Reluctantly, she leaves her corner and lets Monty lift her in his arms. As he stands and cradles her against his chest, she tucks her face into his jacket. After a few moments, she pulls her head back and looks up at him. “You sort of…smell good.”
He snorts a laugh. “Why must you sound surprised? I do bathe, you know.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” she mutters and shoves her face back in his jacket.
The elevator ride is long indeed, and I must admit its charm wears off by the end. But once the door opens, my awe returns. A wide, luxurious space greets us, with the same glittering black walls and onyx floors that the lobby had. Chandeliers stretch from the ceiling, but none are lit. Instead, the noon sunlight fills the room, shining through the row of enormous windowsthat comprise the far wall. My gaze shifts to the decor. Several different living areas have been arranged, though no walls divide them, only silk screens or just the layout of the furnishings. There’s a gilded fireplace with a tea table and pair of indigo wingback chairs, a dinner table before a wall of painted vases on display, several divans, an enormous gold harp, and a glossy black pianoforte.
“Welcome to my home,” Zane says, strolling to the center of the space with their arms out wide.
I think my eyes might fall out of my head. “This whole place is your apartment?”
“Yes, and I should confess something now since you brought it up earlier. There is only one bed.”
“I knew it,” I say under my breath, and my eyes briefly dart to William at my periphery.
Zane chuckles. “But I have plenty of couches, cots, and blankets. Make yourselves at home. Eat. Relax. Rest. Then tonight, I’ll show you my city.”
After evening falls,I can hardly tear my gaze away from the view outside Zane’s windows. Our surroundings are aglow with electric bulbs, bright marquees, and the light from neighboring buildings. The streets far below are even busier than they were during the day, swarming with pedestrians, performers, and coaches.
Zane sidles up next to me. “That’s Halley Street, the busiest and most chaotic street in Lumenas. The most famous theaters on the isle are just a few blocks away.”
No wonder it’s so vibrant here. “That’s incredible.”
“Ready to see it for yourself?” they ask. “Once everyone wakes up, that is.”
I cast a glance at where our companions doze on the furniture around us. Monty is slouched in one of the chairs by the fire while William naps on a divan, hands laced on his chest, a book covering his face. Daphne is…somewhere. My grin spreads wide as I return my attention to Zane. “I can’t wait.”
“I already know where we should go, but…” Zane assesses my attire through slitted lids. I shrink a little under their scrutiny, as I don’t look nearly as impressive as them. Zane is outfitted in wide-legged slacks and another flowing robe-style top—red silk this time, decorated with white cherry blossoms that are so delicate they must be hand-painted. Matching blossoms twine around their antlers and weave through their russet waves. A spattering of glitter adorns their cheeks, dancing with their pale freckles.
Meanwhile, I’m dressed in a simple blouse and walking skirt. I changed from my travel attire after washing up in the largest, most luxurious bathtub I’ve ever had the pleasure of using, but I haven’t done anything else to enhance my appearance. No cosmetics. No fancy updo.
Zane winks. “Come with me.”
I follow them from the wall of windows. I take only a few steps before Daphne drops from the ceiling, nearly startling me out of my wits. Was she napping in one of the chandeliers?
“What are you up to?” she asks, stretching her front legs with a yawn, her curved back arching toward the sky.
“You can come too,” Zane says, waving us forward.
We enter the bedroom area, partitioned by tall screens. Past the bed, vanity, and dressing table, are another set of screens. Beyond them stand several racks filled with an array of clothing in every color I could imagine. Everything from ballgowns to frock coats to articles I have no name for hang from theracks. My eyes snag on glittering gold sequins, iridescent silks, impossibly fine lace, and gorgeous brocade.
Daphne darts from rack to rack. “Are these for your performances?”
“Some of them,” Zane says, approaching a rack with the most varied collection of articles. “Others are gifts from designers. They send them to me, hoping I’ll wear them to an event or performance.”
I join Zane at the rack as they lift a slim black dress covered entirely in fringe.
They hold it up toward me as if imagining it on my figure. With a shake of their head, they return the article to the rack. “Some of the ensembles don’t fit me. Antlers, you know.”
I assess Zane’s clothing with fresh eyes. No wonder they favor the robe style with sashes or other frontal closures. I never considered how difficult it might be to get dressed with antlers.
Zane lifts the hem of their trousers, revealing toned calves that end in hooves. “I don’t wear shoes either, and yet…”
They stroll to a wall beside one of the racks and pull a crystalline knob. A drawer slides from the wall, filled with leather oxfords. Then they pull another drawer out from beneath it, this one filled with silk dancing slippers. Another contains low-heeled, lace-up ankle boots like I favor.
Daphne hops into the drawer of dancing slippers and assesses a pair in yellow silk adorned with pink roses. “Designers just give you these without considering whether you can wear them?”
With a wry grin, Zane shrugs. “I think they just want an excuse to gift me things. If I like their style, I commission custom clothing from them later, so it’s a win-win. It also provides me with ample gifts to send my friends home with whenever I have guests.”
