I’m not sure if these scalders had anything to do with Other Elodie’s murder, but I’m feeling pretty tempted to murderthemright now.
As I will my hands to unclench, the term Discount Void Buffet sinks deeper into my mind—and loosens a fragment of memory.
In my double’s notes, the ones that included dates and times… Weren’t a lot of them labeled DVB?
My breath catches in my throat. Maybe Other Elodie was using secretive upper-crust slang to obscure what location she was talking about. All those notes could be about Beacon Prep. Ithink the photos of the car on the nearby street lined up with a few of those entries.
An itch races through my limbs to hurtle straight out of here and dig out her hidden tablet so I can look over the notes with my new frame of reference.
I inhale deeply to steady myself through the surge of exhilaration. My investigating is paying off—but I might find out even more. I’m definitely not going to be able to use my disguise again if I make a scene over my first small victory.
I keep grabbing drinks and books and whatever else the club members ask for, counting down the minutes until I think I can reasonably slip out. When one of the older gentlemen demands that I lay out napkins and tarts for a “meeting” he and his companions are going to have in one of the smaller upper rooms, I trek upstairs with a silver tray that reeks of polish.
In my hurry to return, I almost crash into Byron as I step back into the hall.
I scramble away with a hasty muttering. “Sorry, sorry.”
He holds up his hands. “No harm done.”
His voice is even enough, but I can’t help noticing that his expression still looks haunted. Possibly more so as his gaze takes me in, even in my illusionary disguise.
My heart gives one of those annoying tugs, and the words tumble out before I can catch them. “Are you all right?”
It’s not the sort of question the club staff is probably supposed to ask their clientele—unless a guy is literally bleeding out on the rug or something. It’s clear we exist to serve but not to pry.
Byron opens his mouth, and I prepare for him to tell me off. Instead, he hesitates.
Then he rubs his hand over the short coils of his hair. “Just a little distracted. I’m the one who almost ran into you.”
I bob my head meekly, the way I’d imagine an Eclipse attendant generally would. “I should have been watching where I was going better.”
“No, really. Not your fault at all.” He pauses again, still watching me with a small furrow digging into his forehead. “And not the first mistake I made today. I… botched part of one of my assignments at the academy.”
He says the words so haltingly I suspect he’d rather not admit the error at all—but he is. Some part of him must want to get his worries off his chest.
And I know just how much Byron can worry about the smallest of mistakes.
I offer him a smile I mean more than any I’ve put on since I entered the club. “I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t recover from.”
“Oh, of course.” He grimaces. “That doesn’t mean it’s going to be pleasant hearing the reaction when I get home. I guess I’m delaying the inevitable, hiding out here.”
The wryness of his tone doesn’t fool me. It winds around my heart alongside the renewed prickle in my palm.
As privileged as his life was, I also know how suffocated my Byron felt before he detached himself from his family to live with me. This version of him has spent an extra three years shouldering their expectations.
But isn’t he better off this way, despite the pressures? How bright is his future going to be in my reality, where he’s let himself fall so far in society’s eyes?
The only thing I can think to say is, “No one’s perfect. And no one should criticize you because you’re not.”
Something shifts in Byron’s face, like he’s peering at me even harder. His attention hooks inside me with a stronger tug.
He manages a laugh. “Try telling that to my parents. But thank you.”
His hand comes up to pat my shoulder—absently, as if he hasn’t even noticed he’s going to do it. I tense to pull back, but his glove has already grazed my shirt.
A wobble passes through the layer of magic disguising me.
Byron’s stance goes rigid, his hand freezing against my arm. Before I can decide how to react, he pushes closer, the warmth of his body radiating into me.
