I don’t think my eyes can go any wider. “Your best friend comes from a royal family too?”
“Sort of, but not really. It’s a long story.”
“I thought you said he was a baker.”
“He is. Well, he’s a baker and the owner of one of the most popular bakery chains in Faerwyvae. And the lord of Blackwood Estate.”
I sink against my seat cushion, mind still whirling. There is one question that hounds my mind more than any other. I hold his gaze and speak through my teeth. “Is she the one? Your first love?—”
“No, Briony Rose and I never had any love between us. Our engagement was arranged by our parents but neither of us wanted it. That’s why I encouraged her and Thorne’s attachment when I sensed the spark between them.”
My anger cools. His explanation cuts my theory in two. So the bride is not the woman who hurt him—and whom he hurt in return. She’s merely a former fiancée from a loveless engagement who fell for his friend. It sounds rather awkward, but it’s a better situation than the one I was imagining a moment before. If I forget about the whole former princess part.
“First love,” Angela says, brow furrowed. “Brother, you’ve never been in love before, have you?” When he doesn’t answer, she adds, “You know, I wouldn’t call what you did for Thorne and Briony encouragement. Youtormentedthem. You were so annoying.”
The tension finally leaves Monty’s expression. His lips curl into a grin. “I was incredibly annoying to them. Briony won’t likely have the best things to relay about me.” He says the last part to me. Then I feel something soft against my ankle. It’s the tip of his shoe gently grazing me from ankle to shin, the gesture apologetic. Well, he should be sorry for not preparing me sooner for what’s in store, but at least I know now.
Angela gives me a somber nod. “I can only imagine the anecdotes Briony could share. You should have heard the idiocy leaving my dear brother’s lips back then. He was alllet’s turn our engagement into a gameandlet’s see how well my bride can ride,and he was absolutely speaking in innuendo.”
Monty pinches his brow. “Good God, Angie, please don’t repeat the horrible things I do or say.”
“Then I’d be struck mute when trying to talk about you, wouldn’t I?” Angela immediately breaks into tittering laughter, pleased with her own insult.
I can’t help smiling too. Despite how much Monty coddles his sister and treats her like an innocent girl, it’s clear she’s clever. She may have a heavy dose of the naiveté that’s characteristic of highborn young women, due to the propriety she was raised with, but she doesn’t seem fragile.
“Just wait until you see how he acts around Thorne and Briony,” she says. “He’s like a completely different person.”
I arch a brow at Monty as I lift my teacup from its saucer and take a sip. “A different person, hmm?”
He says nothing, only holds my gaze as he sips from his own cup.
Perhaps I’ll get my wish about seeing the secret sides of Monty after all.
PART III
LUST AND THE ADVANTAGES OF A FULL-LENGTH MIRROR
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MONTY
We arrive at the Cyllene Hotel by noon the next day. It’s a towering building of pale marble that looks more like a palace than a hotel, with several floors lined with long balconies and ending in towering turrets. Surrounded by trees and rolling hills, with only a massive garden in between, it’s just as private as a palace too. At first, I’m confused about how such a widely renowned hotel could be located in a small countryside town like Antilia Falls, with hardly more than a modest market square to its name. Where do guests find entertainment? Recreation? Where do they dine? Buy clothing?
It all makes sense as soon as we step through the front doors. We halt in place and take it all in.
Daphne gasps in awe from beside me, as does my sister. I don’t blame them. The hotel’s interior is a sight to behold. It feels more like we’ve stepped into a new world.
The walls are stucco and marble in warm pastel tones, the high ceiling enchanted to mimic the perfect sunny outdoor sky. The floors above are tiered, each boasting a façade of arched windows and faux crenelated rooftops to give the impression of a town built on a hillside, with walkways interspersed to connect opposite sides. A canal filled with crystal-clear aquamarine water weaves through the first floor of the hotel, with arched bridges that cross it and storefronts that line it featuring everything from cafés to galleries. No wonder the hotel is so successful despite its remote location. Everything one could want while on holiday is here in one building.
Glittering sprites and tiny birds flutter overhead, landing on balconies or the multitude of potted plants. The atmosphere reminds me so much of the Solar Court that I can’t help wondering if this was, in fact, a palace at one time, long before the war ended. Back then, all the fae courts were relegated to the north. The land we stand on now may belong to the Star Court, but three decades ago, it was Solar.
This wouldn’t be the first time one of the abandoned palaces of old was turned into a hotel. Smart business, honestly.
“I’d give anything to paint this,” Daphne says, clasping her hands at her heart as her eyes flit from one impressive sight to the next.
With my hands tucked in my trouser pockets, I lean in close to her ear. “We’ve hardly stepped inside. I’m sure there’s more to admire. Besides, haven’t you grown immune to such impressive locations after The Heartbeats Tour?”
She shakes her head. “I could never grow immune to art. Especially in this body. Beautiful things look different through these eyes. Theyfeeldifferent, here.” She rubs her chest and swivels her face to mine, eyes still wide with wonder. “Everything feels different.”
