Monty narrows his eyes, and for a moment I wonder if he was serious about gladly taking any opportunity to brawl. I could take him on with my slight height advantage, but I’ve never been in a fight that wasn’t choreographed. Still, I hold his gaze without falter.
His face breaks into a grin. “That’s my boy. Next time, say all that in front of her. Oh, and you still owe me an answer about your preferred size and shape of peaks…of meringue.” He waggles his brows, then jogs the rest of the way to join the women.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EDWINA
Being on time is—unsurprisingly—a rather serene experience. There’s no rushing. No running. No pleading with fate to turn back the hands of time. It helps that my lodgings are only a three-minute walk from my destination. The small dorm room Jolene and I shared last night was so quaint, so much like the one I resided in when I was a college student in Bretton, it was hard to remember I was in the faelands at all. I thought perhaps Hyperion University was solely a human college, but as I enter the university library, I’m once again immersed in the splendor of fae charm.
The entrance unfolds into a grand atrium that almost looks more like a greenhouse than a library, with floors of white marble veined with gold and potted plants and flowers surrounding a wide circular fountain. Several floors of endless ivory shelves flank the atrium, lined with walkways edged with marble balustrades and colonnades.
I return my gaze to the atrium and take a better look at the fountain before me. Trickling water creates a soothing symphony as it pours from the marble statues at its center. I step closer and study the three human figures that comprise the statues. I gasp, recognizing the countenance of the closest one. It’s Ananda Badami, one of the greatest female writers of all time! With slightly more reserved excitement, I note the two other likenesses beside her. Grant Farthing, poet. Sylvain Rushworth, award-winning novelist. My heart swells to see them centered here, like guardian angels of this most precious place of literature and learning.
It’s almost a struggle to tear my eyes away, but fluttering movement catches my attention. I stare up at the glass ceiling, bright with warm golden sunlight, and spot pale blue wings. Birds the size and shape of swallows swoop overhead to perch on the statues near the ceiling or the array of greenery. I’d be alarmed that they’d create a mess of droppings, but the glittering mist that trails in their wake as they fly tells me they aren’t regular birds. They must be fae creatures, and the mist…is that what keeps the temperature so cool in the library?
Mr. Phillips informed me there was no need to dress for heat during today’s signing, and I feared he’d pulled a prank on me as I made my way from the dorm, but now I can see he was right. My green long-sleeved taffeta dress is perfectly suited for this cool indoor climate.
I’m still not recovered from my awe, but I dare not dally too long. This is one of the rare occasions I’m on time, after all, and I’d like to take advantage of that after I set up my table. I follow Monty’s directions to the far end of the atrium. There, I find a modest circular dais, which I imagine must be used for lectures from guests or events like today. Two tables stand upon the platform, and I’m not surprised to see William’s already boasts neat piles of books on display. When Monty came to my roomto ensure I was ready for the event, William was already here setting up his table. Thank goodness he isn’t here now, and for the fact that we aren’t seated so close together. This time, our tables face each other from opposite sides of the dais.
I stride over to my table and find several crates full of my books. The boxes have been opened but none of the books have been displayed. I don’t have Daphne to help this time, but I can manage well enough on my own. I find a crate that’s only partially full—one with leftovers from the Wind Court signing, along with a pen, ink pots…and my uncomfortable shoes. Looks like William was bluffing when he threatened to throw them away if I didn’t take his stupid book. Well, he would have done me a favor by discarding them. I’ll have to do so myself after the signing. Keeping the shoes-I’ll-never-wear-again in the crate, I remove my books and artfully display them on my table. Only to realize one of the books is out of place.
Amidst the sea of my beautiful mauve covers is a volume in green. I scowl, recognizing it at once. Turns out my shoes weren’t the only things William returned. I remove the interloper from my stack and aggressively flip to the title page. The first thing I find is a pale pink flower petal, though I haven’t a clue how it got there. I remove it, letting it flutter to the ground, and read the page. Sure enough, I find the nameEdscrawled upon it, the D ending in a slash of ink. But that’s not all that’s written on the page. Beneath, it reads:I like smut and drivel.
I release an indignant huff. That cheeky bastard. I uncap my ink with far more force than necessary and hastily dip my pen. Beneath William’s message, I write:Well, I don’t like you. Or your book. Stop trying to give this to me.
Then I march over to his table and toss it onto his stack.
After I finish settingup my table, I check my pocket watch. Thirty minutes until the signing. I suppress an excited squeal and practically skip as I go off in search of the romance section. After begging for directions from the front desk, I find what I’m looking for on the second floor. The section isn’t quite as large as I’d hoped for such a grand library, but I can’t complain. Some of my favorite romances are shelved here, and there’s even four of mine! I openThe Governess and the Duke,grinning wide as I count the names on the borrowing card. To think this many students have become acquainted with the duke’s most impressive throbbing member.
I return my book to the shelf and seek out one I haven’t read yet. I’ve spent a good ten minutes here already, which means I’ll need to return to the dais soon. In the meantime, maybe I can determine my next read…
There! I spot a title on the clothbound spine of a book I’ve been meaning to procure. It’s on the shelf above my head, and this particular title has been pushed back just enough to put it at the end of my reach. I stand on my toes and extend my arm until my fingertips brush the spine?—
I flinch as I touch flesh rather than cloth. My eyes lower to a glower when I find William standing beside me. He already has the book in hand, but instead of handing it to me, he opens it.
“There’s a thing called a ladder,” William says as he browses the title page.
“I would have reached it if you hadn’t intervened. May I have the book now?”
He leans his shoulder against the shelf. “The Stag King and His Very Large Kingdom. What kind of title is that?”
“It’s a parody, but it does the romance genre justice. Quite steamy and enjoyable, but you wouldn’t understand.” I snatch the book out of his hands and turn my back on him.
“More research into the art of seduction?”
I stiffen, mortified that he’s somehow found my notebook. But no, he probably gleaned as much from the questions I asked Monty.
His voice dips low. “Weenie, I know you’re in over your head when it comes to this bet.”
“I’m not—” I whirl to face him, but I can’t say a word when I see the knowing glint in his eyes.
He leans down, bringing his face far too close. “I know your secret, love. You told me the other night.”
“I was drunk,” I say, turning my nose up at him.
“You were vulnerable and honest.” For a moment, the teasing lilt leaves his voice. “You don’t have to pretend otherwise.”
“Oh, well, what about your secret?”
