Chapter 17
17
His name, I learn, is Erik.
He introduces himself while I close the door. I can see into his bedroom from the small common room. Yes, I am snooping a little bit, but he’s been in this room with all my things who knows how long without me. His suitcase is open and empty on his bed, his wardrobe full of hanging shirts, jeans, and what looks like costumes.
The contrast between the two of us at this particular moment is tragically humorous.
He glances at me, appearing to notice my disheveled look for the first time. Admittedly, dripping mud and river runoff in uncomfortable athletic shorts, which are not satisfied with riding up my ass and have started pushing into new territory on my thighs, is not how I envisioned meeting my hot roommate. However, I’m not complaining.
“I’m feeling a little overdressed,” Erik comments.
I flush. “I’m sorry. I promise I’m not usually this dirty.”
“Too bad,” he replies.
My mouth drops open. Again—not complaining. The shameless flirting from my catalog-model-worthy new roommate just stuns me.
With the change in my expression, Erik looks guilty. Or, half-guilty. “Sorry,” he says. “Sometimes the Val slips out of me. It’s hard not to stay in character here.” He gestures around our adorned suite. “I actually auditioned to play him in the Experience. Didn’t get the role,” he admits. “Please tell me the guy who did is terrible.”
I hesitate.
Erik reads my expression, his shoulders slumping.
“I’m sure you would have been amazing, though,” I reassure him. “You really…look the part,” I add sincerely.
Erik grins, and I catch more than actorly vanity in his reaction. I decide I like the inexplicable hunk sharing my suite. His enthusiasm is inclusive and infectious. “I hadn’t read the books before my agent sent me to the audition, but I got really into them,” he shares.
I light up. “They’re so good, right? What’s your favorite part?”
“The part of Val!” Erik exclaims like it’s obvious. “It’s, like, an absolute career-maker. I could be the next Sam Heughan.”
I push aside my annoyance at his superficial response. People can enjoy stories for all sorts of reasons, I remind myself. What’s important is he’s excited. We have the coming days for discussion of the Nightfell rescue, and the masquerade, and plenty of other key Val moments.
“I can see you as the next Sam Heughan,” I reply. Again, very honest on my part.
Erik looks genuinely touched. “Thank you for saying that,” he says.
This is the point in the conversation with my inordinately hot roommate when I would usually skitter off into solitude and the comfort of reading, unable to imagine someone like him finding me interesting enough to earn more conversation. Right now, however, I’m covered in mud, standing in the middle of a dorm room. My first impression is what it is.
“So is that why you’re here? To study the character?” I ask Erik with nonchalant interest. Pretend he’s just Val in the dining hall , I remind myself, instead of…your roommate who looks exactly like Val in the dining hall .
Erik smiles. No, grins. No—smirks? “Nah, I’ve got Val on lock,” he assures me. No argument from me. “When I auditioned originally, I was told Heather Winters would be here. I didn’t get to perform in front of her, unfortunately. Who knows who would have gotten the part if I had.”
He chuckles immodestly. I’m into it. Kethryn would be, too.
“Thing is, the Val at the Experience isn’t the only Val,” Erik explains.
He pauses indicatively. I wait.
“If you’re here,” he says slowly, “I’m guessing you’ve heard the TV rumors.”
I gasp a little. Not very coolly, I will admit. Whatever. Yes, of fucking course I’ve heard the TV rumors . They’ve occupied every Elytheum forum, every fan art account, every fandom group chat for the past year since it was announced producers were developing Elytheum Courts for the screen. The sort of mega-adaptation fans know will change our longtime fave into a worldwide franchise.
The aforementioned rumors have followed every stage of development. First the addition of an in-demand showrunner after her Star Wars miniseries exceeded commercial expectations and earned Emmy consideration. Then discussion of whether it would go streaming or somewhere like HBO or Showtime, which is still unresolved.
And nothing— nothing —has exceeded the casting chatter. Who among us hasn’t fancast every it-girl and internet boyfriend as Vethryn for the past decade?
When the producers confirmed they would consider relative unknowns as well as famous names, speculation went into overdrive. Everyone has opinions on who would make the perfect Kethryn and Val.
Including, apparently, the man in front of me.
He reads the look on my face. “I’m here,” he confirms, “in humble submission of myself for consideration. I figured I could show Ms. Winters my stuff up close. Impress her, hopefully.”
Humble is not the word I would use. Everything else is music to my ears.
“I planned on coming at the start but I booked a last-minute commercial,” Erik adds. He sounds genuinely nervous. “I hope I haven’t missed too much.”
I want to reassure him, except I’m finding it increasingly difficult to remain a human capable of speech. Erik is physically just like I imagined Val. And if he is any good at acting, and he does impress Heather and get the role…he could be the closest thing there is to Val in real life.
The universe, I conclude, is giving me exactly the sign I need right now. Written in enchanted lettering, decorated in the white roses of the Elytheum Courts. My favorite sort of sign.
Don’t write off your dreams , it reads . Fantasy can be real .
“No,” I manage to say. “No, you haven’t missed much.” Only me and a guy I work with wrestling on the lawn, rolling down the hill outside, and other embarrassing episodes I would not want the next real-life Val to witness . “Heather hasn’t really been around much yet anyway. Everyone has been trying to win this scavenger hunt,” I elaborate. “Find three clues and you win dinner with Val.”
At the mention of his rival, Erik makes a face. “No thanks,” he pronounces.
I have to smile. It’s just, it’s very Val. Every time visiting envoys play suitor to Kethryn in the halls of the court, the Lord of Night is described looking exactly this way.
Erik paces over to the window. “Although…” he starts.
He gazes out, the light dappling his features. Does he really have dark brown eyes exactly like Val? Or is he committing to contacts for the role?
Either way, it’s amazing. You could paint a book cover from the commanding way he overlooks the campus from our vantage.
“If I win the scavenger hunt, it would get Ms. Winters’s attention,” he muses.
He puts his hand to his chin, deep in thought.
I take a breath, for an idea has formed in my head. A daring idea, like the raid on Nightfell.
Fantasies are real , I remind myself. You just have to reach for them.
“We could work together,” I propose.
Erik looks up. He eyes me.
“I’ll take the dinner and you have a shot at impressing Heather,” I explain calmly, hiding how uncalm I feel. In fact, Erik has presented in himself the answer to the question lurking in my head since morning. How can I recover my lead, my command of the scavenger hunt? With every passing hour, I’ve been forced to realize my fan knowledge combined with my intuition—with fairly minimal help from my athletic coordination—have not proven enough. I need something new. My next move.
Like a partner.
Erik looks—oh, what’s the word?—intrigued.
When he replies, I hear the seriousness of his consideration. “And why should I work with you?” he queries. “I don’t know anything about you.”
“I figured out the first clue on the second day,” I reply.
Erik nods.
“Impressive,” he admits. “You must be, like, a superfan or something.”
“Proudly,” I say.
I mean it. And when Erik grins, I know it was the right answer. He studies me, looking enticed if not quite convinced. I do wonder if my present state has something to do with his hesitation. I don’t exactly look like I have my highly competent shit in order. I look like…well, like someone who just rolled down a hill into a river.
I straighten anyway. Heroines look badass covered in mud.
“An alliance?” Erik asks.
“Yes,” I confirm.
Finally, he sticks out his hand to shake.
Yes. When he opened our door, I was exhilarated just to have a hot roommate. Now I may have lucked into so much more. Don’t give up . Reach for it.
Confidently, I put my dirt-encrusted palm in his.