I woke in a panic and checked my memories. Still there. Dewey hadn’t traveled to before our awful conversation, or I wouldn’t have even thought to check.
By sheer stubbornness, I fought the urge to drift back to dreamland. Colette and Millie still slept soundly beside me, but Dewey was an early riser, and I couldn’t risk him waking before me.
It had been one week since our night in the Diamond Room. One week of charming him all day, of sleeping only when I felt myself on the brink of collapse. Without my magic lulling him into contentment, Dewey could hurt someone. He could realize I was only pretending to care about him and travel back to when I was still unaware of his true character. But one week meant it’d cost him another two years to redo that night in the Diamond Room. Was that too high a price to keep me in the dark?
I couldn’t risk finding out.
Digging into my little inkwell, my mouth opened in a silent scream as the pain flooded me. Closing my eyes, I followed the long lightstring drifting above Dewey’s mansion on the harbor. His aging made him blisteringly insecure, and his family’s attacks made him paranoid. More than once in the past week, he’d suggested I sleep at his mansion, breaking every uppity Chronos rule of propriety. For your own safety, my sweet. The election is just days away, my sweet. Though I used my magic to temper those possessive urges, I let some paranoia take root. If his family struck again—when they struck again, really—we needed our time traveler to be our guard dog.
The other negative feelings—the insecurity, the regrets, the swift jealousy each time I stepped away—simply wouldn’t do. When it came to me, Dewey needed to be in a perpetual state of happiness. From the moment he woke until he finally drifted to sleep, my magic carved away all other worries, leaving him feeling beloved. Bold. Content with the sophisticated man whose reflection greeted him in the mirror. The more people who saw his aged face for the first time, the harder I had to work to temper his misery. It was the one mistake he couldn’t undo.
But I never left him to his own devices. I couldn’t risk it.
I’ll have Colette fall in a much larger hole next time.
Before Dewey arrived to fetch me for yet another long day of canvassing together, I slipped into Uncle Wolffe’s office to practice the techniques Trevor had showed me. Now more than ever, I needed to keep my thoughts private. But I hadn’t even been there fifteen minutes before Aunt Caroline poked her head through the door.
“Dewey’s here for Luxe.” She winked at me.
I suppressed the urge to slump into the armchair. Each day, he arrived a little earlier, making small talk with my skeptical family while waiting for me. Every movement of his was so rehearsed, each smile careful and practiced, as if appearing kind was something he’d studied.
As I rose, covering my yawn, Aunt Caroline tousled my hair. “Not enough beauty sleep, ice princess? I didn’t see you in the Fun House last night.”
“The election’s in two days,” I whined, “and canvassing in high heels hurts my feet.”
She caught my wrist as I slipped by, whirling me to face her. “Make sure you rest, Luxie girl. It’s no fun teasing you while you run yourself ragged.”
“Don’t worry.” I patted her hand. “I’ll be nice and lazy again after the election.”
“I mean it. Your mother may be gone, but we’re still watching out for you. All of us.”
For a long moment, I didn’t trust myself to speak, not with the knot swelling in my throat. Uncle Wolffe rearranged the papers on his desk, his lightstring battling the grief he so expertly avoided.
“I’m taking a break tonight,” I finally said, “and going to the midsummer fair with Colette and Millie.” Jamison had given me the idea when we’d dreamed of a summer without consequences. Colette and Millie had been shocked when I’d asked but had agreed to come.
“Good.” She let go of my hand. “No Dewey?”
“No Dewey.” If he let me out of his sight, for once.
He waited for me in the hall, his lightstring glowing maroon as I appeared. That was the kicker: underneath the calculated, calm exterior, underneath the aggressive streak and the possessive urges, Dewey genuinely cared for me. “Ready, my sweet?”
I took the arm he offered. “Ready.”
We spent the afternoon knocking on doors and shaking hands. If anything, his older face was working in his favor. People who didn’t know him assumed he was in his thirties, and those who did, I charmed into being touched by his tale of saving my life. We were quickly becoming Charmant’s favorite couple. And I played my part well. Because as much as I didn’t trust Dewey, he was at least trying to win my family’s favor.
Unlike George, who’d shot me, apparently.
Dewey sat in the front row during yet another rehearsal for the election night performance at the winter theater. Hours later, during my trapeze act, he lounged in the executive suite with Trevor, his lightstring brimming with a possessive fervor that made me want to crawl out of my skin.
I needed a break. I needed space. More than anything, I needed to speak with Trevor alone. If anyone knew what lurked underneath Dewey’s mask, it was his dutiful mind reader.
But Dewey waited backstage for me after the show. “Excellent job, my sweet! Are you ready to call it a night?”
I endured his kiss, keeping my head high and my smile serene. “Actually, I told my cousins I’d stop by the fair with them, remember?”
“The election’s the day after tomorrow. We should rest.”
“You should rest.” I squeezed his hands. You wish to give me space tonight. You wish to see me rejuvenated by time with my cousins. “I’ll see you in the morning?”
He hesitated as my magic wrestled with his selfish instincts. “I don’t think it’s wise.”
“Trevor can keep me safe. Isn’t that right, Trevor?”
Flustered, the Edwardian tugged on his collar. “Yes, Miss Revelle.”
“It’s settled, then.” I kissed Dewey on both cheeks. You’re feeling exhausted, and you wish to see me go. “You take your guards, and I’ll take Trevor.”
“You’re just stopping by the fair? Then you’ll head home?”
I flashed him my sweetest smile. “Absolutely.”
During the last week of July, tents and food carts lined the narrow grasslands between the harbor and the sea. Still safely in Night District territory, though not far from Dewey’s estate and, behind it, the Day District. With every step I took toward the bed where he tossed and turned, his swirling lightstring shortened and my piercing headache subsided a smidge.
My magic was not a fan of the constant strain required of it these days.
“I did as you asked,” Trevor said, “and I’ve paid close attention to Mr. Chronos’s thoughts. You’re right; he’s been hiding a lot from me.”
I knew it.
“But he’s far from the first person on Charmant to pretend to be someone he isn’t.” He slowed his step to look at me. “Plenty of people think ugly thoughts, but Dewey does kind things. He has never denied me a day off. He’s given me raises before I’ve even asked. Frankly, I couldn’t ask for a better employer.”
A week ago, I would have agreed with him. “He hurt Colette,” I reminded him. “I can never forget that.”
He looked pained. “I know. But who would you prefer as mayor: the man who twisted your cousin’s ankle to be your hero, or the man who’s willing to kill his own brother for power?”
“Neither.” I made a beeline for the balloon arc at the entrance.
Trevor hurried to catch me. “You don’t want to marry him. I understand that. But he loves you. He’d do anything to win you over, including keep your family safe.”
“Anything except give me a jewel.” With a big enough rock on my finger, I could supplement my secondary magic for months, maybe even years. And if he did win the election, the Revelles’ influence on the new mayor was guaranteed. All I needed was a big, fat diamond.
Millie waved us over to where she and Colette stood by the entrance. She took Trevor’s arm. “How are you feeling this fine night, Mr. Edwardes?”
“I am feeling very happy to be here with you.”
Millie beamed, her lightstring tingeing scarlet as she fell into step with him. Interesting.
“Dewey’s fine with you spending a night with us?” Colette asked me, her voice hushed. “So close to the election?”
Wonderful. Even without seeing the painful string of light tethering me to him, Colette knew I was on a tight leash. “I don’t need his permission.”
“Did you help him take out his dentures before you left?”
I elbowed her, trying to hide my smile. “We shouldn’t make fun of him for aging.”
“Can you imagine waking up tomorrow and being thirty-four?” She shuddered.
“That’s older than our mothers were.” When they died.
Her graceful steps sputtered to a stop. We used to talk about our mothers all the time, but we were out of practice.
“That’s right,” she finally said, her voice soft. “And they were beautiful.”
I tried to conjure my mother’s face, but time had blurred the details. I was forgetting her.
As delicate whorls of grief floated through her lightstring, Colette looped her elbow through mine. “Well, Nana’s an absolute fox, so I daresay we have decades of beauty still ahead of us.”
“I wouldn’t mind her boobs.”
“Keep dreaming. Look, there they are.” She pointed to Roger, Jamison, and Trysta.
A head above the crowd, Jamison was hard to miss. The sleeves of his navy button-down shirt were rolled to his forearms, and dark tendrils of unruly hair escaped his fedora. Instead of his earnest golden hue, his lightstring was an unusual blue, like the night sky just before the first stars appear. He was hurting, but he brightened at the sight of us. At the sight of me.
My foolish heart stuttered. He’d been avoiding me for days. Maybe he’d finally forgiven me for practically throwing myself at him.
Millie nudged me. “You should go for it, you know.”
I smoothed the embroidered edge of my summer frock. “I told you, we’re just friends.”
“Ah yes, your first night out in years just happens to be when your new ‘friend’ is here. Hi, fellas!”
“Good evening, dolls! And Trevor, of course.” Roger tipped his hat.
Trys gave me a nod. An improvement, at least. As she turned to Colette, her lightstring sparked like fireworks. That was new. I glanced around, but of course, no one else could see it.
“Well?” Roger threw his arms around his friends. “What’s the plan?”
“Why don’t we do all the touristy things? The Ferris wheel first, of course.” It’d been the highlight of my summer when my mother used to take me. “Then we’ll hit the food carts and make our way through the fair games . . . Why are you all looking at me like that?”
Millie blinked innocently. “Like what?”
“Like I’m slurring my words like Nana after too much wine.” I hugged myself against the cool breeze. “This is how we always do the fair, right?”
“It’s just, you haven’t been out with us in a while,” Colette said carefully, “and the way we do the fair now has sort of . . . matured.”
Of course. I was describing a night on the town for eleven-year-olds. They hadn’t stopped coming here just because I’d stopped going with them. “How do you usually do it?”
Roger lifted a shoulder. “Before I left, it was Russian roulette with Effigen drinks, then as many zeppole as we could stomach without throwing up.”
“Effigen drinks will kill our budget, but . . .” Colette’s smile grew as she glanced around the circle. “Why don’t we make tonight a bit of a competition?”
“You? Turning something into a competition?” Roger feigned shock.
“Ooh!” Millie clapped excitedly. “Let’s play Hats!”
Colette grinned. “You read my mind.”
“Oh, this is my favorite! We still do all the things Luxe mentioned, but while we do them, try to get someone to give you their hat.” Millie’s gaze danced around the circle. “At the end of the night, the person with the best hat wins.”
Trysta frowned. “You want us to just ask people to give us their hats?”
“You can ask. Or . . .” With an exaggerated flirty smile, Colette threw an arm around Trysta’s shoulders, snagged her hat, and flicked it onto her own head. “You can do it like this.”
Jamison hesitated. “I’m not sure that’ll work for me.”
“With that baby face, I think you’ll do just fine.” Millie winked at me conspiratorially. I stepped on her foot.
“Doesn’t he have an innocent face?” Trys pinched his cheek. “I tell him that all the time.”
“Winner gets to choose a dare for the rest of us. Sound good?” This time, it wasn’t a challenge glittering in Colette’s eyes as she looked at me. It was something more delicate.
Hope.
I took Trysta’s hat from Colette’s head and placed it on mine. “I sure hope you like losing, Col.”
She laughed. “I never lose. You’ll see.”
Roger led the charge to find drinks. Jamison hung back, and I risked slowing down to keep pace with him.
“What’s going on there?” I nodded toward Colette and Trys, whose heads were bent in whispered conversation.
The corners of his mouth tugged upward. “If it has happened, they’re both being tight-lipped about it.”
At least I wasn’t the only one who didn’t know. “Is this why Colette’s been sneaking into bed at dawn?”
“I’ve caught Trys smiling—for no reason. Which may not sound like a big deal, but for her, that’s practically shouting their love from the rooftops.”
Colette whispered something in Trys’s ear, and Trys laughed, smacking Colette’s arm.
Glancing at Jamison, I buried the nagging pull of envy. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry about me. Everything’s Jake.”
I gave him a look. He knew I could see how dim his lightstring was tonight.
Removing his hat, he played with the brim. “I found out what happened to my parents.”
“From Nana?” I stopped walking.
“No, an Edwardian in the Day District. Mag.”
“Mag the Hag.” Of course; the old Edwardian collected shiny secrets like a magpie.
Shiny secrets like mine.
I grabbed his arm. “Did you talk about me?”
He flushed. “What? No—”
“Did you think of me at all? Even for a moment? Because if she knows about my . . . I’m screwed. We’re all screwed. And—”
“Luxe, it’s okay. I didn’t think of you once. I swear it. Not even for a moment.”
For some reason, his words were far from comforting. I withdrew my hand before he went running for the hills again.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” His hand raked through his hair. “I just . . . I was distracted.”
“By your parents. Of course.” Careful not to look at him, I kept walking, all the while willing my cheeks to stop blushing. “So what did you find out?”
His lightstring was so blue, it was almost black. Whatever he’d learned, no part of him wanted to speak of it. “Let’s just have fun, and at the end of the night, I’ll tell you everything.”
“Whenever you’re ready,” I said softly. “Besides, tonight is all about fun. And hats, apparently.” I scanned the crowd for one worthy of stealing.
He bent toward me and dropped his voice. “Can you have fun while you’re charming him?”
Of course he could tell. No wonder he and Roger were close; their carefree exteriors hid big hearts, ones they kept attuned to everyone else’s needs. A small nod was all I dared.
“But you’re in pain.”
“You’d be surprised how quickly one can adapt to pain.”
“I wouldn’t be, actually.” His sapphire eyes cut right through me. “So your plan is to use your magic all the time now?”
“And a jewel, if I can get him to give me one.” I checked on Dewey’s lightstring. In the minutes I’d let my focus slip, brutal self-doubt had clawed its way back into his mood. If I let him fall asleep like that, he’d toss and turn all night, plagued by nightmares I couldn’t see. Slowing my step, I dug deeper into my inkwell, ignoring the hot lash of pain across the base of my skull. You’re safe. You’re happy. And you’re sleepy. Very sleepy.
My magic fought against the strain of the distance, pressure building behind my eyes, against my skull, as if the inkwell was going to burst—
Jamison steadied me, and I leaned into him, determined not to pass out. All I had to do was hold on during this little magical hissy fit, and it would pass.
It would pass.
“What happened?” Colette was so close, I breathed in her coconut shampoo.
Finally, Dewey fell asleep. “I’m okay,” I managed to say. “I just . . . tripped.”
She lifted her brows. Revelles didn’t trip.
“It was me and my big feet,” Jamison blurted. “I got in her way.”
Colette’s gaze fell to where Jamison still steadied my waist. He wisely let go.
Millie threw an arm around Colette. “You know what they say about big feet?”
Jamison’s cheeks grew brighter by the second. “I, ah, don’t—”
“Big socks.” With a grin, Millie dragged Colette away.
“Thank you,” I whispered to Jamison.
He handed me his handkerchief. Yet another bloody nose. “It’s still dangerous for you, right? Even if you’re not using your magic, if an Edwardian—”
“Only if we think about it. Which we won’t, because we’re burying our thoughts in hooch.” I took his forearm, ignoring the heat of his skin as I pulled him toward the others.
“Love your horns.” Roger winked as he took his change from the Effigen bartender, slipping an emerald into his revenge stash. He turned toward us, arms bursting with colorful drinks in souvenir glasses shaped like naked people. “These were cheaper than I expected.”
“Dewey slashed the price of booze this week.” It was part of his election strategy: making people so grateful, they’d forget he was the reason prices had been sky-high. After the election, there was nothing stopping him from raising them again.
Trys took the drinks from Roger and passed them around. “Silly Willy for Trevor. Sunshine Special for Millie. The Philosopher for Colette. Arbor Righty for Jamison. Cow Spots for Roger. And”—with a too-sweet smile, she handed me a glass of shimmering gold—“for the Radiant Ruby, a tall glass of Gold Digger.”
“Ha ha.” I took the glass without letting my smile break. Better to be a good sport than to give Trys the satisfaction of biting back.
Before I could take a sip, Jamison pried it from my fingers, replacing it with his green one. “Let’s trade. We all know I could use a little more gold.”
He clinked the golden drink to mine, but Roger nearly knocked us over. “The toast!”
Colette lifted her glass. “Cheers?”
“A good toast.”
“Oh! What’s that toast that Nana always says?” Millie wrinkled her brow.
“I remember it.” Roger raised his glass.
“The Day District fools go to sleep with their jewels
in bedrooms as lonely as hell.
But when the Big Tent’s your home, you’re never alone,
so raise a glass to the family Revelle!”
Trys cracked her neck on both sides before draining her glass. Roger whistled at her, then did the same.
“We’re chugging these?” I murmured to Millie.
“Usually, we just sip them, but when in Rome, right?” She tilted her head back and began to chug the cloudy yellow liquid.
Jamison still held his drink. “I’m following your lead here,” he admitted.
It had been years since I’d had an Effigen cocktail. The enchanted booze would help protect me from mind readers, but there was no telling how strong it was. “Bottoms up, Mr. Port.”
I hardly registered the flicker of emotion in Jamison’s eyes before I swallowed. My drink was thicker than I expected, though nearly odorless, its only taste a lingering bitterness. Like I’d chewed on tree bark, but delicious tree bark.
Bark. Bark bark.
Roger slammed his empty glass on the bar cart. “Let’s go find some hats.”
The strings of lights glimmered overhead as we wove our way through the food carts. I paused to smell the savory spiced meats. Melted butter slathered on balls of half-baked dough. Swirls of cotton candy that stretched nearly as tall as Jamison. As tall as the trees themselves.
God, I loved trees.
Those beautiful, neon evergreens wagged their bark hips as skillfully as any Revelle dancer. Each time I blinked, they glowed brighter than the stars, brighter than lightstrings—
Millie squeezed my arm. “Remember when Roger used to get us fried doughnuts, and we’d eat them by the docks?”
As if I could forget the dusting of powdered sugar on my tongue, my hands, our laps. “How did he manage to afford all those?”
“Oh, he definitely stole them.” Colette shook her head but couldn’t hide her mirth. “Probably used his revenge stash to charm his way into enough for all of us, didn’t you, Rog?”
But Roger was too busy flirting with the woman behind the fruit stand. Atop the inky, cloudlike hair framing her pretty brown face was a towering hat of bananas, pineapples, and apples.
Millie whistled. “Now that’s a hat.”
“She’s never going to give it to him.” Colette scowled as Roger rubbed one of the bananas, and the woman laughed. Magic or not, Roger had her in his clutches.
“You’re just jealous you didn’t see it first.” Trys pulled Colette’s arm. “C’mon, I want chocolate-covered pretzels.”
“You okay?” Jamison asked me.
“You’re like a tree, you know?” I called up to him. “A ridiculously tall tree.”
“A tree?” His gorgeous face broke into the first genuine grin he’d cracked all night, golden light pouring from his mouth. I waved my hand in front of it, watching the beams break and reform over my fingers.
“Did your drink work?” I asked as he tore a pretzel in half, handing me the bigger piece.
“I think so. Unless you dyed your hair gold.”
“Ahem!” Roger strutted in between us, an enormous pile of real fruit stacked like a pyramid atop his head. Jamison tried to whistle appreciatively, but he couldn’t stop laughing.
No matter what else happened, that laugh made tonight a success.
We meandered through the magicians and their gimmicky tricks, my tree trunk never straying from my side. “How’s your pretzel?” he asked.
“It’s delicious,” I gushed. “Like leaves.”
“Leaves?”
“Leaves and sap and—oh! The Ferris wheel!” I pulled him toward the spinning lights. “Can’t we ride now? Pretty please?”
“Of course.” Jamison nodded to Roger, whose face was practically hidden by the enormous fruit hat. The seven of us made our way to the back of the line.
Millie sidled up beside me. “If you want to ride with Jamison, make sure you’re standing next to him when it’s time to get on.”
“I’ll ride with anyone,” I insisted.
“Sure you will.” She grinned knowingly as we joined them in line.
Glancing up at the Ferris wheel, Roger adjusted his heavy hat with both hands. “Remember the one in Chicago? Or was that California?”
Jamison shuddered. “You kept rocking the damn thing. I was sure you’d get us killed.”
Chicago. California. They’d grown wings and seen the world. Meanwhile, I was a firefly circling a jar. Entertaining to watch, but slowly suffocating.
The line shifted again, and the Ferris wheel operator helped Trys and Colette climb inside their passenger car. Millie lingered beside me, letting the gap between her and Jamison yawn wider. Last chance, she mouthed.
I shouldn’t. Dewey might ask Trevor to report everything we did back to him.
The Ferris wheel operator motioned for Jamison to climb into the next car. Roger stepped back, offering either of us the free seat. Millie dangled her leg in front of her, taking the final step in slow motion, her antics making Trevor wheeze with unbridled laughter. Effigen booze or not, he was smitten.
The trees themselves beckoned as I stepped forward and, to Millie’s utter delight, sat beside Jamison.
