Revelle

The Ferris wheel operator fussed over Luxe’s comfort far longer than mine. By some miracle, she didn’t slap his too-eager hands. But I suppose Luxe was used to all sorts of attention.

Finally, he let her be, flipping his controls to lift us up a few yards so Millie, Trevor, and Roger could climb into the next bucket. Alone with Luxe, I tried to shift so I didn’t encroach on her space, but the cart was too small, and my knees kept bumping hers.

She turned to me, her eyes glowing with excitement. And even though my Effigen drink had been a bit of a dud, even though the weight of what I needed to tell her was heavy enough to break the Ferris wheel, that smile was my own personal elixir.

“You’re having fun,” she declared, looking pleased with herself.

“So are you.” The wheel turned, lifting us farther over the operator’s head. “For once.”

“I have fun all the time.”

“Liar.” Beautiful, beautiful liar.

The breeze was cooler up here. Luxe pulled at her sweater, and I helped her adjust it, fighting the urge to wrap my arm around her.

“I haven’t seen much of you this week.” She kept her gaze trained on the treetops.

I was a terrible friend. First, I had nearly kissed her, and then, after she confided in me, I’d disappeared.

And, of course, my parents had murdered her mother.

I’d tell her later. Coming here, with her cousins, was on her list of things she’d do with the summer do-over Dewey had inadvertently given us, and I wasn’t going to ruin it for her. Not yet.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll explain everything soon, but it’s been a strange week.”

“You can say that again.” She peered down at Millie and Trevor entering the next cart. “How’s Roger? I heard Nana had Margaret in her office.”

“Hard to tell. He hasn’t breathed a word about it since. But the way he looked at her?” I shook my head. “I’ve never seen him look at anyone that way.”

Luxe’s smile was sad. “They were so perfect together. She got Roger to start taking himself seriously, and he always had her laughing. Because she grew up in the Night, she wasn’t fazed by his Fun House work. Not until the same customer started asking for him every night, crafting twisted fantasies for Roger to bring to life. She was worried, and probably a little jealous. They bickered about it until . . . well, you know.”

My hands curled into fists. “Until the jealous bastard cornered Roger and threw a lit gasoline rag in his face.”

He’d spent an entire month in the hospital recovering and left with a bill large enough to bankrupt his family for the season. Afterward, he could no longer stomach the Fun House, not when some of the customers wanted to incorporate his scars, his pain, into their fantasies.

The night’s merriment winked out of her whiskey eyes. “Is that what he told you?”

“Roger said the customer wanted to ruin him. To make him undesirable to Margaret or anyone else. That backfired, of course. I’ve seen girls in bars stroking those scars.”

All the color drained from Luxe’s face. “That’s not what happened.”

“But the scars . . .” Those were burns; I knew that from St. Douglas’s. Punishment by fire was rare, even for the friars, but once, a boy five days into his first fast had reached into a scalding pot in search of food. His scars weren’t so different from Roger’s.

Unless . . . Strattori magic.

My hand flew to my mouth. “The bastard went after Margaret.”

Luxe nodded grimly.

“Jesus Christ.” The pain Roger must have felt, first in seeing Margaret suffer, and then having that suffering transferred to him. “Strattori magic can be a curse, can’t it?”

She scoffed. “Strattori magic didn’t drive Roger’s customer so mad with jealousy that he waited outside the bakery, lit a gasoline rag on fire, and threw it in Margaret’s face. And Strattori magic didn’t curse Margaret with a lifetime of regret for letting Roger unburden her of unfathomable pain. She can’t even stand to look at any of us anymore.”

Christ. With that sort of guilt, no wonder their relationship hadn’t survived.

“Love is the curse,” Luxe said. “Not magic.”

I gave her a funny look. “You can’t blame love.”

“Why not?” She arched a single brow. “Love is useless.”

“Useless! You don’t mean that.”

“Love poisons the minds of otherwise sane people. It’s the worst kind of drug.”

“You love your family,” I pointed out.

She flicked her wrist. “That’s different. Romantic love is the lie. Trust me. I sell it every night.”

She was being purposefully obtuse. “That’s not love; that’s lust.”

“Yet the customers love it.”

I gaped at her, which only made her smile grow. And even though she was goading me, I couldn’t let it go, couldn’t allow Luxe Revelle to resign herself to a loveless life.

With the bravery only an Effigen drink could provide, I scooted toward her, the cart rocking as I leaned so close I could taste her minty breath on each inhale. “So you mean to tell me, right now, while you’re alone on a Ferris wheel with a not-so-bad-looking guy, you feel nothing?”

Her breath caught, the tiniest sound. “Absolutely nothing.”

She didn’t move away. Emboldened, I wrapped two fingers around her slight wrist, pressing them against her racing pulse. “Liar.”

The Ferris wheel turned higher, carrying us to the apex, the glittering lights of Charmant stretching over the island. To our right, the ocean faded into the black mist of night.

“Even if I felt . . . something”—her husky voice caught on the last word, sending a thrill to my core as she leaned closer—“Dewey wouldn’t approve.”

My teeth ground together. “He doesn’t own you.”

“I know. I just don’t think he likes to share.”

“And what do you want?”

There it was: the only variable in this equation that mattered. But could she truly answer it before knowing what my family had done to hers?

Her teeth pulled her bottom lip as she bit back her words. I shouldn’t have wanted to kiss her. Not with Effigen drinks surging through both of us, the heady rush of the night sky twinkling around us, those perfect lips having just uttered his name. Not when she was only being kind because she was trying to cheer me up.

Who was I kidding? She didn’t just pity me, and I didn’t just fancy her. Something was happening between us, something that could no longer be ignored.

Something my past could ruin before it had a chance to bloom.

I tucked a windblown curl beneath her jeweled hair comb. Her pulse thrashed between my fingers, wild and unbound. “What do you want?” I repeated, this time more softly.

“To take him down.” The fire in her eyes could have burned the entire island. “To charm him into a docile mayor who won’t hurt me or anyone I love. To stop his family from targeting mine, stop George from tormenting us, stop the entire Chronos family from ruining my family’s chance at prosperity, for once. I want to take them all down.”

“Then let’s do it.”

Her fingers tangled with mine, sending a thrill right to my core. That first kiss had been so mind-blowing, and back then, I didn’t even know how fiercely she loved, how hard she worked to keep her family safe.

Kissing Luxe with Trevor nearby would be careless. Reckless. But neither of us looked away, the pull of gravity between us growing, growing still.

The Ferris wheel surged forward, dropping us so abruptly that I yelped like a puppy as I grabbed the bar. Laughter burst from Luxe, guffaws so deep, she struggled to catch her breath.

I was so, so suave.

“You didn’t tell me you’re afraid of heights!”

“It, ah, didn’t come up.” I slowly relaxed into the seat, that almost-kiss so potent I hardly noticed the distance to the ground.

The sun teased beneath where the horizon met the ocean. Not quite day, but no longer night. The weak light silhouetted the four Revelles as they did cartwheels in the surf, booze and egos egging them on as their gymnastics grew more absurd.

Trys and I huddled together by the dunes, watching them splash about the surf. Trevor snored loudly at our feet, his baby’s bonnet tied awkwardly around his chin.

“Here.” She handed me the nearly empty bottle of wine, her sailor cap crooked on her head. She’d wooed a US Navy skipper for it, which had earned her fifth place. Luxe and her Ferris wheel operator cap placed fourth, while Colette and her bejeweled cowboy hat took third, which she’d aggressively protested. When Trevor reappeared with a lace baby’s bonnet, I thought Millie might break a rib from laughing. She had scored a very tall white top hat, while I’d managed to convince a mainlander to trade my fedora for her floral bonnet, but none of us could beat Roger and that outlandish fruit tower.

His dare had been simple: sunrise on the beach.

I shivered as the wind whipped off the waves, carrying their laughter. Luxe’s skirt was soaked to her knees, and Roger had fallen on his ass so often he was drenched. “Maybe I should grab some blankets from the barn.”

“You and I both know you’re not going anywhere.” Trys nodded toward where Luxe ran along the surf, kicking seawater at Roger. I’d never seen this smile of hers. Not only free of her pain, but just . . . free. “It’s worse than Betty, isn’t it?”

How little I’d known of the world when I’d met Betty. Her qualifications were woefully simple: she paid attention to me. But Luxe? She was extraordinary—and utterly unavailable. “Betty who?”

“Oh, Jame-o.” Trys leaned against me. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I know you don’t care for her—”

“That’s not true.” She played with the sand, letting it slip between her fingers. “I like that she’s scrappy. And she’s loyal to her family, which I respect. I just wish she weren’t perfectly poised to break your heart.”

They shrieked with laughter as Colette walked on her hands, managing to stay upright as a wave lapped against her face. Beside me, Trys’s shoulders shook with her silent amusement.

“As if you’re any better,” I pointed out. “I see the way you look at Colette.”

She masked her smile. “No comment. So Luxe and my brother—that’s not real, right?”

Dangerous territory, though it was no secret that Dewey had bartered liquor in exchange for Luxe’s support in the election.

“She’d do anything for her family. And they really need booze.”

“After everything Dewey’s sacrificed for this election, and for Luxe, I daresay he’s committed.” With her head bent, Trys traced a circle in the sand. This was the first she’d spoken of her brother’s aging.

He was committed, all right. Committed enough to propose.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” I said. “It didn’t feel like my information to share, but I’m still sorry.”

She shrugged. “When are you going to tell them about your parents?”

I had been planning on telling Luxe tonight, but watching her laugh with her cousins, I couldn’t bring myself to ruin it. Not when they were just finding their way back to each other. “Tomorrow. I should tell Roger first.”

Trys rested her head against my shoulder. “No matter what happens, we can always hop on the ferry earlier than planned. On to the next adventure, okay?”

I heard the words she didn’t utter: This can’t end well. As if I didn’t know.

“Here.” She reached into her pocket. “Hold out your hand.”

I did as Trys asked, and she dropped something cool into it.

My mother’s brooch.

“Where did you . . . ? How did you—”

“I went back and made a trade with Mag.” She avoided my imploring stare.

“But how? What did you give her?”

Trys lifted a shoulder. “Nothing important.”

“Trys.” I waited until she faced me. “Tell me.”

She exhaled through her teeth. “Okay, fine. I stopped by my parents’ and sat through an entire lecture. But I didn’t take a single gem from them,” she added quickly. “I snuck into my old jewelry box and found something the old lady couldn’t resist.”

Stunned, I sat there, staring at the brooch. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

But I could. She’d traveled for me. Faced her past for me. Before she could resist, I scooped her into a big hug. “Thank you.”

She groaned but didn’t swat me away.

Millie sang a raunchy tune in falsetto, using an empty wine bottle as a microphone.

“Did they drink more than us?” I asked.

“They must have.”

Colette returned first, seawater dripping from her hair, her clothes. “Jesus, it’s cold! Aren’t you going to hug me?”

“No way.” Trys scooted away from her. “You fools chose to get wet, not us.”

Ignoring her protests, Colette wrapped her dripping arms around Trys’s neck. “Afraid of a little water?”

“I didn’t say I was afraid.” Trys remained perfectly still as Colette leaned closer. “See?”

“Are you sure? Because it feels like you’re shaking.”

“Only because it’s freezing out here.” Trys met Colette’s fierce gaze.

Lightning quick, Colette kissed her. A peck on the lips, a dare and a test.

I turned to Roger, whose grin already stretched from ear to ear.

Trys wrapped her arms around Colette’s neck and kissed her deeply. Millie and Roger whistled and cheered. Luxe’s eyes found mine, her tired smile a mirror of my own. Even if she felt the same, I’d never be able to kiss her like this, in front of our friends. Not with Dewey in the picture.

Breaking the kiss, Colette wrapped her arms around Trys. “See? It’s not so cold.”

“Not for us. We Revelles were practically raised by the ocean.” Roger threw himself onto the ground and waved his arms to make a sand angel. The wet sand clung to him like breading on a chicken cutlet.

Millie flopped beside him. “Remember when our mothers used to bring a bar of soap and wash us right here?”

I didn’t move. Didn’t take one goddamned breath.

“A bar of soap and a bottle of wine.” Untangling herself from Trys, Colette lowered herself next to Millie, scooting close. “I don’t think I had a proper shower until I was ten.”

A smile played on Millie’s lips. “They sure knew how to have fun.”

The three of them lay there, Luxe lingering by their feet as if she still wasn’t sure if she should join them. Her eyes found mine, and my chest squeezed. Go, I mouthed to her.

Carefully, she sank into the sand beside them.

Millie stared at the stars. “Those summer nights were the best.”

“They were the best.” For once, Roger didn’t filter the longing from his voice.

The beach grew silent, save Trevor’s soft snores and the waves lapping the shore. In the faint glow of dawn, their solemn faces seemed younger.

“I miss them.” Colette’s voice was heartbreakingly quiet.

Roger sighed. “Me too.”

“Me too,” Millie whispered.

Luxe’s eyes squeezed shut as she wrestled with her own grief.

I’m in love with her.

The realization hit me like Cupid’s arrow, right through my chest. Damnit, it was true—completely hopeless, but true. I loved her when she was brave onstage, even more when she was brave offstage. But most of all, I loved her now, with her family. Truly with them, and not wielding her secrets like a shield.

I loved her, and I’d never be able to tell her. Not when she couldn’t let herself feel anything for me. Soon she wouldn’t even be able to look at me without thinking of her mother’s murderers.

Luxe stared at the stars above, unmoving, save the pinkie she hooked around Colette’s.