”
“How?”
“My mother had just died.” Her body sagged, as if uttering the words was exhausting. “My cousins and I went to Main Street to beg. None of us had ever panhandled before, and we were bad at it. We wound up sitting on a curb across from an ice-cream parlor. Children waltzed inside with their mothers and returned with chocolate all over their faces. I was so jealous. So very jealous and hungry. When I spotted a wealthy-looking man entering alone, I focused on him, willing him to buy us something. I wished it so hard, the whole world went black. And to my shock, when he emerged, he had a box of chocolates for us to share.”
“That’s incredible.” Her will was so strong, even magic bent to it. “Did you tell them?”
She shook her head. “Only Uncle Wolffe. I wanted to tell Colette and Millie, but the more people who know, the more dangerous it is for us all.”
She was retreating into herself again, folding up like a paper doll. “So you’ve carried this burden alone.”
“Burden?” She laughed darkly. “I’m the lucky star. My magic is a gift.”
“It doesn’t sound like one.”
“Does it matter?” Her eyes dimmed as she shook her head. “Without Dewey, all my family has left is a big, sober, leaking circus tent. Magic or not, we need him.”
The bastard had her convinced she was trapped. “The Revelles have survived worse.”
“We have, but we’re in too deep now, thanks to me.”
“What about making your own liquor?” I suggested.
“Tried it. Tastes like battery acid, and we can’t keep up with the demand.”
“Can the Effigens help you?”
“Their magic requires more of everything. If we want stronger drinks, or better-tasting ones, they need to combine several drinks in one. We’d waste our supply within days.”
“And he’s really the only bootlegger in Charmant?” I pressed. “That seems hard to believe.”
“He’s the only one left. All his competition disappeared.”
Her ominous words hung in the air.
She was in more trouble than I’d realized. “Where does Dewey think you are now?”
“I put him to sleep.”
“You can do that?”
Those sparkling eyes narrowed. “You think I’m a monster.”
“No! Not at all! I mean, I knew your magic was powerful, and that its effect lingered for weeks—”
“What do you mean, lingered for weeks?”
Whoops. No need to make this about me and my ridiculous crush. “That’s not the point. The point is: you’re a Revelle, one with an incredible gift. If you can put Dewey to sleep, surely you can figure out a way to beat him. You still have nine days to sabotage the election.”
“He’ll just turn back the clocks over and over until he wins. I’m pretty sure he’s already done it. And if he suspects that I’m onto him, he’ll do it again.” She rubbed her temples and winced. Even now, she was in pain. And she was frightened, though she wouldn’t admit it.
“So you’ll pretend to love him.” The words turned to ash on my tongue. That she’d have to spend another second with him, after he’d rattled her—it was beyond repulsive. “Why not use your magic to give yourself a little space from him? At least until we have a better plan.”
“One that doesn’t end up with me dead?” Her smile was sad.
“We’re not going to let that happen.” He wasn’t going to let that happen. I couldn’t even successfully punch a Chronos, but Dewey would keep her safe.
“As long as I hold on to his lightstring at all times, I think I can control him.” She nodded to herself, a bit of her usual strength returning. “I’ll make him believe he and I are desperately in love, and I’ll keep him from hurting anyone—or letting his family hurt mine. That buys me time to figure out what the hell to do next.”
“Buys us time.” I gave her my sternest look. “You’re not alone in this. Not anymore.”
She looked at me then, shadows lining her tired eyes. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”
“I’m glad you did. Are you going to tell Wolffe?”
“Not yet. The fewer people who know, the safer for us all. Once enough time has passed that Dewey won’t be able to travel back to erase what I’ve learned, I’ll tell my uncle.”
Silence settled over us.
“So technically,” I mused, “we’ve already lived the next seven weeks, but Dewey erased them.”
“Strange, isn’t it?”
“It could have been the best summer of our lives.” An eerie sensation trickled through my bones, not unlike déjà vu. What, exactly, had he stolen from us?
Luxe relaxed against the barn wall. “Maybe I fixed things with my cousins. Maybe we went to the midsummer fair by the harbor, just like we used to, and we stayed up until sunrise.”
“Maybe I tracked down my parents.” Maybe I found them, I silently added. “If you knew the rest of summer didn’t count, and you could do anything you wanted, what would you do?”
She crinkled her brow. “No consequences? Hard to picture.”
“Try.”
She fiddled with a piece of hay. “I suppose I’d take a vacation.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “I knew it. Every time Roger or I mention our travels, your face lights up like a Christmas tree.”
“But I’d come back!” she insisted. “Maybe just see what’s out there a teeny-tiny bit, then come back home.”
Home. She spoke it with such certainty, such quiet fervor.
“How about you?” she asked. “Besides find your parents, what would you do with seven weeks you knew didn’t count?”
“Oh, you mean besides the one thing I’ve wanted to do my whole life.”
She snorted, and my heart squeezed. “I mean it. What else would you do?”
“I’ve been living the last three years as if they didn’t count.”
“Just rub it in, why don’t you?”
“It’s not as nice as it sounds. Seriously!” I flicked hay at her as she rolled her eyes. “Once, a little after I left St. Douglas’s, I took a wrong turn and nearly fell off a cliff. It hit me: not a soul would have mourned me if I died. No one would’ve noticed or reported me missing. I would have lain at the bottom of that ravine until my bones were picked clean by vultures.” I’d meant it to be an amusing tale, but my throat tightened with each word. I’d never quite gotten over it, how nothing had tethered me to this world. Until Roger, of course, and eventually Trys.
“That’s terrifying.” Gone was her teasing tone.
“It’s fine.” I looked away. “But I don’t need another summer where I float through life alone. I want to grow roots. I want to have people in my life who notice if I’m missing.”
“Roger and Trys would notice,” she said quietly.
“Two wonderful degenerates. A far cry from your ninety-six Revelles.”
Luxe peered up at me. “Make that three.”
My breath caught. Was she being a friend? Or was she still haunted by the memory of that incredible kiss, too? I couldn’t help myself; my gaze slipped to her lips.
She leaned closer, candlelight painting her golden. “This very moment could be erased, too. Dewey or another Chronos could travel, and this would cease to exist.”
My pulse quickened. “As if it never happened.”
“As if it doesn’t even count.” Her gaze drifted to my mouth, her bare arm brushing mine.
What was wrong with me? I was thinking about kissing a girl who’d just run barefoot from an obsessed time traveler’s bed. Tears still glistened like jewels on her lashes. She wanted support, not another lovesick admirer.
I folded my hands behind my back, where they couldn’t complicate things any further.
She jumped to her feet. “How’s the search going?”
My pulse still thudded through my ears. “I’m sorry?”
“The search for your parents.” Her rushed words were punctuated by a too-bright smile. “How’s that going?”
“The search? Yes, the search.” I wiped the sweat from my brow. “It’s a mess, actually. Everything here feels familiar, yet I have no idea why.”
She knew I’d gotten the wrong idea, that I’d read too much into her kindness. Even now, pity lingered in her bright eyes. “Would you want to know,” she began carefully, “what happened to your parents, even if it made you sad?”
“Of course,” I said without hesitation. “Anything to move on.”
“Then you should talk to my grandmother again. She’s hiding something.”
I stared at her as she kicked at fallen hay. “Did she tell you that?”
“Sort of.” Her teeth scraped her bottom lip. “She didn’t tell me what it was, but she recognized your parents. I could tell.”
Damn. That didn’t bode well for my parents still being alive.
“Talk to her tomorrow,” she said. “Maybe try to butter her up first.”
“I don’t think I’m any good at that.”
“I doubt that.” Her gaze drifted toward the wall. “Roger and Trysta are coming.”
“How can you tell?”
She only tapped her head. “Do you want me to go?”
I never wanted her to leave. But she looked so exhausted, a breeze could blow her over. “You should rest.”
“From now on, I’m not sleeping. At least, not while Dewey’s still awake.” She stretched, suppressing a yawn. “What a night we’ve had.”
We. Despite everything, I liked the sound of that.
Roger’s boisterous singing drifted through the open windows, and Luxe paused by the door. There was so much more to say, wasn’t there? Words of encouragement. Empty promises. An apology for nearly kissing her again.
“Good night, Jamison.” She slipped into the night, as graceful as a dream.
As she passed the window, her telltale signs of pain emerged: her full lips wrestling with a grimace, the corners of her eyes crinkling with tension. She’d been charming Dewey from a distance the whole damn time.
