“Shall I escort you?” Arwen asks.
She’s still tying her parcel, so I shake my head. “I can see the door from here. Thank you.”
I make my way to the back of the shop, trying not to stare too hard at the adorable raccoon fae but failing miserably. I’m so distracted, I almost bump into one of the tables. Skirting around it more carefully this time, I approach the back door.
“Edwina doesn’t really stand a chance against him, does she?” The voice is muted behind the slightly ajar door, but I recognize the flat feminine tone as belonging to Daphne.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” says a male voice. That must be Mr. Phillips. “Today is only her first day. I think more will come to see her once word spreads that she’s not fully absent from the tour.”
I beam at his vote of confidence in me. I reach for the handle but hesitate as Daphne speaks again.
“Yes, but he’s already had a head start. Mr. Fletcher is making his decision based on sales during the tour, isn’t he? That’s what Sandy in marketing said.”
“He is,” Mr. Phillips says, “and I do believe total sales might be in Mr. Haywood’s favor by the end if today’s turnout is indicative of future signings. But there’s also a choice involved on their end. Mr. Haywood may not want to publish three more poetry books. You’ve heard the way he talks about hisgrand and most illustrious art, that which can neither be forced nor tamed, but danced with like the wind and a blade of grass, or whatever it is he says.”
I’d take pleasure in his mocking tone if I wasn’t so confused over their subject matter. What is this about a decision my publisher is making?
“He’s expressed great interest in publishing more books with Fletcher-Wilson,” Daphne says.
“He has?”
“Do you pay attention to anything?”
“When I must.” I can hear the smile in Mr. Phillip’s voice. Then he takes on a more serious tone. “Maybe Miss Danforth doesn’t want to live in Faerwyvae.”
My heart leaps at the mention of my name again, but I’m more confused than ever.
“She’d have to live here?” Daphne says.
“For at least a year. It’s the best way to take advantage of the marketing budget that will come with the contract. More tours. More events. Besides, Mr. Fletcher wants any subsequent books we publish of hers to be set in modern-day Faerwyvae, and therefore factually accurate. A year of research would do her good.”
“I have to agree with that. Why did everyone inThe Governess and the Faehave fangs and drink blood? Is that really what they think of us in Bretton?”
I internally wince. Daphne isn’t wrong about that inaccuracy. How was I to know better?
“Did you not know?” comes a voice beside my ear.
I jump so high, I’m surprised my soul didn’t leave my body. Turning, I find William Haywood behind me. How he snuck up so silently, I haven’t a clue.
“What are you doing here?” My voice is a furious whisper as I unceremoniously shove him by the arm until he moves away from the door. I don’t want Daphne and Mr. Phillips to know I overheard their conversation.
“Ah, you didn’t know.” He doesn’t bother to whisper like me.
“Did I not know about what? That…that fae don’t have fangs? It was a creative choice, and I stand by it?—”
“The contract,” he says, and my mouth snaps shut. “One of us will be offered a covetable contract based on our sales performance during the tour.Onlyone of us.”
I frown. “That can’t be true. Mr. Fletcher said he’s open to more book proposals from me if they’re about fae characters.”
“This isn’t just any contract. This is a three-book deal with a massive advance and a significant marketing push over the next year. They’ve never offered a contract like this before and I daresay they won’t offer one like it again until they’ve tested whether it bears fruit. The offer was in your hands until you were late and nearly botched your tour.”
I blink at him, nausea writhing in my gut at the thought of what I was nearly given and might have already lost. A three-book contract. A marketing push. Fletcher-Wilson is the primary publisher in Faerwyvae. If they’re offering a one-of-a-kind contract, this truly is a rare opportunity. And if what I overheard is true, I’d have the chance to live here if I’m offered it.
I haven’t considered whether I’d want to live in Faerwyvae, but with very little tying me down back home, I can’t help but be excited at the prospect. Not to mention my publishing advance is worth ten times more in Faerwyvae than it is in Bretton, thanks to the abysmal exchange rate. I could be rich!
And yet…
The contract is not yet mine.
