A Rivalry of Hearts

Chapter 9

It only takes a few hours to reach the border between the Wind Court and the Solar Court, where our next destination lies. I keep my gaze locked on the window as rainy windswept plains shift into rolling hillsides. Sunlight casts the landscape beneath a distinctly golden hue, the soft brilliance that comes before sunset, even though sundown is still hours away. It’s breathtaking to glimpse such a sudden change in the environment. My brochure mentioned every court has its own climate and terrain, but I never imagined the distinctions would be so perceptible.

Soon the verdant hillsides become dotted with cream stucco buildings with terracotta roofs. The farther we go, the more plentiful the buildings become until the outskirts of a city begin to form. I catch sight of clustered townhouses, storefronts, canals, and stunning cathedrals before our train pulls into the station. I’m brimming with excitement as we prepare to disembark.

Jolene links her arm with mine. “I’ve never been to the Solar Court.”

I’m surprised that someone who’s lived in Faerwyvae her whole life hasn’t visited the next court over. It makes me feel less alone in this new experience.

We emerge onto the platform and some of my excitement abates. Oppressive heat surrounds me, an unwelcome thing considering my long-sleeved jacket and heavy skirts. I noticed our compartment growing warmer as the train wove through the countryside, but I didn’t anticipate it would be this hot outside.

Jolene drops my arm and immediately sets to fanning herself with her hand. “Oh. Oh, this is too much.”

“Tell me about it,” Daphne says, emerging behind us. She scampers to me and takes refuge in the shade my skirts provide. “At least you can remove your warm layers. I’m stuck in this fur coat.”

A thought occurs to me. “Do you not have a seelie form? Are you unable to shift into a humanoid body?”

She doesn’t answer right away, and when she does, her voice is almost too quiet to hear. “I prefer not to.”

“This is perfect.”

I turn at the sound of Monty’s voice. He steps onto the platform, face tilted toward the sun, eyes closed. His blond hair practically sparkles under the golden light of the Solar Court, and unlike me and Jolene, he’s dressed for the weather. His shirtsleeves are rolled up, his waistcoat open. He wears lightweight linen trousers cuffed at the ankles to reveal his leather loafers, sans socks.

My breath catches as a figure emerges behind him. William is dressed like Monty with a similar style of cuffed cream trousers and bare ankles above pointed Oxfords. But where Monty wears his waistcoat open, William has abandoned his waistcoat entirely and wears a thin blue linen shirt unbuttoned to the center of his chest.

A chest I had in plain sight this morning.

Another flush of heat washes over me, and only some of it is from the sun.

William meets my eyes, a wry smile on his lips. “Feeling a little hot, Weenie?”

I avert my gaze and address Monty. “I didn’t expect it to be so warm.”

“I apologize,” he says. “I should have prepared you. Thankfully, the university isn’t far from here.”

“University?”

He nods. “Your next signing is at the Hyperion University Library, and we’ll be staying in the dormitory while we’re there. We’ll hail a coach there now. I’ve already arranged for our luggage to be transported separately.”

I frown. Once again I’m separated from my luggage when I need it most. I angle my thumb back toward the train. “Can’t I just fetch a blouse?—”

“Just remove your jacket,” Jolene says, bumping her shoulder into mine. With a wide smile, she unbuttons the pearl closures at her wrists and neck, then proceeds to roll up her sleeves and open her collar. Watching a woman dress down like this would be a scandalous sight in Bretton, but as the other passengers disembark, many do the same, even the women. And those not dressing down are already wearing attire better suited to the heat. A group of young women nearby wear sleeveless white dresses, their shoulders bare for all to see, their ankles and lower calves visible.

I could weep with jealousy, but if I remove my top as Jolene suggested, I’ll be left in my chemise. My very corset-less chemise.

The very thought has my cheeks heating until a tall female fae with long black hair and curves to die of envy for strolls by, her skirt a confection of cotton ruffles, her top a wisp of almost see-through linen. And she is very much not wearing a corset.

If she can wear a flimsy top with such confidence, surely I can too? My breasts, being far less impressive than the fae woman’s, wouldn’t even stand out that much. I can bear a little social discomfort for the sake of preventing heatstroke, can’t I?

“Come along,” Monty says, oblivious to my internal conflict. He lights a cigarillo and perches it between his lips. “We’ll find our coach on Lonan Street.”

He and William start off, Daphne darting just behind. One step after them is all that convinces me I’ll perish if I don’t find relief.

With a huff, Jolene takes my carpet bag from my hand. “Take off your jacket already.”

I give her a grateful smile and unbutton my top as we walk. Once freed from my heavy outer layer, I take back my carpet bag and stuff my jacket inside. I give Jolene a questioning glance.

She studies me, then tugs the sleeves of my chemise down my arms until both sides slouch off my shoulders. In turn, my neckline dips lower, baring a dash of cleavage. “Much better.”

“Are you sure?” I mutter, resisting the urge to curl forward.

“I work at a modiste, remember? Trust me on fashion, Edwina.”

Something softens in my chest. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Jolene last night. While I enjoyed talking to her, especially when she gushed about my books, I felt a little betrayed when she left me to hang all over William. But now I appreciate her companionship. I’ve never had a close female friend before—or any friends, really, unless you count imaginary ones—so these kinds of interactions are new.

We exit the station on Lonan Street, where a line of coaches stretches from here to the next avenue.

“This way,” Monty says, gesturing toward one of the coaches. Neither he nor William has turned around, so I have yet to see if either will react to my state of undress.

When we arrive at our vehicle, the coachman takes Jolene’s and my bags. Monty insists on helping him tuck them into the storage compartment at the back of the coach, probably just to steal extra time enjoying his cigarillo. This leaves William to play the role of gentleman and aid us into the coach. Daphne hops inside at once. William waits outside the door, posture slouched, hand extended.

Jolene accepts his aid with a flutter of her lashes. “You’re too kind, Mr. Haywood.”

The smile he gives her makes my lips curl into a snarl. Does he never stop flirting? I step up to him next with my head held high. He sucks in a breath as his gaze falls on me for the first time since we set off for the coach. His posture goes rigid as his eyes fall on the expanse of skin I’ve exposed above the neck of my chemise, then trail over my bare shoulders.

Everything inside me begs to curl forward and shrink from his scrutiny. Before I can do anything, his blue irises flick back to mine, his cheeks flushing pink.

I’m so surprised by the color rising in his face that I can only blink back at him for several beats.

Understanding dawns.

I made him flustered.

My urge to shrink in on myself dissolves. No, I will not make myself smaller before my rival. In demonstration of my resolve, I straighten my posture and lift my chest higher, accentuating the subtle peaks I’ve put on display. His throat bobs. Holding his eyes, I place my palm over his hand and take my time entering the coach.