Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
MONTY
W alnut Avenue is the most upscale street in downtown Jasper, home to gentlemen’s clubs, high-end dining, a private ballroom, and an opera house. I spent many family outings of my youth on Walnut Street, amongst the affluent, snobbish, and incredibly boring patrons it caters to. I’ve made it my mission the last few years never to step foot on this side of town unless necessary for work, and I wouldn’t be here today if I didn’t have a reason.
The most important reason in my life.
I take a drag of my cigarillo, the floral smoke calming my frazzled nerves as I make my way past familiar buildings, brushing past aristocrats and wealthy businessmen in top hats and frock coats. My body recoils at how smothered a full suit makes me feel, but I needed to dress the part to prevent any delays in fulfilling my mission. My workday starts in an hour, so I don’t have much time. I’m determined to do this today.
I stop outside an enormous brick building with white columns along the first floor and tall arched windows lining the second. Gold lettering spells out The Magnolia above an enormous pair of double doors with gold handles. My stomach tightens but I remind myself this is necessary.
Every Monday when my father is in town, he starts his day drinking tea and reading his broadsheets at The Magnolia, his favorite members-only club. It’s been his ritual for as long as we lived at Sandalwood Manor, my family’s city home. Which means, unless he’s off on business, he’s here now.
I take a deep breath and approach the butler at the door. I give him my name, and he disappears inside for only a handful of seconds before he returns to escort me inside. I’m not surprised at how quickly my visit was approved. Despite having disinherited me, Father likely kept me listed as family at the club, to make it easy should I ever want to come crawling back.
But I’m not crawling, nor am I coming back. I’m facing him head-on. I’m doing what I was always too afraid to do before.
The butler leads me into a wide room with mahogany walls and a white coffered ceiling. Dozens of tables paired with leather chairs are set throughout the room, most of which are filled with male—primarily human, as far as I can tell at a glance—occupants. I find Father at his usual table, his broadsheets out and a fat cigar between his lips. He doesn’t look at me as I claim the empty leather chair across from him, as if my presence is no surprise.
“Are you here to tell me I was right?” he says, turning a page in his paper. “You and that fae girl are an item after all, aren’t you?”
My fists curl on my armrests. Of course that’s how he greets me. “Good morning to you too, Father.”
“I looked into her,” he says, finally deigning to set down his cigar and broadsheets. He gives me an exasperated look and lowers his voice to a whisper. “She’s not a proper match. I know you need a fae wife so when your children are born…” He relays the rest with an arched brow, and I know exactly what he means. He’s always been adamant I take a fae wife so that when I conceive heirs, any fae nature they exhibit will be easily explained. “You cannot come back to the family unless?—”
“I’m not coming back to the family,” I say, not lowering my voice as quietly as his. My heart slams against my ribs. I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to say it, but I can’t ignore the truth any longer. Daphne was right about me. All my life I’ve been terrified of being hurt by those I love. Terrified of being abandoned without understanding why. I’ve hated the ones who’ve hurt me yet I’m equally frightened of losing them. Because without their awful, fickle love, who do I have? I hurt friends, family, and lovers to keep them at bay, so I always knew I was to blame for our separation. So it would always be their choice to leave me, but also their choice to take me back. It’s been a sick and twisted dance of hate, hurt, and a need to be loved.
But I’m done with it.
I don’t need to push people away anymore. I’m strong enough to survive if they leave.
And I don’t need to keep those in my life that are undeserving of my love.
I can make the choice.
I can sever the bonds.
I’ve done it before, with Cosette, when I finally made it clear we were over.
I can do the same with my father.
His face flushes crimson, and he glances to the nearest tables. “We should speak in private back home?—”
“No, we’ll speak here. I’ll make it quick.” I extract a piece of paper from my waistcoat pocket and push it across the table.
He narrows his eyes at me before taking up the paper and reading what I’ve written there. “What the hell is this?”
“The balance I owe a certain lender.”
He leans back in his chair, chuckling. “Ah, I see. You’ve found out just how hard it is to live on your own and had to take out a loan. Now your debt is catching up to you and you want me to bail you out. You know my terms for financial aid. Return to your proper place as my heir and take a proper wife?—”
“No, we’re not playing that game.” I lean forward, my lips curling in a cold grin. “Here’s the thing. That loan isn’t an ordinary one. My lender deals in secrets.”
His face pales, expression dipping into horror before he recovers, donning a haughty mask. He keeps his voice a low whisper. “You couldn’t have said a word, or you’d have suffered the effects of our bargain.”
“I didn’t say a word.” My grin widens, growing colder. Crueler. “I didn’t have to utter a single syllable because my lender read my fucking mind. Now he knows everything. And if he doesn’t receive this balance paid in full by July 16 th , your secret is out.”
His jaw tics, rage pulsing at his temples. I can tell just how much restraint he’s exerting to keep from shouting at me. It’s a satisfying sight that makes this public meeting worth it, just to witness how much effort it takes for him to pretend to be a decent human amongst his peers. He grinds his teeth. “Of all the idiotic?—”
“Here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to let me out of my bargains. Both of them. You will no longer burden me with keeping your secret. I will continue to protect our family’s reputation by not intentionally spreading the truth, but I’m not going to keep it from those I love. Furthermore, I will no longer be bound by the condition that I’ll return to the family if I marry. You have no right to intervene with my love life and future happiness. You have no sway over who I choose as a wife, and you will have no influence in my life going forward. Because I am done with you. However, if you honor my request and free me from the two bargains we made, I will give you the name of my lender and allow you to pay my debt and save your sorry reputation.”
I sit back and let my words sink in, watching his eyes widen as he processes my offer and assesses the repercussions. He takes a silk cloth from his jacket pocket and mops his brow. His voice comes out with a tremor as he speaks. “I need some time to consider.”
“No, you will make your decision now. Rescind our bargains before I walk out that door, or in a matter of weeks, everyone in this room and beyond will know you’re a fucking fraud. A mockery of what they consider the pinnacle of human propriety. If you think you’ll get re-elected as Human Representative after the Alpha Council finds out?—”
“Enough,” he says, the word loud enough to draw the attention of multiple club patrons. He returns his voice to a whisper, but it quavers with fear. “Enough. You’ve made your point.”
We stare at each other in silence for a few tense moments.
My father mops his brow again, then says, “If I free you from our bargains, I need at least a binding promise that you’ll do your best to keep your lineage from leaking to the public.”
I give a cold laugh. “Did I say I was open to negotiations? Rescind our bargains now, no conditions, no promises. Simply trust that I care enough about Angela to do my part. The rest is up to you, asshole.”
He bares his teeth. “How dare you talk to me that way, you ungrateful?—”
I rise from my chair and start to stride away.
“Wait.” His shout once again draws the curious eyes of the other patrons. “My dear son,” he says, softening his tone, “it’s been too long. We still have more catching up to do.”
With slow steps, I return to him, stopping next to his chair and staring down at him. “End it,” I say through my teeth.
I’ve never seen him so pale, so frail, so cowed. His gaze flicks to the other tables before he stares down at the paper again. Then, in the quietest voice, he sets me free.
My relief is dizzying, thrilling, thrumming through every muscle in my body. I’m free. I’m fucking free. Part of me is stuck in disbelief, convinced it was all a trick. It’s so simple to end a bargain, so devoid of fanfare. In cases where one party set the bargain’s terms to impose on another, the first party must revoke the bargain by verbally stating it is null and void and all terms have been either fulfilled or dissolved. Father stated exactly that—in a whisper only I could hear—but he said it. Twice, specifying which bargain he was ending each time.
Just to be sure, I halt before the next stranger I pass, a lanky human man with a long gray mustache. I grab him by the lapels. “My mother is a fox.”
I wait for pain, for a tightening in my lungs, but it doesn’t come.
“I’m a fucking fennec. My father is a liar and a cheater and a whore.”
“Good God,” the man says with a huff, shaking me off and dusting his lapels with gloved hands. He scurries away as if he fears he might catch my madness.
It worked. It really worked. I’m nearly sick with joy. There are so many people I want to tell. Thorne, who will be enraged that I kept such a secret from him but will probably relate to me most. He’s had to deal with his own family secrets, and he’ll hate that I never let him be there for me. And Briony, who might forgive me just a little more for being so goddamn annoying when we were engaged. I had reasons for not wanting to marry her, for being desperate to give my father cause to disinherit me. Angie needs to know too. It’s time I stopped keeping her in the dark and acknowledge she’s stronger than I’ve given her credit for. She deserves the truth. Of course, Edwina and William will get a kick out of this too.
But most of all…
Daphne.
I must tell Daphne that there’s nothing standing between us now. There’s no need to keep our love hidden. No limits to where our relationship can go.
My rational side reminds me to check my pocket watch and see how much time I have left until my workday starts, but I can’t pay the ticking hands much heed. I have to see her. Now.
I hail the first hansom cab I find, directing the coachman to Fletcher-Wilson headquarters in the business district. Traffic is slow on Verbena Street, so I get out a couple blocks early, pay the driver, then jog the rest of the way. That’s when I see what’s causing so much commotion. Figures crowd the sidewalk holding signs and chanting slogans. Something about smut and bare chests.
I stride for the front doors, but a woman intercepts me. “Good sir, will you sign my petition to keep bare chests off book covers?”
“Fuck off,” I say and brush past her. At her shocked gasp, I halt to face her with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. That was rude to say to a lady. What I meant was kindly fuck off.”
I don’t bother stopping at reception and instead climb the stairs to the editorial floor. It’s a flurry of commotion, making it impossible to spot Daphne. I stride between desks, overwhelmed by the chaos. I wonder if this is how Daphne feels in new or crowded places, assaulted by sound and confusion.
“What are you doing here?”
I whirl toward the familiar voice, but it takes me a moment to locate its source. Finally, I find a paper pixie lounging on her belly on an ink pot, a manuscript open on the desk before her. I haven’t seen Araminta in her unseelie form since the day I reunited with Daphne outside the break room. But if she’s here…
“Where’s Daphne?”
With lazy motions, she flips the page of the manuscript to read the next. “She’s probably at the train station by now.”
“What do you mean she’s at the station?”
“Her book covers were canceled and her promotion was postponed or something.”
My heart slams down to my feet. “Why did she go to the station?”
“Mr. Fletcher gave her the rest of the day off, and she said something about catching the noon train.”
“To where?”
“Beats me. I’m too depressed for cognition.” She turns another page of the manuscript. “Why else do you think I’m reading bad queries?”
I run a hand over my face as dread settles into my chest. There’s only one place I can think she’d go after learning her career goals have imploded.
She’s given up , taunts the dark side of my heart. Without her career, she has nothing to free her from her handfasting. You were never enough. Of course she ran away .
She left. She fucking left. Before I could tell her…
Everything inside me wants to shrivel.
You never should have confessed your heart to her. It’s only going to hurt more to lose her.
But I don’t have to lose her. Not anymore. I can be what she needs me to be.
You can never be what she needs. She was here for her illustration career, not you ? —
I shake the small, frightened voices from my mind, seeking my anger instead. Anger at whatever shitshow is going on outside the building. Anger over her covers being canceled. My inner fire rises, and I don’t shy away from it. I let it burn me up from the inside, turning those dark thoughts to cinders. My anger joins hands with my passion, my fiery love for Daphne, my burning resolve to fight for what I want for once.
A spark I’ve seldom felt lights my chest. This is normally when I’d breathe in my calming herbal remedy and soothe my rage, but I don’t this time. This time I encourage it to grow, to spread through my limbs, simmer in my blood. Violet covers my vision, something I’ve only seen once. It’s the color of fae magic, linked to the spiritual realm that powers one’s ability to shift. My body radiates with it. It’s strange and new and slightly terrifying, but I turn myself over to it. A shiver crawls up my spine, and as it radiates back down, I feel myself shrinking.
Then I drop onto four paws and dart back in the direction I came.
Araminta’s squeal is the last thing I hear before I reach the stairwell. “Ohmygod, you’re sooo cute!”
Her squeals aren’t the only ones I encounter. More erupt from the women crowding the sidewalk, but I dart past them, between legs and under skirts, maneuvering much easier and faster than I could on two legs with so much commotion blocking my way. And thank fuck too. I have a train to catch.