I’d had my fair share of kisses, checked them off the list of experiences my mother would have wanted for me. A Night District boy whose family worked the docks. An Effigen who broke the kiss to blurt out math problems to make sure I hadn’t obliterated his mind. An overconfident tourist so determined to seduce the star of the Revelle show that he’d dipped me backward like he was auditioning for a motion picture. Those kisses had been fine. Exciting, even.
But no kiss had come close to this one.
For a heartbeat, Dewey froze in surprise. Then he leaned forward, brushing his lips to mine with a tenderness that warmed me deep in my chest. His mouth moved slowly, dotingly, stealing my breath. As he pressed a steady hand to my cheek, his thumb brushed against the spot where my pulse beat erratically at my throat. He kissed me delicately, every pass of his lips brimming with possibility, but there was nothing delicate about the dizzying rush of adrenaline coursing through me, more thrilling than letting go of the trapeze and somersaulting through the air, those electrifying moments where sky and ground swirled together, daring me to fall.
The Big Tent’s music faded to oblivion. The chattering of distant voices disappeared. We’d stumbled upon something incredible, something startlingly potent, and it was only us.
He broke the kiss, sucking in air as if he, too, had forgotten how to breathe. With our foreheads pressed together, neither of us spoke. Silent in quiet reverence to this perfect, fragile moment. His shoulders rose and fell with each ragged breath, but his awestruck gaze never wavered from me. Waiting. Savoring.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him again. His skin was feverish through his tuxedo shirt, but he shivered as I buried my hands in his hair, dark locks cool between my fingers. He inhaled softly against my mouth as I melted into him, his arms cradling me as if I were something precious. Our lips grew bolder, and my heart raced so fast it might burst—
Someone knocked.
We froze, our mouths millimeters apart. He cupped my face as if he couldn’t believe I was real. A Chronos who was kind and inquisitive and kissed like that? The feeling was mutual.
And he was going to give me all the liquor in the world.
Another knock.
I groaned. “Go away!”
Laughter relaxed his face. I couldn’t help myself; I ran my thumb along his jawline. It could have cut diamonds. And his thick hair, the way my hands had ruined whatever he’d used to slick it back, sending it tumbling over his forehead—
That damn knocking again, this time more insistent.
I untangled myself from his arms. “Don’t move an inch.”
Whoever was at the door was fired. Immediately.
Colette stood there with a handsome guy with dark hair and porcelain skin. Rich, too, judging by the expensive-looking vest and tie he wore. Good for her.
“This room’s taken.” She should have known better than to interrupt.
She grabbed the door before it shut again, her eyes flashing in warning. “Luxe, this is Dewey Chronos.”
I narrowed my eyes at the imposter, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but he held out his hand, his wristwatch unmistakable. One of a kind. He was Dewey Chronos.
Oh no.
No, no, NO.
Every black opal on his watch sang to my Revelle blood as he kissed my hand.
I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t believe I was such a fool.
“Your cousin said you wished to meet with me?” He arched a brow over his dark eyes. Brown, like Uncle Wolffe had said.
“Yes, of course. I, ah, noticed you in the crowd, and . . . my sincerest apologies, but give me just one teensy moment?”
Colette looked ready to throttle me, and Dewey opened his mouth to say more, but I closed the door. “Don’t go anywhere!” I called.
Bloody hell. I just slammed the door on the guy who held our future in his rich hands.
“Who was that?” the beautiful imposter asked. The one who had promised me all the liquor in the world.
“Get. Out.” I pointed to the window.
His eyes widened, their sapphire shade so lovely I wanted to gouge them out.
I grabbed a discarded high heel and aimed it at him. “Get out, or I’ll stab you in the neck and feed you to the tigers.”
“Luxe?” Colette fumbled with the keys. “We’re coming in.”
I was a dead girl. I’d had one job to do—
“Under the bed. Quick!” I lifted the shoe over the imposter, and he stumbled off the bed.
The door burst open just as the damn trickster crouched at my feet, barely out of sight.
“Welcome!” I dropped the shoe behind my back, and the stranger hissed in pain. I stomped my foot to drown out the sound.
Colette gave me a funny look. “I’ll leave you to it.”
The real Dewey Chronos removed his hat as he surveyed the room. Gone was the pale child I’d seen hugging his mother’s skirts all those years ago, replaced by this young man who, with his pristine haircut and sharp suit, looked as though he’d walked right off the page of a fashion magazine. The other one had messy hair in desperate need of a trim. He hadn’t even worn a tie. And I’d kissed him. Like a fool, I’d lost myself in that kiss.
I pressed a hand to my swollen lips and flashed Dewey a coquettish smile.
He handed me a bouquet of purple calla lilies. “Oh!” I exclaimed. “They’re—”
“Your favorite?” He smiled, revealing a faint dimple on his left cheek.
“Actually, yes.” He’d done his research. Who could have told him my favorite flower?
I nudged the imposter by my feet. He was much too big to fit under the bed, but he was going to have to try. “Thank you for meeting with me,” I began again. “I hope my cousin didn’t disturb your evening.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “When the star of the Revelle show summons you, it’s a good night indeed. Though I’d like to be clear up front: I won’t be giving you a jewel.”
My heart sank. I could practically hear the imposter chuckling.
“How about we get some fresh air?” I suggested. Loudly.
“So you don’t think me rude, then?” He was testing me. If only I could tap into my other magic to see what response would win him over.
Young and rich. Newly successful. He wanted to be admired.
Stepping around the bed, I looped my arm in his. “For not giving me a jewel? That makes you smart.”
He flashed two rows of brilliant white teeth. He was handsome, all right, and he knew it.
I led him toward the door, kicking the suit jacket with the diamond-shaped clock out of our way. “Allow me a moment to put on something a little, ah, warmer.”
“I’ll wait here.” He turned in the hallway, letting his eyes roam the length of me. He liked what he saw. Hopefully well enough to give us seriously discounted booze.
I held my smile while he pulled the door closed slowly. Very slowly.
As soon as it clicked shut, the other boy rose to his feet. So tall. If the real Dewey were this big, my uncle would have mentioned it. He strode right past me, stopping in front of the framed photograph of my mother and aunts on the beach.
“Where was this taken?” His voice was breathless, almost reverent.
Was he really asking me about a beach right now? “You need to leave. Now.”
He traced the intricate carvings on the dock. “Is this dock here, in Charmant?”
“I have no idea,” I lied, trying—and failing—to pull him toward the window.
He tore his gaze from the picture, eyes stormy. “Do you ever tell the truth?”
“You’re the liar!” I exclaimed. “You’re the one who talked your way into the Fun House pretending to be someone else. And then you promised me liquor!”
“You made me believe you felt something for me.” He shook his head in disgust.
Even worse, I had felt something. Like a lonely, lovesick sap, I’d taken one look at those pretty blue eyes and abandoned a lifetime of lessons about handling customers.
“And you made me believe you were worth my time.” I pointed to the window. “Now leave before you do more damage.”
“I’m not breaking my neck climbing out a second-story window. And I’m taking this.” He removed the picture from the wall, tucked it under his arm, and headed toward the door.
“Have you lost your mind?” I grabbed him, ignoring the hard muscle of the arms that had just held me close. “Out the window. And the picture stays.”
He ripped his arm away. “You want it? Then tell me where I can find this dock.”
“Do I look like a tour guide?” I ripped the frame from his hands, surprise working in my favor. “I don’t have time for this. Now go! Before I call the police.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Dewey’s a nice guy. I should warn him about your little games.”
He wouldn’t dare. “Dewey’s a businessman. He knows exactly what this is.”
“Then he won’t be surprised that you kissed me a few minutes ago.”
My cheeks burned. How dare he try to shame me. A high heel to the jugular was what he deserved, but I didn’t have time to hide a corpse. “It’s a small beach just west of the promenade. The dock’s gone—”
His face fell. “Then how will I know it’s the right beach?”
“Still not a tour guide.” I motioned toward the window.
He crossed his arms. “Still not leaving.”
“Fine,” I growled. “I’ll show you tomorrow—as long as you leave right now and never utter a word of this to anyone.”
He hesitated, clearly not trusting a word I said. Smart boy. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was going anywhere with him.
“Please,” I hissed. “Go.”
“Like I’d want to stay.” He climbed out the window, eyes shooting daggers at me the whole time. As if I were to blame for his deceit.
No time to lick my wounds. Or to scream. I threw on a long silk skirt I found in the bottom of a drawer, squeezed my tired feet back into my heels, and checked my little inkwell. A small fleck of magic had returned, hardly enough to magnify a naturally occurring feeling.
I’d use it to read Dewey’s emotions. Nothing more.
As I called to my magic, sharp talons dragged down my skull. I bit my knuckle to keep the pain at bay, but my overused magic dug deeper, sharper—
His lightstring appeared through the door. Excited. Cautious. A bit wary.
I’d worked with less.
Swallowing the pain, I grabbed the lilies, threw open the door, and batted my lashes at him. “Ready?”
In silence, I led him down the side stairwell to avoid the influx of customers—and Revelles—through the main doors. He held the bottom door for me, and warm, salty air rushed into the hall, so humid I could practically feel my hair frizzing.
To the left, the stone walkway wove between the Fun House and the ocean, disappearing into the fog. If we walked that way, we’d have privacy from the tourists, but any curious Revelle child could eavesdrop from the first-floor windows. The path to the right led back to the front of the Big Tent, where music and shouting blared through the crowded streets, and the dark cliffs of the slumbering Day District blotted out the stars—far from private, but perhaps he’d feel more comfortable in view of the Chronoses’ ritzy neighborhood.
He took my arm as we started down the path to the right. “Miss Revelle—”
“Please. Call me Luxe.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “All right, Luxe. I know we’ve only just met, and there’s a bit of—bad blood, shall we say?—between our families. But I’d like us to be honest with each other.”
If he truly desired honesty, he would have brought Trevor Edwardes, his mind-reading assistant. But he hadn’t. He wanted me to trust him.
“I’d like that, too.”
“Now tell me the truth: you fell by accident, and a Strattori fixed you up.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised; it was clear from how young he looked that he rarely used his magic, which meant he had talents other than time traveling. Perhaps he was clever. A pity. Simpler men were far easier to win over.
“Helen Strattori. She’s a friend of my family.”
He slowed his step to study me. “Using Strattori magic makes you uncomfortable.”
Perceptive, too. “I don’t like when other people make sacrifices for me.”
“I used to feel the same. In my line of work, it’s important that I’m at full capacity at all times. If I spend a week recovering, I lose money, and the people who work for me do, too. Money they depend on to feed their families. It’s better to let them endure my ailments for me so I can better provide for them. I reward them generously, of course. Don’t get me wrong,” he added quickly. “I still don’t like it. I’m just . . . I do think it’s for the best.”
We can’t afford to sideline our star for weeks, Nana had said. “Well, Mr. Chronos, I daresay we have that in common.”
He chuckled, his lightstring flashing with a spark of affection. “Call me Dewey. Now, entertain me for a moment. Our families’ views on our, ah, feud, are probably quite different.”
That was an understatement.
“My family, for example, taught me we came here first. My ancestors felt the pull of magic as they sailed to Ellis Island. They returned by canoe a few days later, and the vortex tides brought them to shore. Does this sound right so far?”
“More or less.” I had no idea what he was trying to accomplish.
“Rumors of the island’s amplification of magic spread, leading other families with magic to immigrate here, too, including yours. As the world grew more wary of magic, this island was one of the few places left where we could live in peace.” An amused smile darkened his features. “I suppose this is where our versions of history differ.”
I kept my face a mask of calm. Sure, my family had arrived after the Chronoses, but we’d won the first election—and several after that. Under my ancestors’ leadership, Charmant’s tourism boomed. Any entrepreneur could find work here, with or without magic. But not everyone loved the bawdy good time the island had become. The Strattoris retreated to the eastern hills, their sacred magic little more than a legend to the tourists. The Chronoses took the seaside cliffs in the north, making careful investments that increased their wealth while hardly setting foot on our beaches. Their candles were snuffed shortly after nightfall while the Big Tent’s parties continued until dawn. Hence, the Day and Night Districts were born.
“To spread the Revelles’ influence, your family changed Charmant’s currency from US dollars to gemstones,” he continued. “But politicians who could manipulate public opinion were practically unstoppable. So my family began pooling their magic together. It’s no secret how we thrive: like a colony of ants, all the workers run themselves ragged in service of their chosen one.” Bitterness punctuated his words. “My great-grandfather was the first Chronos mayor of Charmant. You know the rest.”
What did he expect me to say: The Chronoses had gained power nearly seventy years ago, and they’d never let it go since? They’d sabotaged my family over and over again, each disaster robbing us of our status, our wealth, our security? I nodded. “I know the rest.”
He studied me for a long moment. I held my breath and stared right back.
“You’re not like the Revelle stars of the past,” he finally said. “You’re . . . different.”
Dangerous territory. “What makes you say that?”
“Pockets were being emptied for you tonight. Diamonds were pried from their settings and tossed in your direction.” He stopped walking, the music of Main Street still a good distance away. “You’re more powerful than the others.”
He was edging too close to the truth. “I can make the gems last a little longer, yes.”
“That wasn’t what I said.” His tone remained curious, even amused.
I leaned closer, inhaling the rich spices of his cologne. “Would you like to trade secrets, Mr. Chronos? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
“I would like that very much, Miss Revelle.” His smile made him even younger. The kid bootlegger, Uncle Wolffe had called him. Rich and successful without time traveling often enough to wrinkle. “How about the fainting? Does that happen often?”
I’d risk overusing my dwindling magic before I let him think of me as weak. “Fortunately, no. I hadn’t had enough to eat earlier. First-night jitters.”
A strange disappointment seeped into his lightstring, gone as quickly as it had appeared. “You know, I had to seek the services of a Strattori tonight, too.”
“Oh? What happened?”
“I tried to catch a falling star.”
Catch a falling—a gasp escaped me. “I landed on you?”
The dim light of distant Main Street revealed his faint blush. “Technically, I caught you, and we crashed into a portly gentleman. He’s fine, by the way. I paid for his healing as well.”
Seven hells. I hadn’t even considered the tourists I’d hurt. And I’d fallen on Dewey Chronos—my mark, of all people. What were the odds?
Next to none.
“Did you travel for me?” I could hardly believe the words I uttered.
With a cryptic smile, he nodded.
Chronoses didn’t use their magic to help others, and they certainly didn’t use it to help us. “I don’t know what to say. If you hadn’t been there—”
He winced, which was all the answer I needed. However I’d first fallen, before Dewey traveled . . . I owed him my life.
“I didn’t come here for your gratitude. I came here to make a deal.”
My heart thumped within my chest. It was now or never. “A liquor deal?”
He fixed his silk tie. “Perhaps. If you agree to my terms.”
I leaned into his lightstring, my pitiful magic protesting with a sharp bite of pain in my skull, so abrupt and so brutal, I nearly cried out. You’re feeling generous, I whispered down his lightstring, extremely generous.
“You’re a talented young woman, Miss Revelle, but you need to dream bigger. Picture this.” He spread his arms wide, moonlight capturing the excitement in his eyes. “A new leader of Charmant, one who can stop my family from meddling in your family’s business so everyone on the island has the opportunity to prosper. What do you think?”
“Sounds like you’ve had one too many Effigen cocktails.”
He laughed, a deep, throaty sound. “My family has gone too far in their quest to keep your family weak. Revelle children wither away all winter long, while Chronos children throw away more food than they eat. It’s time for a regime change, don’t you think?”
But there was no beating a Chronos, not when they controlled the police, the banks, even time itself. “Pray, tell me: Who is this mystery candidate willing to take on your family?”
He leaned closer, his lips spreading in that devilish smile again. “Me.”
The little bit of hope I’d foolishly mustered blew away like glitter on a breeze. Of course. A Chronos replaced by another Chronos. “Aren’t you a little young to be mayor?”
“I’m twenty-one.” He tugged on the lapels of his vest. “It’s unconventional, yes, but won’t people be more likely to trust a Chronos without wrinkles? One who doesn’t abuse his magic?”
“To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure Night citizens can tell one Chronos from another.”
He frowned. “I’m different from my family. I’ve lived in the Night District for two years now. It’s my home. Everyone who works for me receives a fare wage, and I only travel to protect my investments. Even that’s rare, as you can see.” He flashed that youthful smile again, holding it until I cracked one of my own.
“With Prohibition,” he continued, “we still need a time traveler in charge to prevent any surprises from the mainland police. Now, I’m no fool; I know most of the Night hates my family. But my liquor keeps the tourists happy and businesses open. My company employs more than a third of Night District citizens. If I had more time, I could win them all over, but my father just announced a special election in August, four weeks from now. He’s stepping down and has endorsed my brother to take his place. George’s candidacy is uncontested, of course.”
There was that anger again, gathering in his lightstring like shadows at dusk. Jealousy, too. So the rumors were true: his father had skipped over Dewey and chosen George as his successor. And now Dewey wanted to take them all down.
“And let me guess,” I said slowly. “You want my family to endorse you.”
“I want you to endorse me.”
The lilies in my hands suddenly felt too heavy, their sweet aroma too pungent. “I see.”
“You’re the most celebrated face in the Night. If you supported me publicly, we’d have a real chance at beating my brother.”
“Which your family would never allow,” I reminded him. “Like you said, they pool their magic together. What’s one time traveler versus dozens?” Dewey would have to travel so much to keep them in check, he’d be old and feeble before the election ever happened.
“There are more Chronoses sympathetic to our cause than you think. My sister, for example, has spent the last three years traveling the country with your cousin Roger.”
Roger had been traveling with a Chronos?
He fiddled with the rim of his hat. “These are my terms, Miss Revelle: You endorse me for mayor, and I’ll sell your uncle all the liquor the Big Tent needs. For cheap.”
There it was. Exactly what we needed, dangling right in front of me like a heavy diamond pendant. All I needed to do was reach out and grab it.
But I’d already been fooled by a handsome face tonight. Already heard empty promises of all the liquor in the world.
“If I helped you,” I said carefully, “I’d be painting a big sparkling bull’s-eye on my back. Your family would make sure I suffered some fatal ‘accident’ long before the election.”
His face darkened. “I’d never let anything happen to you. Even if I have to become old and gray long before my time, I promise: no one will lay a finger on you.”
More promises, though his lightstring shone with surprising loyalty. He’d already saved my life once. But even if he could keep me safe, he couldn’t keep all of us safe. And once the election was over, what was to stop him from raising his prices again?
“So I risk your family’s wrath, not to mention my family’s wrath, and we get discounted booze. But you get to become mayor? Hardly seems fair.”
“You’ll have a mayor of Charmant indebted to you. Your family will prosper again.”
Such pretty words. I was so tired of pretty words.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Chronos.” I held out the lilies for him to take. “As badly as we need hooch, I won’t put my family at risk for a coupon.”
He didn’t take the lilies, but he let me walk away, though his lightstring brimmed with frustration. He needed me just as much as I needed him.
Two steps. Three. Four. Uncle Wolffe would have my head if I actually walked away.
“Name your price,” Dewey called.
The night hid my smile.
Slowly, I turned, letting the slit of the long skirt ride up my leg. His eyes grazed over me. Beneath the caution in his lightstring, red began to take root. Lust.
“The old warehouse by the docks. You bought it.”
The strangeness of his new theater had prickled the back of my mind since Uncle Wolffe had spoken of it earlier. Dewey was too clever to try to outdo us. The tourists would accept nothing less than our magic-infused spectacles and the Fun House fantasies that followed, and he knew it.
Sure enough, no surprise flashed in his lightstring, only excitement. “What about it?”
“I want it.”
His lips quirked. “Why?”
Because Dewey was right; too many Revelle children went hungry all winter. The Big Tent’s dilapidated canvas was no match for the frigid autumn winds, and the ferries were too blisteringly cold for the tourists to trek here only to freeze at our show. By mid-September, tourism slowed to a crawl. To survive the long winters, we had to stretch our summer gems.
But if we had a place to perform with thick walls and a roaring fire . . .
Decadent winter leotards draped with fur. Snow-kissed wreaths. My family with meat on their bones all year long. The Big Tent would always be the heart of the Night, but an additional winter theater, where Prohibition was a faraway nuisance? Freezing ferry or not, the customers would come in droves.
“In addition to liquor at half price, we could use another place to perform in the winters.”
He arched a brow. “I’ve already started to turn it into a performance center of my own.”
What good was a theater to a bootlegger? His fleet of ferries made sense; they helped transport liquor as well as tourists to drink it. And another warehouse could store his booze, sure. But a theater, especially one without Revelles? Maybe this was what he’d wanted all along.
“That should make this easy,” I said lightly, studying him from beneath my lashes.
He laughed. “I knew we were going to get along splendidly.”
“So we have a deal?” The pitch in my voice betrayed my desperation. You wish to make a deal, I whispered down his lightstring. Pain radiated down my head, my ears buzzing loud enough for me to wobble on my feet.
He stepped closer. “I give you an expensive piece of prime real estate, plus liquor—for half price—and you say a few words lending me your support? I think we’ve swung too far in your favor, don’t you?”
“I quite like where we’ve landed.”
“I bet you do.” He stepped even closer, his chest nearly grazing mine. “I’ll lease it for a share of the profits, but you need to do more than endorse me.”
My pulse quickened. For the second time tonight, I was inches from an attractive young man offering me everything my family needed. But this time, I would keep my wits about me. This time, I’d get it. “What do you have in mind?”
“If I’m going to be king of the Night District,” he said quietly, “then I need a queen.”
I didn’t dare move, not as he lifted his hand to my cheek, angling my face toward his.
“I want you by my side during all my public appearances. Shake hands, kiss babies, everything. Let everyone believe the Revelle star has fallen in love with the bootlegger. And if anyone happens to give you a jewel, I want you to charm them into voting for me.” His thumb caressed my chin. “Once the election is over, we can stage a breakup, if you’d like.”
A ruse. A prolonged performance. “Interesting proposition.”
“Do we have a deal?” He kept his hand on my chin, so close to where the other Dewey had so reverently touched my cheek— No. No thinking about that disaster yet, not when I was so close to getting everything we needed.
Liquor. A winter theater. The chance of a mayor sympathetic to the Revelles—still a Chronos, but better than George and his vicious temper. Maybe, just maybe, we stood a chance.
“No Revelles get hurt.” I kept my gaze trained on those clever brown eyes. “If something happens to anyone in my family, the deal’s off.”
“No Revelle gets hurt,” he agreed. “I’ll make sure of it.”
He could, too. With his magic, he could literally rewind time to prevent disaster. He’d done it tonight. For me.
“So we have a deal?”
Nana might murder me for making a deal with the devil, but Uncle Wolffe would understand. “If my uncle approves, I’m in.”
“I have it on good authority he’ll agree.”
“It’s settled, then.”
“Excellent.” He stepped back, clasping his hands together. “Four weeks isn’t much time to win an election, so we’ll need to start campaigning immediately. To announce my bid, I’m throwing an enormous party for celebrities, politicians, and all my donors. Every magical family will be invited. Except mine, of course, though they’ll wish they were.” He laughed darkly, two rows of straight teeth glistening in the moonlight.
“Sounds divine.” I was tempted to dig into my magic, to carve away the hurt that flashed whenever he mentioned his family, but the pounding in my head was a jackhammer, and I had little left to keep me upright.
He took my hand and pressed a kiss to it, letting his lips linger there. “We’re going to be unstoppable, the two of us. You’ll see.”
With a tip of his hat, he walked away, whistling to himself as he strutted toward the bright lights of Main Street. How bold he must feel all the time, never looking over his shoulder, knowing he could turn back time if someone came for him. How bold indeed.
I turned back toward home, but— Whoa. My legs wobbled as the world tilted, the night’s heat suddenly burning me up. Gripping my head, I released his lightstring as slowly as I could, the pain easing until he turned the corner and I let it go completely.
The pain faded as I stumbled off the walkway, kicked off my shoes, and let myself fall into the soft sand. A warm, wet drop slid from my nostril—a bloody nose. My magic’s tax for the possibilities now dangling before me.
Liquor. A heated theater. A partnership with a Chronos. Protection from his family.
Year-round income. No more starving winters.
All I had to do was be his queen.
