Revelle
: Chapter 21

“Luxe?”

Someone dared to pull the sheet off my bed. With a groan, I wrestled it over me once again.

“Get up, my sweet. Rise and shine.”

The last thing I wanted to do was rise or shine, no matter how irritated Dewey sounded.

Seven hells. Dewey.

I threw the sheet off to replace my very rich, very peeved benefactor standing in my very messy bedroom. His scowl made him look even older. Would I ever get used to this face of his?

“Late night, I see.” His forced smile strained at the corners.

I blinked at him innocently. “My cousins and I might have had a little too much fun.”

“Just you and your cousins?”

Damnit. I’d overslept, and he’d turned into a jealous mess yet again. If I tapped into my little inkwell, he’d see the onset of my pain. He might even grow suspicious.

“Just us. And Trevor, of course.” I smiled shyly, pulling the sheet to my chin. “Might I have a moment to freshen up?”

He kicked a stray piece of clothing off his shoe. “Was Jamison there?”

“Oh, that’s right. He’s with Roger so much, I counted him as a cousin.”

His frown only deepened.

I rose, my hair a mess, my nightgown unwashed. It would have to do. Swallowing the caustic taste of my own breath, I cracked a smile. “I missed you. Give me a moment to freshen up, and we’ll have breakfast.”

“Breakfast was hours ago. You slept right through it, along with three interviews I’d scheduled for us. Your afternoon dress rehearsal begins in thirty minutes. You do remember the election is tomorrow, don’t you?” He glanced at his watch, his mouth tightening to a thin line. “I’ll wait outside.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, I gripped the bedpost and tapped into my inkwell.

The swift pain, plus the hangover—I lowered myself to the bed, squeezing my head as I fought the urge to let go of the swelling, churning magic, the pressure cresting, bursting . . .

Finally, I opened my eyes, my mind adjusting to the barbed thing flailing against it. Dewey’s lightstring was easy to replace: a dark, jealous blight just outside my door. Damnit. I should have monitored him more closely, should never have slept in.

Last night had been incredible, but this was the cost.

I leaned against the bedpost, my head spinning as I coaxed away each of his negative feelings. You trust me. You’re happy with me, and I’m happy with you.

Lies, lies, and more lies. I was going to whisper lies down his lightstring for eternity.

Step one, get Dewey to give me a damn jewel. Step two, figure out the rest.

Once Dewey’s lightstring was calm, I slipped on my rehearsal attire and pulled my hair into a big, bushy bun. The leotard must have stretched in the wash, because it hung loose on my hips. You replace me attractive, I whispered down Dewey’s lightstring. Judging how he’d looked at me when I’d awoken, that was a lie, too.

I checked myself in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the door. Beneath my nose was slick with blood. I hadn’t even felt it. As soon as I got that jewel, I’d let my body rest.

Once I cleaned my face and brushed my teeth, I swung open the door and greeted Dewey with a big smile. “Shall we?”

His lightstring calmed as I infused it with contentment. The halls were crowded with Revelles getting ready, but he hardly noticed them glaring at us. He never should have entered our personal chambers. My bedroom. He was growing bolder.

“Are you staying for rehearsals?” I asked lightly.

His lightstring surged with frustration. “I have the boat cruise, remember?”

Whoops. For Dewey’s second-to-last day of campaigning, he’d found a way to advertise his new fleet of heated ferries. During a round-trip cruise to Manhattan, he’d rub elbows with his most generous campaign contributors: business moguls from New York with summer homes in Charmant and a vested interest in being on the bootlegger’s good side. The press was invited, too, of course, along with one hundred lucky constituents.

“Of course.” I squeezed his arm. “We’ll meet for the event on the promenade after?”

Our schedule is a priority for me. You are a priority for me.

“I’m already looking forward to it.” He leaned closer. “Have you given more thought to my proposal?”

Amorous maroon tinged his lightstring, but mostly, it was a steely, determined gray. I sharpened my smile. “Have you given more thought to filling that setting with a diamond?”

“If people think you have control over me, they’ll lose faith in my ability to govern fairly.” He checked his watch. “I have to go. I’m meeting Roger by the ferry.”

“Roger’s going with you?” I couldn’t hide my surprise.

“I asked him to represent the Revelles, since you’re busy rehearsing.”

He wouldn’t hurt Roger, would he? I wouldn’t be able to charm him all the way in New York. “How thoughtful.”

He patted my arm. “If we’re going to marry, I need to get to know more of your family. Especially since Roger’s leaving in a few days.”

I tripped over the top stair. “He’s leaving?”

“He and Jamison have some orchard job they do every fall. Trysta, too, though field work is unsuitable for a Chronos.” Dewey studied me, his brow creasing.

They were leaving. All three of them. And soon.

I’m unbothered by their departure. You are my focus.

“I have to go, my sweet. I’ll see you after tonight’s show.” He brushed his lips to mine as if he’d done it thousands of times. A familiar kiss from a stranger’s mouth.

In the mess hall, Millie’s forehead was pressed against the kitchen table. I perched beside her, my palms scraping the worn wood. “That smells delicious.”

She startled, spilling her coffee. I grabbed a rag to soak it up.

“Good, you slept later than me for once.” She rubbed her eyes. “I can’t believe we have to perform trapeze like this.”

“I can’t believe we let Roger convince us to stay out all night.”

“The night isn’t the problem; it’s your boyfriend Dewey’s insistence on daytime rehearsals that’s killing me.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said, a little too sharply.

An easy smile settled on her lips. “I know. Just making sure you do.”

My entire body ached as I took the seat beside her. Dewey’s lightstring rumbled with displeasure as he stepped farther away from the Big Tent, and I sent a dash of happiness down it.

“Are you wearing my leotard? You’re swimming in it.”

I pulled at the loose fabric. “It’s just old, I think.”

Millie stifled a yawn. “Last night was fun.”

“It looked like you and Trevor had a good time,” I said casually.

Her smile softened. “He asked if he could ‘call on’ me. How sweet is that?”

“Mildred Revelle, are you blushing?” I pressed the back of my hand to her cheek. “I believe you are!”

“Would it be insane of me to go out with an Edwardian?”

“Far saner than what I’m doing. Or Colette, for that matter.”

Millie sipped her coffee. “She keeps pretending it’s just for fun, with Trys leaving soon, but I know better.”

Apparently, I was the last to know of their plans to go. “When exactly are they leaving?”

“Why don’t you ask Jamison yourself?”

“He’s here?” I scanned the empty mess hall, as if I had somehow missed his tall self.

“Who else do you think brought good coffee from Sweet Buns?” She nodded toward the hall. “Last I saw, he was visiting Nana.”

To talk about his parents again, I’d bet. I gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “I’ll see you in the rafters.”

With a groan, she rested her forehead on the table again. “Don’t remind me.”

Sure enough, Jamison stood at the end of the hall with Nana, both of their lightstrings as purple as the Big Tent’s stripes. Grief.

As I approached, Nana swiped at her eyes. “Morning, my sleepy girl. Rehearsal starts in twenty.”

“Are you all right?”

“Perfectly fine. Where’s Dewey?” With her back turned, Nana couldn’t have seen Jamison’s smile falter. And he couldn’t have seen the glisten in her eye.

As if I needed her to stir up trouble for me. “Uncle Wolffe’s looking for you,” I lied.

She gave me a knowing look, but her smile was sincere when she turned back to Jamison. “You come visit me whenever you like, you hear?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Revelle. That means the world to me.”

“Please, call me Nana.” She opened her arms for a hug, and he slipped into them, crouching slightly so he didn’t tower over her. He was so thoughtful, even in how he hugged. So kind, even though his lightstring tinged the tiniest bit green with envy around my enormous family. For a fleeting moment, I let myself picture how gently he’d hug Nana as she grew older. I pictured him being a permanent part of all this. The Big Tent. Our life.

Nana winked as she sashayed past me. Once she rounded the corner, I turned back to Jamison. “What were you two talking about?”

“My parents.” He ran a hand over his hair, ruining whatever he’d used to tame it this morning. “I didn’t want her to feel bad for not telling me about them herself.”

“Nana hasn’t felt bad about anything in decades.”

He didn’t crack a smile. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

I had rehearsal, but I wouldn’t make him wait, not when he was finally ready to tell me. Not when he was hurting. “Follow me.”

Jamison had to duck under the doorframe of the next hall to avoid smacking the top of his head. “Are you staying to watch the dress rehearsal?” I asked, keeping my tone light. Foolishly, I didn’t want his visit to be a quick one, especially during a rare, Dewey-free day.

“Your grandmother invited me. Last one, right?”

“Last one here. Then one final run-through tomorrow in the new theater. And then it’s showtime.” I stole a glance up at him. “I hear you’re leaving.”

His step faltered. “Trys wants to stay for the election, but we’ll leave right afterward. That’s the plan, at least.”

He didn’t want to leave. Worse, I didn’t want him to go. “So two more days.”

He stopped walking, those bright eyes searching. “That’s right.”

Don’t go. It took everything I had to suppress the selfish thought as we stared at each other in the empty hall, the humid air in the Big Tent heating by the second.

I pasted on a bright smile. “You’ve got a job lined up, and I’ve got a winter theater with my name on the marquee. We’ll both be swimming in gems! Or dollars, I presume.”

Before he could utter another word, I pushed open my bedroom door.

Colette sat on the bed, her tight curls freed from her usual elaborate updo, her skirt hiked up to her waist. Two lipstick-stained mugs sat on the night table.

“What is it?” Jamison asked behind me.

“Shh!” I tiptoed backward.

Colette’s graceful footsteps creaked the floorboards. “Trys?”

I pulled Jamison’s arm and yanked him through the next door, a small linen closet. He opened his mouth, but I pressed my palm over it.

Colette’s feet padded just outside, and we both froze.

Jamison exhaled against my palm, his breath warm. Heat radiated from each point where our bodies pressed against each other in the narrow closet. His knees leaning on my thighs. His lips beneath my hand.

In a few days, he’d be gone.

I removed my hand from his mouth, letting it trail down his cheek. He watched its path with haunted eyes.

Neither of us dared move.

Gone was the darkness in his lightstring, replaced by something brighter. Something smoldering. His hands found my waist, and my heart quickened.

That first kiss, we’d been strangers. Now I knew him. I knew how he nagged Roger about taking sips of water when they’d been drinking, how his first instinct was to throw a punch when someone insulted his friends, no matter how futile the fight. How he turned lemons into cleaning solution and panicked each time we let go of the trapeze.

I couldn’t help myself—I let my hand graze his hair. Soft and thick, just as I remembered.

His gaze drifted to my lips, then back to my eyes. He wasn’t jumping away this time. Neither of us was any good at self-preservation.

A force as natural as gravity pulled me closer, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, lifting onto my tippy-toes. A torturous inch remained between my mouth and his. I hovered there, fighting the selfish urge to close that gap.

Trevor would know. And if Dewey asked, Trevor would be forced to tell him. Dewey’s jealousy would shatter his fragile ego, unleashing the cruel streak he kept hidden beneath his polished exterior. Dewey had made all his bootlegging competition disappear. What would he do if he viewed Jamison as competition for me?

And even if we managed to keep it a secret, Jamison would have to watch me dote on Dewey. Touch Dewey. Look at Dewey like Jamison looked at me right now: like I was the sun and the moon and all the stars. Anything to get Dewey to give me a jewel.

“I’m glad you have a job lined up.” I almost sounded like I meant it.

His heart beat rapidly against my chest. “There are always other jobs. Here, on Charmant.”

Stay, I longed to say. It took everything I had not to pull him closer. “What about Roger and Trys?”

“I don’t think either of them is ready to leave, though they won’t admit it.”

Stay.

But . . . Dewey. The election.

Summoning all the strength I could muster, I forced myself to step into the mercifully empty hallway. As Jamison emerged, I turned away, not wanting to see the hurt seeping into his lightstring. He deserved better.

“This is Trys’s watch.” He bent to pick it up off the floor, then held out the crushed glass face. A folded note dangled from the platinum cuff.

I snatched it. Thick, creamy paper, sealed with a black wax symbol: a clock.

My blood turned to ice.

We always win.

“Fire! Fire!” a child’s voice yelled.

Jamison shouted something, but he might as well have been speaking a different language.

The Chronoses had struck again.