Chapter 13 Colette
Colette
Archer hasn’t been at the tavern’s bar top for more than a few minutes, but it looks as though he and Grumlin are already having a deep discussion. I want to give Archer space, so I leave for the reading without drawing attention.
“Archer isn’t joining in on the reading?” Kaya whispers as she pushes the tavern’s door open.
“Again?” Tully scowls at Archer’s back as the door swings shut.
The night is clear and getting colder. Snowlight weather, indeed. I want to be excited about the event and tonight’s reading, but what if others in town are curious like Tully and Kaya? What if the whole thing dissolves into gossip?
“He isn’t into crowds. That’s all it is,” I say, completely lying. I don’t want to get into his whole the work is too raw for a reading thing.
“I’ve heard vampires can be solitary like that,” Kaya says.
Tully nods and flicks her wand at a snow drift. The snow separates and lifts into the air before snapping like a fire and bursting into rainbow-colored sparkles.
I grab her free hand. “That was beautiful.”
She lifts an eyebrow at my grip, so I release her.
“Thank you,” she says. “I like playing with snow and magic.”
That reminds me of my conversation with Kaya and Cyrus.
“Tully, is there any way I could persuade you to magick the Snowlight ritual so that Archer will be my partner?”
Her gaze cuts to the right, then to the left. “Is this a test?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Kaya shakes her head. “No, she’s serious, Tully. That’s what I meant earlier.”
Tully slides her wand into her belt, and we walk around the fountain and head toward the bookshop.
The witch eyes the sky like she’s looking for signs. “The mayor has ordered me not to meddle in people’s affairs unless all parties agree to the magic involved ahead of time.”
“But this isn’t a love spell,” Kaya says.
I like that she’s on my side. “Exactly,” I say. “Nothing like that. I’ll have him as a partner for a few minutes. It’s not that mischievous. If the drawing is a randomized magic spell anyway, who is to say we wouldn’t have drawn one another? It’s only a little mischievous.”
Tully grins, and it looks both sweet and wicked and I’m not sure how she manages that. “A little mischievous?”
“Aye.”
“He’ll see inside your head just like you’ll see inside his, you know,” the witch warns me.
“I know.”
“It’s not easy to see the raw truth like that. That portion of the festival is not very festive, to be honest. It’s very solemn.”
“I’m all right with that. I want to connect with him. See if I have a chance. If not, it’s completely fine. I will simply be his co-writer for this short story, then we’ll go our merry ways.”
“When you put it like that…” Tully clicks her tongue like she is pondering.
Kaya laughs and rolls her eyes. “Oh, say yes. You know you want to.” She elbows me. “Tully may be reformed, but she still adores any sort of meddling.”
The witch shrugs. “She’s right.”
I clap and skip a few steps, nearly busting my arse on the slippery snow. They catch my arms and laugh with me.
The bookshop’s double doors creak open to a healthy crowd packed between the shelves. Fairies, humans like me, orcs, goblins, shifters, and more sit at small, round tables. Many have to stand because there aren’t enough chairs.
I recognize many faces. Tully’s minotaur mate, Argos, I think is his name?
Yes, that’s right. And there’s Rom and Laini, the gargoyle weather watcher and his weaver mate.
Mayor Rustion, a lion shifter with tawny, bushy hair, is there with his mate, Nisa.
Nisa waves a sunset-hued hand in greeting and her pixie wings flutter like panes of thin glass behind her.
There are some new faces here too. Perhaps folks I haven’t yet met who live in town or tourists who have heard about the project due to that first, um, event.
This is the largest crowd I’ve seen in Leafshire Cove.
Some smile kindly, but a couple of folks eye me narrowly like they’re here to judge me. That doesn’t bother me, but I’m also not going to put up with hecklers. I will see them right out that door and I know Mayor Rustion will help me with that—Tully and Kaya too.
I selected a short snippet that includes a poetic line from the male lead and a snarky, self-deprecating bit from the female lead.
Oh. Hmm. I didn’t think of this, but… Archer and I haven’t named them yet and that might make this snippet awkward.
I can name them, right? Will Archer mind?
Well, if he hates what I pick, we can change it and that’ll be a fun behind-the-scenes thing for this crowd to be a part of.
In fact, I’ll open with that fun tidbit.
The reading goes well.
The audience claps enthusiastically and even cheers a little at my female lead’s final quip.
I’m feeling floaty and happy as I join Lysandra at the back of the room, where she’s set up a table with wine and cider for the guests.
Some say hello as they take a drink or wave goodnight.
I respond in kind, thinking the evening has gone remarkably well until I overhear a mean tone of voice on the far side of a giggling group of youths going on about Archer and how handsome he is on the sketch Lysandra did for the event.
“…and he’s not at this reading either,” the mean voice says. “He probably doesn’t want to work with her.”
My face flushes hotly and I fist my hands.
“But why?” The other person says. They’re a tall pixie with blue skin like Rychell’s sweet son, Nate. The mean person must be very short with how bent over the pixie is while listening to them.
“She isn’t up to his standards,” Meanie says. “I know. I’ve read his work. It’s exceptional.”
I silently snort in my head. I’m no stranger to people hating on romance because it’s romance. I know very well that my writing is as strong as his.
“She does seem like the flaky sort,” the pixie says, making me grind my teeth. “I don’t know how she runs an inn and writes books. Maybe she has a ghostwriter and she doesn’t do any of it anyway. Maybe that’s why Darkheart isn’t showing up for their events.”
Blessed Stones! Who do these people think they are, coming to my event and hissing about me in corners? I feel tears welling.
“Could be,” Meanie says. “Could very well be.”
Lysandra grips my arm and shakes her head like I shouldn’t even worry about what they’re saying, but I can’t stop my chest from aching.
I know I look like a flighty sort of person, what with how happy things make me and how I can’t hide anything from my face, but I have always been a hard worker, and this sort of judgey attitude really digs under my skin.
I gently detach from Lysandra’s hold. “I’ll be right back.”
Hurrying out of the bookshop, I inhale the cold, night air. I slip around the corner of the building and hide from the moonlight. The stupid tears are already coming down and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. At least I made it out here before anyone saw me.
“Colette?”
I gasp. It’s Archer.
He bends his head down and approaches slowly, a question in his glittering, vampire eyes. Gosh, he is so lovely. I wipe my eyes as best I can, but it’s hopeless. Once I start crying, I usually can’t stop for a long, long while.
“I’m fine.”
He glances toward the bookshop. The door opens and some people start to leave. With a quick three steps, Archer is standing beside me in the shadows of the buildings.
“I said, I’m fine,” I repeat. “You can go on doing whatever it is you were doing. Seriously, I’m just in a mood. Nothing big.”
Raising a black eyebrow, he comes closer.
He’s standing right in front of me. The ruby stone in his necklace catches the moonlight for a moment, and then I look up into his face again.
His scent cocoons me and my shoulders drop away from my ears.
Some of the tension in me leaves, but the tears keep on coming.
“I’m fine,” I say for the third time.
“Obviously.”
I huff an unfunny laugh and wipe my eyes again. He pulls out a square of sage green linen and hands it to me. I dab at my eyes and chin.
“Thanks,” I mutter, wishing he would go away already.
“Why are you out here? Do you want me to grab Lysandra? You two are close, right? Or you can talk to me. I am very good at keeping things private.”
“No, no, don’t get anyone. Just give me a minute and then you can walk me back to the inn if you insist on helping.”
His brow furrows, and he purses his lips, his gaze smoothing across my features like he is searching for an answer to why I’m upset. I’m not telling him. He will only give me the whole I told you so for insisting on doing a reading.
My parents used to do that when I came to them with troubles.
You seek out problems, Colette, my father used to say.
Problems you wouldn’t have if you simply followed a straighter path in life, Mother would usually add on.
You never listen to our warnings. I don’t expose my less-than-happy feelings now. I know better than that as an adult.
“All right. I’m going to walk around the square and come back,” Archer says.
“Good.”
With one more concerned look over his shoulder, he walks away and leaves me to my continued crying. It’s ridiculous how much water can come out of my face. It wasn’t even a big deal. It was two fools being unkind. I take some long, deep breaths.
“Colette?” Lysandra finds me when my face is at last dry. “Are you ill?”
“Oh yeah, I think I ate something off earlier. I’m all right now.”
“Do you want to stay with me tonight?” she asks kindly. “I have an extra cot.”
“No, Archer is going to walk me back to the inn, actually.”
Her eyes widen and a quiet gasp leaves her mouth. “He is?”
“Aye, he was out walking, I believe. Just happened to find me here.”
“That’s good of him. But why didn’t he come to the reading if he was around here anyway?”
“He is still pretty firm on not wanting any part of it. Not yet, anyway.”
“I bet he was watching through the window to get a temperature on the audience’s response.”
“That’s what we would do, Lysandra, but Archer is not us.”
Her right shoulder lifts in a half shrug. “He certainly isn’t.”
She looks like she wants to say something derogatory about the vampire, but he approaches and she lets it drop.
The stroll back to the inn with Archer is mostly silent.
I appreciate the lack of continued questioning about my little episode back there.
Archer seems very comfortable at night, gazing up at the stars and moon, giving a bat flying overhead a smile, and glancing my way now and then as if to check on me.
I don’t hate it. I don’t hate it one bit.
I feel like I could walk with him for ages and never tire of it. He makes me feel safe.
When we get to the door, he faces me and takes my hand. He brushes a kiss over my knuckles and I can’t figure out what to say or how to react. I didn’t expect this at all.
He releases my fingers, looking like he didn’t intend to kiss my hand. “I’m sorry for whatever you’re dealing with. If you ever want to talk, I’d love to listen.”
I blink back yet more tears, damn it all. He is one for deep feelings, it seems. Maybe I should… But my stomach twists and I let the idea fall away.
“Thanks, Archer. That’s really good of you.”
“You don’t have to hide sadness, to shove it into a dark alleyway.”
“I don’t. It’s simply nothing important.”
Archer’s gaze smooths across my forehead and cheeks like a soft touch. “Your feelings are always important.”
I shrug. “But you told me not to do the reading. I did it, and I ended up dealing with a couple of rough critics.”
His features pull into sharp lines and angles, and his eyes spark with danger. My heart speeds up and I take a step back. He looks… deadly.