A Rivalry of Hearts

Chapter 38

I’m going to miss the gala.

Night falls outside the window of the bedroom where Cassie rests. She’s been sleeping for hours now, and I can’t bring myself to leave her, despite her insistence that she was fine before she retired to her bed.

I understand William’s protectiveness over her even more now. It was terrifying to watch as Cassie’s slender body went limp. Luckily, I eased her fall and she wasn’t injured. She even regained consciousness quickly and gave me the address to the house where she’s staying. With my aid, we hailed a hansom cab, and I handed her into the care of her friends. They echoed Cassie’s assurances that this wasn’t the most unusual thing for her and that she’d be better after some rest.

I believe them, but I can’t leave her. How could I? William would be furious if he knew I left her while she was still recovering. I’m already half convinced he’ll rage at me for agreeing to keep her fainting spell a secret until she can tell him herself. It’s a vow I’m coming very close to breaking, though I understand Cassie’s reasoning. She doesn’t want him to miss the gala either and refused to lie down until I agreed not to send word to him.

Though I never promised I’d leave her myself.

The room, at least, is comfortable for Cassie. It’s a large guest suite in a grand manor at the edge of town, just a ten-minute coach ride from the café we dined at. Her friends have come in to check on her periodically and have laid out a tray of tea, cookies, and Cassie’s next dose of medicines. She truly does seem to be in the best of care. Her friends dote on her as deeply as William does.

Just in a far less overbearing manner.

When Cassie finally wakes, I rush to her side.

“What are you still doing here?” she asks, her voice thick with sleep.

I aid her into a seated position. “I had to ensure you were well when you awoke.”

She reaches around me for one of her remedies, waving me away when I offer my help. “You really didn’t have to,” she says as she administers several drops of a tincture into her teacup. “I told you I’d be fine after a couple of hours of rest. It was just a dizzy spell. It happens.”

“Regardless, I wanted to wait until you awoke.”

She takes a sip of her tea, eying me over her teacup. “Are you sure you’re not procrastinating over a certain conversation you should have with a certain individual?”

“No,” I say, and I mean it with all my heart. “I’m ready to talk to William, but I wouldn’t feel right pouring my heart out while keeping a secret from him. I understand why you don’t want to worry him, but I needed to see for myself that you’re well.”

She shakes her head, a mixture of amusement and annoyance on her face. “If I knew this would happen, I would have let you send word to him after all. Then at least you could miss the gala together. He’s probably worried sick about both of us.”

A hollow pit opens in my stomach, and I need to voice it. “There’s something I want to say to you, Cassie, but it might not be my place.”

She sets down her teacup and pours herself a teaspoon of her next medicine. Her eyes narrow slightly, but she gives a resigned sigh. “If you love my brother, you might as well be family. And if you’re family, then it is your place to speak.”

Her mention of love has my stomach flipping and fluttering all over again, but I focus on what I need to get off my chest. “Please don’t hide your troubles from William. Let him see you’re dealing with them. Let him know when you struggle and how you recover with the aid of your friends. Let him truly see that you’re thriving. Not to convince him you don’t need him but to show him he isn’t missing out on anything. He isn’t going to be surprised by a sudden tragedy. Let him feel like he’s with you every step of the way, even when you’re apart.”

Cassie doesn’t meet my eyes. “Is this about what my mother did?”

“I know she meant well,” I say, voice gentle. “She wanted William to enjoy his university years, the same way you want him to enjoy his life without constantly worrying about you. But I can’t imagine how hurt he was to find out he’d been left out of Lydia’s struggles, and I’m sure there’s a part of him that thinks the same is happening with you. He should have been given a choice back then, so let him have a choice with you from now on.”

Her expression turns wary.

I level a knowing look. “Even if his fretting and fussing is unbearable.”

She lets out a small laugh at that. “Fine. I understand what you’re saying. I’ll…do my best to give him a choice.”

Relief uncoils inside me. “Thank you.”

“But I also have a choice over whether I accept his—or anyone’s—fretting in person. And I’m making that choice now. Please go to the gala. I really am all right.”

“You are, aren’t you?” I study her clear eyes, the color that has returned to her cheeks.

“Go,” she says with a shooing motion. “Don’t you want to sabotage his date?”

A shock of panic sweeps through me. I forgot about his date again! My anxieties regarding our relationship and future have lessened, and I no longer carry a fear that his auctioned date could turn romantic.

But still.

I give Cassie a wicked grin. “I most certainly do want to sabotage his date.”

I’ma ball of fraying nerves on my way back to the hotel. The coach ride takes twice as long as it did to get Cassie from the café to the manor, due to all the traffic heading toward the hotel. Even though the gala started almost an hour ago, guests are still arriving. Only once I exit the coach do I realize just how underdressed I am. Figures in evening gowns or frock coats stream toward the front doors. Meanwhile I’m still in my much plainer day dress.

“There you are!”

I recognize the voice before I locate its source. Then a woman with short black hair strides up to me, and I find Daphne’s seelie form. She’s outfitted in the same dress she wore when I last saw her in this body—the yellow silk gown with pink-and-white flowers she got from Zane. Her ruffled hem lands just above her knees, and her legs are covered in white stockings. Her feet are tucked into matching dancing slippers, also from Zane’s closet.

She looks adorable and just a touch scandalous, thanks to her short hem. I’m almost of a mind to warn her when a female fae strolls by in a skirt even shorter than Daphne’s and a top that barely covers her breasts. Even though most of the guests I’ve seen so far seem to favor more modest human fashions, this is still a fae event, and fae fashions are far more varied.

“You look lovely,” I say to her.

She grimaces. “I’m going to try to dance. But forget about me. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Where have you been? Your auction starts in fifteen minutes. Where is the personalized book you said you were going to donate?”

The blood leaves my face. “I…uh…”

Daphne shoves me toward the front doors. “We need to hurry, and you need to get dressed.”

As much as I want to find William at once, I do have a commitment to fulfill; a donation item to select. I can spare ten minutes to get dressed and choose something of value that bidders might like.

We rush past the bodies funneling into the lobby and race to our suite. My heart slams against my ribs as I hurry to change. I never planned tonight’s ensemble so I do the same thing Daphne did and wear the dress I got from Zane—the backless white one William untied and retied in the elevator. I don’t bother doing a thing with my hair and instead put together my donation, carefully tearing written pages out of my notebook and stacking them together, but not before writing out a few final touches on the last page.

Daphne’s impatience is etched over her face by the time I emerge from my room. “Hurry!”

We race back down to the first floor, and my lips curl wider with every step. My heart continues to pound, beating to the rhythm of my hurried pace, my excitement, my hope. I outpace Daphne as the ballroom doors come into view. I rush through them, but an arm comes to my elbow as soon as I’m inside.

“Finally!” Monty rakes a hand through his hair while he pulls me out of the way of the stream of guests entering along with me. “Where have you been? No, first things first. Where is your donation?”

I hand him the stack of papers. He frowns at it, but the expression soon turns into a smirk. He reads the front page. “Fourteen Ways to Die in Faerwyvae: An Illustrated Guide. Are these the kinds of things you’re always scribbling in your notebook?”

“More or less.”

He flips past a few pages, his eyes widening on one. “That’s a rather unfeasible position,” he says of a sketch I drew of two nude figures entangled on a pegasus.

I shrug. “Not all my ideas work out, which is why I sketch them first.”

He flips to the next page. “This one though. This position I guarantee works wonders. I bet Daph would like this sketch. Speaking of…” He lowers my papers and stares at the ground with a frown. “Where is everyone’s favorite feral mustelid? I told her to find you?—”

“I’m right here.” I startle at her voice, still not used to hearing it so close to my ear. With the crowds still pouring into the ballroom, I hadn’t realized she’d come up beside me.

Monty’s eyes go wider than I’ve ever seen. He freezes in place as he stares at her seelie form. “Daph?”

She shrinks down slightly. “Yeah.”

His shocked gaze sweeps down her form, then he stiffens. “Whoa. Legs.”

“Where’s William?” I say, drawing Monty’s attention both for Daphne’s sake and mine.

Monty shakes his head as if to clear it, his cheeks suddenly pink. He aims a thumb toward the stage. “He’s being auctioned off as we speak.”

Urgency propels me away from Monty and Daphne, and I race toward the stage, skirting around the dancers circling on the floor, weaving between chatting figures and those browsing the auction tables. Finally, I catch sight of the stage. A large crowd gathers before it, so dense I could never hope to cut through to the front.

At the very center of the stage is William.