Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
DAPHNE
T he last time I boarded a train was during The Heartbeats Tour. Traveling on one now fills me with nostalgia for that month of my life when we rode from city to city, staying in a new place every few days. I didn’t appreciate it much at the time and found the whole ordeal quite a bother. The crowded train cars grated on my nerves, as did the busy events Monty and I were responsible for managing. Even though I didn’t socialize after hours with the new friends I’d made, I began to enjoy myself more.
Now I can say with certainty that I miss those days.
“This almost feels like before, doesn’t it?” I grin at Monty across the small table between us, set with tea and cookies. We’re seated in the public car on a pair of velvet-cushioned seats that line the wood-paneled interior. Emerald-green drapes flank windows that glow with late afternoon sunlight, a view of the Earthen Court countryside speeding past on a palette of every shade of green. Our accommodations aren’t as comfortable as the private compartments we traveled in during the tour, but our travels aren’t funded by a company budget this time. We’ll be here for the entire eighteen-hour ride. Thankfully, the public car isn’t too crowded and our fellow passengers keep to themselves, their conversations too hushed to carry.
“Yes,” Monty says, “except you’re not sleeping on the luggage rack.”
My grin widens. That was how I preferred to pass my time during train rides back then. I’d doze away from the rest of the group, always keeping one ear open to rejoin my party only when I found a conversation topic of interest. I was so shy back then. So anxious I might say the wrong thing or forget myself and go against social norms. It was only last year that I confessed this to Edwina, and she’d had no idea. She thought I came across as clever and confident. She thought I took time to myself or stayed quiet because I preferred my own company over socializing. While that is somewhat true, it doesn’t represent how I feel inside. My yearning to fit in versus my dislike of loud places and tedious conversations. My love for my friends and my desire to spend time with them versus my protection over my comfort levels.
Yet a couple of times now, Monty has helped me find balance between the sides at war within me. Like when he brought me the noise-softening candy floss. Or our shooting game during the carnival. Or running through the rain afterward.
I never told Monty what I told Edwina.
Somehow he already knew.
“Is my presence not a significant difference as well?” asks the human woman beside me. Monty’s sister smiles wide over the teacup she holds in her hand, her gaze volleying between us. “I’d love to hear about the tour you managed together. I only read about it from that interview you did in the Gazette all those months ago.”
Monty chokes on his own sip of tea, his cheeks going crimson. “You read that?”
“Of course I did. It sounds like the tour was rather lively.” Angela Phillips gives a proud nod, not an ounce of teasing on her face. Then she angles herself toward me. “I hope he wasn’t too much of a pest. He can be a lot to deal with.”
My pulse spikes as it always does when I’m getting used to conversing with someone I don’t yet know. Especially someone like Angela, who is as well-dressed as she is well-spoken. She’s outfitted in a gown of navy taffeta and a matching hat, her light-brown curls styled expertly beneath it. Meanwhile, I’m dressed in my usual work attire—trousers, blouse, waistcoat—and hardly bothered to do more with my hair than tuck the ends behind my ears.
But the sight of Monty across the table steadies my nerves. He’s dressed as casually as I am, not a hint of his aristocratic upbringing on display.
My lips curl into a taunting smirk. “Pest is certainly a word for Monty, though I can think of several more apt terms.”
His nostrils flare and he gives my foot a playful kick under the table.
Before Angela joined us at the station today, he asked me not to bring up any inappropriate topics in front of his sister that involve him. “She knows I’m a careless rake,” he said, “but she doesn’t need to know to what extent. Particularly about my Ask Gladys column.”
While I’m bound to keep my promise and am charmed by how protective he is of her, I can still make him squirm a little.
“Will you be able to see your friends while we’re in the Star Court?” Angela asks. “The author and the actor? They live in Lumenas, don’t they?”
I beam at Monty, eagerly anticipating his answer. Edwina and William recently purchased an apartment in downtown Lumenas, which is in the same court we’ll be in. However, their city is in the far north while we’ll be in the south, so the chances that we can meet with them over the busy weekend are slim.
“Unfortunately,” Monty says, crushing my hopes at once, “neither is home. William is currently touring the isle in support of his new stage play and Edwina is traveling with him while she pens her newest book. I sent them a telegram just to be sure.”
My shoulders sink. “The four of us should make plans to reunite. We haven’t been together in the same room even once since you were an—” I clear my throat before I can say asshole . “Since you were a pest to me.”
Angela’s mouth falls open. “Did the two of you have a falling-out? I swear, my brother cannot maintain friendships for the life of him. Did you know Thorne Blackwood is the only person who’s been able to tolerate Monty long-term? Aside from me, of course. Thorne and Monty have been friends since they were children. Father was always encouraging Monty to make friends, but my brother didn’t give anyone the time of day until he met Thorne. Good thing Papa went into business with Thorne’s father or the boys never would have met.”
I train my expression into a look of casual interest, though I’m more curious about the complete lack of vitriol in her voice when she mentions their father. Monty has made his disdain clear, but Angela doesn’t seem to share his feelings.
She continues. “But even Thorne kept his distance from Monty for a time. They seem much closer now, but my brother went through this moody phase where he lost all his friends. Even Cosette?—”
“Please, do not bring up Cosette.” Monty’s tone is firm. It’s the first time I’ve heard him use such a voice with Angela thus far.
She lowers her teacup, her posture dejected. “You never told me what happened with her.”
“She hasn’t tried to correspond with you, has she?”
“No,” Angela says with a pout.
“Good. You have better friends than her now. Pay her no heed, even in memory.”
Tension radiates off Monty, and I can’t help wondering if Cosette is the first love he told me about. He never mentioned she was once friends with his sister, only that he had known her a long time.
Angela heaves a sigh. “Very well. I won’t speak of her , but I am glad you at least made up with Thorne. Who would have guessed you’d become better friends after he fell in love with your fiancée?”
“Fiancée,” I echo. “We’re going to the wedding of your former fiancée?” My mind reels over this information. If this woman named Cosette isn’t his first love, then could the bride be? He told me she left him for someone else. Could she have left him for his best friend ? Anger and annoyance writhe within me, though I’m not sure who I’m angrier at—Monty for not explaining this beforehand or the bride I’m going to meet.
“Did he not tell you?” Angela asks. “It was quite a big deal. His engagement to the princess was supposed to make the Phillipses part of the royal family. That’s why Father was so angry when Monty refused to marry her and she ended up falling in love with Thorne instead.”
“A princess?” I blink at her, trying to paint more comprehension onto an already messy canvas. I cut a glare across the table. “You’re taking me to a royal wedding? What the fuck, Monty? Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
Several pairs of eyes shoot our way from nearby tables, but I’m too flustered to care.
Monty holds out his hands in a placating gesture. “She’s not a princess anymore. She left her royal family—who are no longer royals, by the way—as did Thorne.”
I don’t think my eyes can go any wider. “Your best friend comes from a royal family too?”
“Sort of, but not really. It’s a long story.”
“I thought you said he was a baker.”
“He is. Well, he’s a baker and the owner of one of the most popular bakery chains in Faerwyvae. And the lord of Blackwood Estate.”
I sink against my seat cushion, mind still whirling. There is one question that hounds my mind more than any other. I hold his gaze and speak through my teeth. “Is she the one? Your first love?—”
“No, Briony Rose and I never had any love between us. Our engagement was arranged by our parents but neither of us wanted it. That’s why I encouraged her and Thorne’s attachment when I sensed the spark between them.”
My anger cools. His explanation cuts my theory in two. So the bride is not the woman who hurt him—and whom he hurt in return. She’s merely a former fiancée from a loveless engagement who fell for his friend. It sounds rather awkward, but it’s a better situation than the one I was imagining a moment before. If I forget about the whole former princess part.
“First love,” Angela says, brow furrowed. “Brother, you’ve never been in love before, have you?” When he doesn’t answer, she adds, “You know, I wouldn’t call what you did for Thorne and Briony encouragement. You tormented them. You were so annoying.”
The tension finally leaves Monty’s expression. His lips curl into a grin. “I was incredibly annoying to them. Briony won’t likely have the best things to relay about me.” He says the last part to me. Then I feel something soft against my ankle. It’s the tip of his shoe gently grazing me from ankle to shin, the gesture apologetic. Well, he should be sorry for not preparing me sooner for what’s in store, but at least I know now.
Angela gives me a somber nod. “I can only imagine the anecdotes Briony could share. You should have heard the idiocy leaving my dear brother’s lips back then. He was all let’s turn our engagement into a game and let’s see how well my bride can ride, and he was absolutely speaking in innuendo.”
Monty pinches his brow. “Good God, Angie, please don’t repeat the horrible things I do or say.”
“Then I’d be struck mute when trying to talk about you, wouldn’t I?” Angela immediately breaks into tittering laughter, pleased with her own insult.
I can’t help smiling too. Despite how much Monty coddles his sister and treats her like an innocent girl, it’s clear she’s clever. She may have a heavy dose of the naiveté that’s characteristic of highborn young women, due to the propriety she was raised with, but she doesn’t seem fragile.
“Just wait until you see how he acts around Thorne and Briony,” she says. “He’s like a completely different person.”
I arch a brow at Monty as I lift my teacup from its saucer and take a sip. “A different person, hmm?”
He says nothing, only holds my gaze as he sips from his own cup.
Perhaps I’ll get my wish about seeing the secret sides of Monty after all.