MONTY
That was fucking close. I can’t believe how much I just gave away. I had no intention of voicing my hatred for my father, even though my confession barely scratched the surface, but I couldn’t help it. When Araminta asked why I couldn’t marry Daphne, and I saw the flush of Daph’s cheeks, the way the question flustered her, the brief hope in her eyes, I wanted Daphne to know. That if I ever push her away, if she ever wonders why our friendship can’t be more, it’s not because of her. It could never be because of her.
It’s me. It’s my family. It’s a mess I’d never wish upon her or anyone.
Though now that Daphne has resumed painting and my nerves have settled, I question why I didn’t take the opportunity to reiterate the boundary between us. I could have said I can never marry Daphne because we’re just friends. Or I could never feel that way about her. I’m shocked I took the harder path—the path of truth—instead of falling back on my usual patterns.
How curious…
Night has fallen by the time Daphne deems our painting session complete.
“Thank fuck.” I release a grateful groan, shaking out my arms and legs. Most of my limbs have lost feeling, even after the intermittent breaks Daphne allowed me. I roll my head from side to side, resulting in several audible cracks.
“I’m glad I’m not that kind of model,” Araminta mutters.
“When is our next courtship lesson?” Daphne says as she cleans her brushes. “Tomorrow? Next weekend?”
I don my shirt and start doing up the buttons. My stomach drops at her question. “I might be out of town next weekend.”
“Where are you going?”
“My best friend is getting married,” I say, putting on my waistcoat and leaving it open. I seek out my small silver case and remove a cigarillo from inside. “Though I haven’t decided if I’ll attend.”
Daphne sets down her brushes and approaches me. “Your best friend…you mean the baker? I remember you mentioning him on the tour.”
“Yes, the baker. He and his fiancée are the match I’m proudest of making. I’m supposed to be his best man and escort my sister so she can attend as well.”
“Best man is an important role, isn’t it? You must go. Where is the wedding?”
“The Cyllene Hotel in the Star Court.”
Daphne’s mouth falls open. “Are you serious? TheCyllene Hotel? As in the Cyllene Hotel with the ballroom that has the domed ceiling that perfectly replicates a meteor shower without any magic, only a human painter’s mortal talents?”
Ah, I can understand her awe now. “That’s the one.”
She stares at me with an irked expression. “I…I’m so jealous. I’m experiencing such vast envy I sort of want to punch you.”
“Punch him!” Araminta says in support, clapping her hands together.
Daphne takes a step closer. “You have an opportunity to not only serve as your best friend’s best man but to witness one of the greatest artistic marvels on the isle?”
“I have my reasons?—”
“Take me.”
I blink at her. Before I can reply, she speaks again, eyes wide with fervor.
“Take me with you, Monty, I’m begging you. It’s not just that I’m desperate to see the ballroom with my own eyes, but the location is the perfect background for my next cover. I’ve envisioned my piece being set in a ballroom, but the ones here in Jasper don’t evoke the right atmosphere. I need to paint the Cyllene Ballroom. To sketch it, at the very least. Please take me with you.”
“Sorry,” Araminta says in a lazy tone, “I can’t go. I have another modeling job next weekend.”
“No one invited you,” Daphne snaps. “When are you going home, anyway?”
Araminta stretches out on the settee, her legs hooked over one of the arms. “I don’t have a home yet, and I’m tired of sleeping at the office now that I’ve grown accustomed to this seelie lifestyle. Just let me stay the night. Please? I’ll get my own place soon.”
“Fine,” Daphne grumbles, then returns her attention to me. She wrings her hands, wincing. “I guess I shouldn’t scold Ari for inviting herself to places when I’m doing the same thing. But can Ipleaseinvite myself, Monty? Please, please, please?”
Did she always sound so cute when saying my name? Blazing hell, when she looks at me like that, I find it impossible to care about the repercussions.
