The receptionist shakes her head. “We can’t guarantee vacancy at a comparable hotel. There are several large events this weekend that have attracted even more tourists than we’re used to this time of year.”
Pride flares in my chest. “You mean like our book signing? Is it such a large event?”
“I’m not aware of a book signing.”
“It’s called The Heartbeats Tour.”
William leans in with an amused grin, blocking my view of the receptionist. “I doubt our little book tour is big enough to be highlighted amongst the massive events occurring this weekend. Have you any idea what caliber of famous musicians and actors perform here?”
I glare, but he’s probably right.
“Your ego knows no bounds,” he whispers, but there’s a softness to his teasing, and his eyes linger on mine for an extra-long beat.
Monty opens his mouth to speak again, but Zane taps him on the shoulder. He turns to face the antlered fae with a questioning glance.
“I’ve got it covered,” Zane says. “I live in this city, remember? You’ll stay with me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EDWINA
Just when I think we missed out on staying in the finest accommodation in all of Lumenas, Zane’s offer makes me eat my words. Their apartment building is several floors higher than the hotel and boasts twice as many chandeliers in the lobby. The walls are painted black with multi-hued sparkles that evoke a likeness to starlight and nebulae. The floors are onyx, and with the chandeliers casting dancing light all around, I feel like I’m walking straight through the night sky as we proceed through the lobby.
“Love at first sight again?” William whispers in my ear. He’s stayed near me ever since we left the hotel and navigated the streets to reach Zane’s building. Several times he’s had to drag me away from sidewalk performers—spectacles I’m expected to openly gawk at, unlike the north wing—lest I get so distracted I lose my party.
I’m too enamored with the building’s interior to spare him a glance. “Yes.”
We reach the far end of the lobby and I find yet another reason to be impressed. Three open alcoves await, each smaller than a private washroom. A muscular fae stands beside each—a centaur, a fae with gray skin and barrel-shaped legs, and a more humanoid fae with a chest twice as broad as William’s, straining the buttons of his fine black-and-white suit. A trio of guests enter one of the alcoves before us, and a silver grate slides shut, followed by a black sliding door. The centaur reaches for a large lever and begins to turn it.
I glance at Zane. “Are those elevators?”
Zane nods and guides us toward the next open alcove over, beside the gray male—an elephant fae perhaps? A rhino? I’ve only ever seen paintings of such creatures, so what do I know?
We pack ourselves into the elevator, and the grate closes, then the door. The first lurch of motion has me clutching the rail that lines the wall. It creates a sensation in my gut that is nauseating yet thrilling. We don’t have elevators in Bretton, and I doubt we have a single building even half this tall, but I’ve heard of the technology. The fae truly have some impressive advancements. I suppose it makes sense considering they have magic and fae creatures with unique abilities on their side. It’s inspiring. Amazing. Incredible. My fingers flinch, craving the notebook I left in my carpet bag with all my other luggage, stored at the station.
Fourteen Ways to Fall in Love with Faerwyvae.
My next just-for-fun illustrated list.
Yearning fills my chest at the thought, cracked open by my awe. It takes me a moment to understand where it’s coming from.
Then I realize…
I don’t want this feeling to end. I want to see more. Experience more. I want to stay here. To live here in Faerwyvae, and I want it for more reasons than just the publishing contract.This magical, eclectic, and fantastic isle…I think I might belong here. I could thrive off this kind of inspiration.
“Maynard is the fastest elevator operator,” Zane says, interrupting my thoughts. “He can get us to the top floor in three minutes.”
My mouth falls open. “You live on the top floor?”
“I do, and I suggest you steer clear of Mr. Tibbets if you value your time. He’s the operator at the far right. He takes at least five minutes to lift the elevator to my floor.”
“I imagine the stairs aren’t an option?” Daphne asks, a slight quaver in her voice.
“If you have the stamina,” Zane says, “then certainly—oh, dear.”
I follow Zane’s line of sight to where Daphne is. She’s lifted herself on her haunches, her back pressed into one of the corners. Her paws are splayed out on either side of her, and her little chest heaves with short sharp breaths.
Monty crouches beside the pine marten and extends a hand. “Come here, Daph.”
