“Aw, I want to be on a first name basis too,” Mr. Phillips says as he approaches the table with an overfull tray. “I’d be honored if you’d call me Monty.”
He sets the tray down at the center of our table to reveal an assortment of colorful beverages, some in wine glasses and others in tumblers. William removes his forearms from the back of the chair and plants himself upon the seat. Right next to me. He slumps to the side, legs spread wide, and somehow still manages to look graceful. Yet he’s angled too close to me, and I note the way the hem of my skirt brushes the leg of his trousers.I changed before dinner, so at least my skirt doesn’t drag on the ground. Though…is the way it touches Mr. Haywood any better?
I abruptly scoot several inches from him.
Daphne hops into the seat at my other side while Arwen and her two companions settle in beside William. Monty remains standing and flourishes a hand at the tray. “Enjoy.”
There are twice as many beverages as there are bodies at our table, and I’m the only one who doesn’t immediately reach for a drink. Daphne extends her paws toward a tiny cup and brings its contents to her whiskered muzzle.
“What are you drinking?” I ask.
“Blackberry cordial.”
Watching a pine marten consume spirits is not something I ever thought I’d see in my lifetime. I assess Monty’s beverage next, a clear liquid in a tumbler. “And you?”
“This?” He frowns and takes a drag from the cigarillo he holds between two fingers. “Water. I don’t imbibe anymore. I’m a working man now. Responsible.” He says it with very little enthusiasm, then throws back a swallow of his benign beverage with the gusto of a man who must have once imbibed a great deal.
There’s a story there, I can sense it.
But more interestingly…
Booze.
I study the tray and find another pint of the same ale I’ve been drinking. But how can I keep drinking ale when there’s such a colorful spread before me? Violet wine like William drinks. An entire bottle of blackberry cordial. And several glasses of a rather curious drink that is clear indigo on the bottom half and a creamy pastel blue on the top. I note this is Arwen and her companions’ beverage of choice.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing at the one on the tray.
William leans forward and slaps me lightly on the back of my hand. “Not for you.”
I burn him with a seething glare. “Excuse me?—”
“He’s probably right about that,” Monty says with a chuckle. “That’s Cloud Dive. It reacts differently with everyone but has a stronger effect on humans.”
So it’s a fae beverage. I was cautioned about fae fruits in my brochure. Overconsumption of fae spirits is Way to Die Number Nine, but if I remember correctly, the warning was specifically regarding liquor made fromdangerousfae fruits.
I glance at Arwen and her companions who chat animatedly. The sylph shopkeeper is clearly pureblood fae, but the two women with her have rounded ears. They seem to be enjoying Cloud Dive just fine.
I glance back at the layered beverage with no small amount of longing. I at least want to know what it tastes like?—
“Not. For. You.” With every word, William inches closer and closer until our shoulders brush, his eyes locked on mine. He blinks at me, his lids slow and heavy. “Trust me.”
“Trust you? Why should I trust you?” He’s my rival, not to mention he’s already more inebriated than I am. I scoot even farther away from him and face Monty. “What exactly are its ill effects?”
Monty shrugs. “Cloud Dive’s motto isIt goes to your head. It’s the Wind Court’s specialty and represents the element of air. For some, that means a feeling of lightness or ease. For others, it enhances their sense of intellect. Creatives use it to generate new ideas. But that can also devolve into an overinflated ego and delusions of grandeur.”
That doesn’t sound so bad. Especially the part about enhancing intellect and generating ideas. I need more story ideas! I’ll need something to show I deserve a three-book contract. Controlling sales numbers is impossible, butpresenting three brilliant book proposals is something I can do. Maybe this liquid muse can help.
William’s eyes bore into my profile. If he wanted me to show restraint, he shouldn’t have tried to stop me. Now half the reason I want to drink it is to spite him. I reach for the glass. William tries to intercept me, but a slender blue hand falls over the back of his.
Arwen dances her fingertips up his forearm, drawing his eyes to hers. “Let her have fun,” she says, batting her lashes in a way that looks far too effortless. She angles herself toward him, and her fingertip glides up his arm until it’s under his chin. “Tell me one of your poems.”
William forgets me entirely, shifting toward her, and for some reason, that fills me with rage.
Without a second thought, I take the glass from the tray and down its contents.
CHAPTER SIX
I’m walking on air. Cloud Dive is the most delectable drink I’ve ever had. And I’ve had three now. The flavor is like blueberries and moonlight while its effects are unlike anything I’ve felt before. Where wine and ale dull my senses after a time, Cloud Dive sharpens my mind. I’ve never felt so clear or clever. Every word that leaves my mouth is bloody brilliant.
