Characters on a Stage
Winter Young had been to enough post-concert after-parties to last him a lifetime—but even he was fairly certain he’d never been to one quite like this.
A couple hours after his performance had ended, he found himself walking with Penelope down a flight of stairs curving along the inside of a massive cylinder that descended underground from a private, guarded entrance alongside the Thames River.
“It was called Brunel’s Thames Tunnel, actually,” Penelope explained to him as they went, one of her hands restlessly tucking her hair behind her ears. Her bejeweled hairpin glittered as her fingers brushed past it. “Some guy named Brunel and his son built the first tunnel to connect underground beneath a major river. Used to be for carriages, and then for trains. My father funded its restoration some years ago into an exhibition space.”
Her grip around his arm was tight and nervous, and now and then, he could feel her tremble. Her father wasn’t breathing down her neck here, but his presence still loomed in every detail of this party. Even so, it was the most talkative she’d been since they first met.
He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Sydney was behind him. It felt strange, knowing that none of his friends would be here. Dameon seemed unbothered, content to head into the city to partyon his own, but Leo had been unusually quiet after their performance, had watched Winter prepare to leave for the after-party behind the palace without a word.
“Is he feeling okay?” Winter had muttered to Claire as he stood before one of Eli’s cars.
“Don’t worry about your boys,” Claire had told him. “They’ll have their own fun.” Then she’d given him an encouragingwell done!look before sending him off.
Now only Sydney was heading down two steps behind him, her silver pants swishing against her legs in a shimmer of fabric with every move she made.
It made his heartbeat speed up. The shine in that outfit had distracted him more than a few times during his performance. Maybe Panacea had gone overboard with her look. When she’d caught him afterward and slipped her hotel crest pin in his pocket, he’d found himself skipping a beat in his answer, his tongue tripping all over itself.
“For your protection,” she’d said.
The pin must have been part of Panacea’s drop for them, which meant Sydney had collected the parcel successfully.
Then she’d cast him a sidelong smile before falling into step beside him. “Nice concert,” she’d added before looking away.
Winter’s gaze had darted to her, and then to the glittering sheen of her swaying pants. He’d opened his mouth, realized he had nothing coherent to say, and closed it promptly. She didn’t even bother looking at him—which was just as well. Better that she hadn’t seen the embarrassment on his face.
Now he forced his attention back to Penelope. “And did Brunel know how to transform his tunnel creation into a party as good as this?” he said.
“Almost,” Penelope replied, holding her hand over her mouth to hide a bashful smile. “Apparently it made a better party spot than a transportsystem. I hear the grand opening had stalls with dancing monkeys and acrobats.”
Winter looked down as they made their way along the stairs. Well, the acrobats were definitely still here. Strips of bold yellow silks hung from the shaft’s ceiling, and twisted within them were lithe young figures twirling at various heights along either side of the metal stairway. Hanging with them were long, low chandeliers that cast a kaleidoscope of light and shadow against the shaft’s walls. The thud of music reverberated throughout the space, and when he looked skyward, he saw that a starry sky’s worth of crystal bulbs hung twinkling from the ceiling.
At the bottom of the stairs, they passed a fire-eater blowing out a line of flame through a hoop, eliciting gasps from his little cluster of onlookers. Shops and stalls were set up along the edges of the shaft leading in toward the former train tunnels; there were bar carts and food stations and tables lined with gold gift bags. Servers walked around with silver trays, bearing bite-sized samosas and savory pies, tiny cups of fries and dishes of dumplings drizzled with chili oil.
When he glanced again at Sydney, he noticed that she was doing a sweep of the space, her eyes flitting from one stand to another, a wary scowl on her face. As if she were just a typical bodyguard.
Winter twisted the snake ring idly on his finger. His eyes had been seeking her out constantly the entire evening. As his hand dropped back to his side, it knocked against the tiny vial of toxin sewn into a hidden part of his pocket. The suicide drink, a reminder of their mission. His breath hitched, and he tried to push it from his mind.
They stirred up a commotion as soon as they stepped down onto the shaft’s floor. Seconds later, a cluster had gathered around them in a ring, full of eager faces and outstretched hands waiting to be shaken. Cheers ofHappy Birthday!to Penelope. Winter hung back with her as she smiled graciously to each of their admirers and the circle around them grew larger.
“Winter Young?” one of them exclaimed at him.
Another smiled widely. “I’ve never seen a performance like that,” she breathed, her eyes fixated on him. “You’re going to have to teach us some of those moves on the dance floor.”
Penelope’s grip tightened around Winter’s arm as she gave the girl a mock frown. “Get your own superstar,” she said.
“Winter! Winter Young!”
His name echoed in a radius around him. Among them walked a few of Eli Morrison’s security guards, their massive presence calmly redirecting the growing crowd.
Winter sensed Sydney’s presence closer to his side. When he looked at her, she was nearly pressed against him, carefully watching the people approaching. She glared at one young man who got too near for comfort—then stepped between them and pushed the guest steadily back just by walking toward him. The man retreated with a look of confused offense in his eyes.
Winter wanted to laugh a little at the sight. If Sydney hadn’t become a secret agent, she really could have found a career in being an effective bodyguard.
They made their way out of the thronging cluster of people, security moving around them in an undulating circle.
“Your bodyguard just pushed away the Prince of Orange-Nassau,” Penelope told Winter with a scandalized grin.
