A Rivalry of Hearts

Chapter 31

How can so much change from one night to the next? How can one night be filled with shared secrets, longing glances, and an unraveling of desire when the next is filled with doubt? Fear. Regret. Not that I regret last night with Edwina. Only that I let myself want her so deeply that I lost sight of why I’m here. But I recall my purpose now. I recalled it when I received the letter from my sister this afternoon, and I haven’t gotten it out of my head since. It hammers at the back of my consciousness, even as our next signing begins. Even as I smile and flirt and sign book after book. On the outside, I’m William the Poet. On the inside, I’m a mess.

Tonight’s signing takes place under the open evening sky, on a rooftop above a bookshop on the outskirts of Lumenas. The heart of the city remains a beacon of light, but it’s calmer here, the buildings not so tall. The rooftop terrace hosts a casual atmosphere, with plenty of room to chat and mingle. There’s even a bar for libations. Overhead, strings of glowing orbs crisscross the space, creating a glittering canopy that evokes starlight brought closer.

Edwina and I are on opposite ends of the rooftop, our tables tucked in corners that allow only meager glimpses of her when the crowd parts. Which is for the best. I need to not stare at Edwina tonight. What I need is to get my head on straight.

I finish signing a stack of books for my current guest, and when she leaves, hugging the stack close to her chest as I give her a seductive wink, Zane takes her place. I let my persona slip, which brings a breath of relief.

Zane perches on the corner of my table. There’s no one in line behind them, as the easy mood has resulted in a less formal process. That doesn’t mean it’s been slow. The flow of guests has been steady, and I still get long lines before my table now and then.

“I finally got Edwina to sign a copy of The Governess and the Fae for me,” they say, flourishing the mauve book in their hand.

My pulse quickens at the mere mention of Edwina’s name. I clear my throat to ensure my voice is even as I speak. “I’m sure she would have signed a copy at any time.”

“Perhaps, but I couldn’t support your rival until I was certain you had enough support as well. You know, after your pitiful turnout at the Winter Court signing.”

I snort a laugh. “You were worried about my lack of popularity and thought one book would make a difference?”

“Well, I am your best friend. And I’m happy to see you do, in fact, have fans.”

“I appreciate your vote of confidence,” I say dryly. But they’re right. This signing is far better for me than the last. In fact, for the first time since our tour began, Edwina and I are evenly matched in popularity. Not that I’m surprised. I knew our first two shared signings would be in my favor and that the Winter Court would be in hers. From here on, we may be well-balanced.

“Sooo…” Zane taps their nails anxiously on my table, which tells me I won’t like the subject they’re about to bring up. “What are you going to do?”

“About what?”

“About Edwina. The bet.”

My stomach turns. Another thing I’ve been thinking about all day. Before today, I was enjoying our bet, our free pass. Our game of seduction and sabotage. But Cassie’s letter reminded me of what will happen if I lose our bet. And I’m dangerously close to doing so. I’m already a point behind. We can continue to trade our free pass back and forth, but I’ll never get a point ahead of Edwina. The only way I can is if I gain points with someone who isn’t her.

The thought makes my skin crawl.

“I don’t know,” I say under my breath as I rub my brow.

Just days ago I was confident I could be attracted to someone else, and perhaps that’s true. But something has shifted between us. It may be small, but it’s enough to make the thought of being with anyone else feel like a betrayal. Not just to her but to my heart.

“I don’t want to play this game with her anymore,” I admit.

“Then don’t. Ask her to agree to dissolve the bet. Then tell her how you feel about her.”

“How I feel.” I huff. “I’m not even sure how I feel or if it matters. I need to win this contract, Zane.”

“And you think winning the bet is the best way?”

I shrug. “It’s the surest way. You see how popular she is. I can no longer convince myself I can win at sales.”

“Yes, but can you win this bet? Can you bring yourself to do what you’d have to do?”

My stomach churns again, and Zane knows it. They know all about my downfall as an actor. My inability to perform intimate acts with people I’m not attracted to. Yet the terms of our bet don’t require anything more than a single exchange of physical intimacies. It could be something small. Just a kiss. I’d be forcing myself to do something I don’t truly want to do—the very thing I cautioned Edwina against.

But in turn, I would win the contract.

I could continue to pay off our debts. The mountain of bills we accumulated after Lydia’s death, from the cost of the medical treatment that couldn’t extend her life. The bills that landed firmly in Cassie’s name—not mine—as her only living blood relative.

I could free Cassie from that financial burden for good. Then she could turn all her attention to enjoying life. She could attend college and pursue her dreams. While she still has time.

It’s almost enough to counter the sinking in my heart. Almost.

“You like Edwina,” Zane says. “More than you care to admit.”

“Perhaps,” I confess, “but Cassie’s letter has reminded me how dangerous loving a human can be.”

Zane’s expression falls, their pity so palpable it could stab me straight through the chest. They shift on my table until they’re facing me more fully. “Love, Edwina is not Lydia. Nor is she Cassie.”

“Yet she’s fragile nonetheless,” I say with a sigh. “She deserves someone who won’t break her.”

The story she told me last night, about her past and Dennis fucking Feverforth, should have reminded me of that. Of how badly humans can shatter when others are careless.

It’s more than the fact that humans have naturally short lives. Or that they’re susceptible to illnesses the fae will never experience. Our kind have discovered a miracle—that a human in a close and loving relationship with a fae will experience an increase in lifespan. It’s impossible to know how long, as human-fae couples were nonexistent before the isle’s unification twenty-four years ago. But it’s been proven true thus far.

As has the opposite—that neglect can also impact a human’s lifespan. Negatively.

Zane’s expression hardens. “You are not your father.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Which is why I’m doing everything I can for Cassie.”

“Cassie wouldn’t want?—”

“I made a promise.”

“Did she ask you for that promise?”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. She’s my sister. I’m giving her the life she deserves. The one she’d have had if my father hadn’t failed her mother.”

“You can’t carry that burden forever.”

“No, because Cassie doesn’t have forever.”

Zane opens their mouth but they don’t say a word more. They know I’m right. We’ve had this argument before. No matter how many times Zane has tried to convince me otherwise, the truth remains that Lydia got sick as soon as my father left. She already had a weakened immune system, but his presence in her life made her well. He loved her into perfect health.

Then I went to university, convinced everything would be fine. That my father had outgrown his wandering ways, his playboy nature. That he loved Lydia enough to remain by her side. That he considered Cassie his daughter, even if not by blood, the same way I considered her my sister. That he’d stay.

By the time I returned home after graduation, my father was gone and Lydia was dying. And all I could do was make her flowers. My presence wasn’t enough. Not like my father’s was.

It’s not even enough for Cassie.

Cassie, who is fully human and has the same degenerative disease as Lydia. The same weakened immune system. The same stubbornness.

I can’t extend her life the way a loving romantic fae partner can.

But I can give her the life she deserves. No matter how long or short that ends up being.

Zane heaves a slow breath as they rise from my table. “You were different,” they say, not looking at me.

“When?”

“This week. There was a light in your eyes I haven’t seen in some time. There was love.”

My heart aches at the word love. “Because I forgot what matters most.”

Zane shakes their head, a sad smile on their lips as they turn away from me. “No, I think it’s because you remembered what matters most. I hope you remember again.”

After our signingcomes to an end and the rooftop clears of guests, I hazard a glance at Edwina. I’ve managed to keep my eyes off her the last couple of hours, but now I let my gaze linger, taking in the glow of the orb lights that catch on her fiery hair and the lenses of her spectacles. She finishes packing her leftover books into the spare crates, halting when our eyes meet.

She gives me an uneasy smile. We both received bad news today, and neither of us seems to know how to act with each other. To think how much easier it was last night. Or even this morning, when I grinned at her over my broadsheets and caught the flush of color that swept over her cheeks each time.

I banish the thoughts from my mind and steel myself to do what must be done.

Tucking my hands in my pockets, I stroll to her side of the rooftop, facing the low wall behind her table. She joins me. For several long moments we simply stare at the view—the dark streets below and the bright illumination from the heart of the city beyond.

She breaks the silence first. “It’s peaceful on this side of town, yet still lovely.”

“Yes,” I say, shifting my face to her profile. “Lovely.”

With a soft smile curving her lips, she meets my eyes. I untuck my hands from my pockets, and she glances down at them before sidling slightly closer. As she brings her gaze back to mine, she inches her hand nearer until our pinkies touch. It would only take the slightest movement to grasp her hand in mine like I did last night. Then just another move to kiss her. To voice the words I didn’t have the courage to say out loud last night…

I take a subtle step back. “Edwina.”

She flinches, smoothing her hands over her skirt as if she hadn’t been reaching for me. “Yes?”

“Let’s call off our bet,” I rush to say before I lose my nerve. “Let’s call off the free pass. You and I can’t afford to play this game anymore.”

Her face goes slack as she studies me. Then she narrows her eyes, a cold edge to the smile that was so warm just a moment before. “What happened to please use me soon?”

Just like that, I feel like I’m back in the elevator, her body flush with mine, my cock straining against her backside while I whispered those words. My heart pounds at the memory. I want to tell her she can still use me, to do more than use me. To maybe fall for me the way I’m falling for her. But if she falls, I’ll fall deeper. And if I fall any deeper than I already have, there will be no coming back. I need to come back.

I need to stay here with my feet on the ground, where it’s safe. For both of us.

My voice comes out tight as I relay my next truth. “We can’t keep doing this. Playing a game of seduction and sabotage. It’s been a beautiful and pleasurable distraction, but if we keep at it, I’ll never gain traction. You know I need this win.”

Her expression softens, and for a moment, I think she understands. Then her face shifts into a mask I’ve come to know like the back of my hand. Her belligerent and stubborn pride. She steps back, folding her arms over her chest, as if hiding her heart. “I need this win too. My reasons aren’t any less valid than yours.”

I clench my jaw. It was too much to hope she’d let this be easy. “Either of us can win by sales, Edwina. Don’t you see that now? You’re just as capable of winning Mr. Fletcher’s contract as I am. Let’s dissolve our ridiculous bet already and play fair.”

For several long moments she just stares at me. I hold my breath, silently begging her to see reason.

My hope shatters as she shakes her head. “I can’t risk playing fair. You’re right about us being closer in sales and popularity than I first thought, but it isn’t enough. You still have the advantage of having had this tour all to yourself the first week. I might never be able to make up for what you sold then. I need a sure bet. A win I can control with my own actions.”

Rage and hurt funnel through me. I step closer to her, fingers curled at my sides to keep from touching her. I’m not sure whether I want to hold her or shake her. “Do you understand what that means? What you’re making me do? If you refuse to let me dissolve our bet, I have only one choice. I have to play the game in earnest. Do you want that?”

Her eyes widen, and I can practically see her imagination running wild as understanding dawns.

Good. If it shocks some sense into her, I’ll make it even clearer.

I allow myself to touch her at last, lifting her chin with my thumb and forefinger. My touch remains gentle but my tone holds an edge. “Let me spell it out for you, Weenie. I may be willing to play fair and leave our win up to Mr. Fletcher’s choice, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to roll over and let you win this bet. Push me into a corner and I’ll fight. Refuse to play fair and I’ll play dirty. You want that? You want me to fuck someone else? You want me to do all the things I did to you last night with a stranger?”

Her eyes widen further, her chest heaving.

I brush my thumb over her bottom lip. “You want my touch on someone else’s skin? My lips on someone else’s throat? My fingers coaxing their pleasure? My cock filling them to the brim?”

She shakes her head, a subtle yet jerky motion.

I bring my face close to hers. “Then let me call off our bet.”

She leans slightly closer, her breath mingling with mine.

Fuck, this is dangerous. I didn’t mean to taunt her this way. I was supposed to draw a line between us. Get my head out of the clouds. Remember why loving a human is dangerous. Why I can never be enough. Why my goals for Cassie matter more than my heart. But already I feel myself crumbling at her proximity. Balanced on the precipice over the depths of my heart.

Maybe I can fall.

Maybe we can dissolve this bet and simply see where this goes without the pretense of our free pass. Maybe there’s a chance for something brighter, even if only one of us wins. Maybe?—

“No.” Edwina steps back so abruptly that I freeze in place. She refuses to meet my eyes as she speaks. “No, we can’t call off our bet. I…I need this. I can’t leave it up to chance.”

My heart splinters. Cracks.

Then I force myself to acknowledge this is for the best. She made her choice. The choice I should have made, because she’s right about the bet. It’s the only way either of us can fight for the win with our own efforts.

She steps back again, eyes downcast so I can no longer see them behind the glare over her lenses. Though she can’t hide the quaver in her voice. “Do what you need to do. I will too.”

She turns on her heel to flee. I reach for her, desperate to stop her retreat.

But my sensible side roots my feet in place.

My fingers close over air.