He pushed his fingers into hers, guiding her off the wall with a tug. She teetered on her own two feet before him, their hands threaded tight, the floor beneath her solid as rock.
In that moment, she realized she wanted very badly for him to kiss her.
He didn’t, of course. He only gave her a feeble smile and said, “There. You’re wide-awake.”
A knock sounded at the door. They sprang apart as though electrocuted.
“Viv?” It wasn’t the manager, but Hudson. He sounded annoyed. “If you were planning to stick me with the bill, there’s more creative ways to do it.”
Vivienne squeezed past Thomas and undid the latch, tugging the door wide. Hudson stood with his forearm braced against the frame, his brow balanced on the backs of his long, elegant fingers. He straightened at the sight of them, flattening his lapels.
“Interesting. You know,somedates would find this offensive.”
Vivienne shot him a daggered glance and made her way back toward the dining room, where the lunch rush had just begun to clear. The businessmen had paid their bill and gone. No frost rimed the windows. No mist shrouded the floors. Narrowly dodging a passing waitress, Hudson fell into step alongside Vivienne. Thomas took up the rear, his hands in his pockets and his gaze walled off.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
“I’m all in, by the way,” said Hudson as they pushed out of the restaurant and onto the covered alfresco terrace. “You come through at the gala, and I’ll get you what you need.”
Her heart gave an awful pinch. This was the plan. It had always been the plan. Everything was going her way. And yet, when she held out her hand for Hudson to shake, her fingers trembled. He folded her hand in his, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.
Into her ear, he whispered, “Whatever stupid thing it is you’re doing, I sincerely hope you don’t get yourself killed.”
The following day brought a summer storm, blown in from the east with a hurricane’s fury. Thomas spent the morning holed up in the guest room, poring over the results of yet another aptitude test. He’d taken dozens over the past several weeks. Tests for language and vocabulary, numbers and data. Pattern recognition and reading comprehension and mechanical reasoning.
None of it told him who he was, or what he was supposed to be.
Once, when he was eleven, his uncle took him on a hike to the top of Melrose Rock. Thrilled at the prospect of adventure, Thomas had packed his prized compass. He’d cradled it the whole walk, watching the needle wobble without stopping—growing increasingly furious when it didn’t point due north.
It’s the magnet, his uncle finally told him.It’s not strong enough.
Frustrated, he’d dashed it against a rock, and then felt immediately terrible. It had been a Christmas gift from his mother—one she’d likely saved to buy. He’d fought tears the whole way home, the shattered compass sitting heavy as a boulder in his pocket.
Maybe that was all he was—a broken compass, doomed to wobble in place. Maybe he didn’t know how to find due north. Maybe he’d wander, directionless, until he was old and bitter and angry at the world, just like his father.
He opened his laptop and found another email waiting for him.
Thomas,
This is kind of a strange ask, but could you give me a call? I’ve got a question for you. It’s important. I’ll explain on the phone. I’ve left my number below.
—C
Intrigued by what the Priory’s president could possibly need from him, he reached for his phone. As he did, a text came through. The contact flickered across his screen:Princess.He slid it open, his stomach tying itself into a knot.
Princess
Don’t make me late.
Thomas
Wouldn’t dream of it.
The email forgotten, he headed off to shower and change.
The ride to New Haven was silent as usual, save for the hiss of rain against the glass and the rhythmic screech of windshield wipers. They didn’t discuss the restaurant, or the way he’d found her clutching her own throat, or how small and cold her hand had felt in his.
Upon arrival, she snatched the sole umbrella and dashed into the studio, leaving Thomas behind to brave the elements alone. Soaked through to the bone, he sat in the lobby and watched her piece together a dance through the cracked open door.
