Revelle
: Chapter 27

We laid Trys on the cot and waited.

Her dark blouse rose and fell as her lungs struggled to fill with air. The soft whistling that accompanied each exhale was nothing like her thunderous snores. Too quiet.

According to Dr. Strattori, the next twenty-four hours were critical. If she didn’t wake by tomorrow night—election night—she might not wake at all.

“I know this isn’t the time,” Millie whispered to Colette, “but her pantsuit is fantastic.”

As Colette stroked Trys’s hand, she cracked a wilted smile, but her eyes didn’t leave Trys.

“It must be the pinstripes,” Millie continued. “I can’t pull off pinstripes. They make me look too—”

“Curvy?” Roger croaked, his voice like sandpaper. He’d been boarding one of Dewey’s new ferries when he heard about the fire and all the Revelles trapped inside. By the time he found us, his shirt was drenched with sweat, and his vocal cords ruined from yelling.

“Huh. I was going to say ‘fabulous.’”

My stitched-up shoulder hurt something awful as I sank into the hay. Dr. Strattori said the wound was clean, that I was lucky the bullet had only grazed me. She’d said it reluctantly, as if a dead mainlander wouldn’t be the worst outcome.

“Lucky” was not how I’d describe today’s events.

Millie filled a tin cup of water and handed it to Colette, who drank it absentmindedly. “Her cane burned in the fire.”

“I’ll steal one from the lost and found.” Roger rubbed his head, no sign of his usual efforts to protect his carefully styled hair.

“What lost and found?” Colette asked. “It’s gone. Every inch of the Big Tent is gone.”

Her words hung heavy over all of us.

“Do you think she’ll travel?” Millie asked softly.

If Trys did, today would cease to exist. For everyone but her, there’d be no memory of that sinister smoke cloud licking our heads, no heart-pounding fear. No Luxe on the beach. I always look for you. In every crowd, at every show, I always know exactly where you are.

“She won’t travel,” I said. “She won’t want to erase what her family did today. We need to remember it. All of us.”

“Well, I, for one, wouldn’t mind not losing everything in a fire and just taking Trys’s word on the whole ordeal.” With a sigh, Millie leaned against the barn wall.

Colette pushed Trys’s dark hair from her face. “The fire started four hours ago. Even if she woke and traveled right now, that’d be four hundred hours off her life, which is . . .”

“Sixteen days.” I winced. “Each hour is another four days.”

Millie blanched. “When you put it like that, I quite prefer our magic.”

“That’s the part I don’t understand.” Roger leaned forward, resting his long arms on his knees. “Why did Rose Effigen age rapidly? You’re sure that’s what you saw?”

As if I could forget her lying there, hair silvering, gray skin flaking away. “She looked just like Frank Chronos did in the alley.”

Millie shivered. “How positively awful.”

“How positively strange,” Colette said. “I’m sorry, Rog. I know you knew Rose.”

“She and Margaret are close. Were close.” With a groan, Roger pushed himself to his feet. “I’m going to see if the Effigens need anything. Or if anyone’s found George.”

He couldn’t sit still, not when he knew Margaret was suffering. Even after three years, it was so hard for him to stay away. “Do you want company?”

He shook his head. “Stay with Trys. If she wakes, replace me.”

A cold wind rattled the barn as Roger left. I shook off the blankets we kept over the hay and laid one over Trys, offering the other to Millie and Colette.

Millie pulled the scratchy wool over her and Colette’s shoulders. “Luxe got another one of her nosebleeds during the fire. And she was doing that weird crumpled-up face, like before she goes onstage. I swear to God, she was using her magic—but how?”

Colette scrunched her forehead. “And she closed her eyes and literally located Jamison. What the hell was that about?”

Two sets of sparkling eyes turned my way. I busied myself rotating my arm to test my injured shoulder, trying my best to appear casual.

Colette’s eyes narrowed. “You know something, don’t you?”

“Me?”

“Oh my God, he does know something!” Millie jumped to her feet, cornering me against the wall. “She has a secret, doesn’t she? Something with her magic.”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“You know we could just charm you into the truth,” Colette interrupted.

“Wouldn’t I have to give you a jewel?”

Colette held out her palm, beckoning with her fingers. “If you’re telling the truth, you have nothing to hide. Just hand one over.”

Part of me longed to tell them the truth. Luxe needed help. She couldn’t continue to carry the burden of her family alone.

But it wasn’t my decision. “This isn’t a conversation you should be having with me.”

Colette groaned. “She’ll never tell us. She’ll just hide in my father’s office until we stop asking.”

“Please, Jamison,” Millie pleaded. “We just want to know if she’s okay. She hardly ever sleeps. And she’s losing weight. None of her costumes fit right anymore.”

“If she’s in danger, you would tell us, right?”

Was Luxe in danger?

She was lonely. Of that, I was certain. She missed her cousins and the relationship they used to have, but her secret had formed a wedge between them.

“Your silence is far from comforting,” Colette said drily.

“C’mon, Jamison.” Millie kept her gaze trained on mine. “Let us help her.”

They loved each other as relentlessly as siblings, as fiercely as best friends. Cousinhood was magic in its own right.

“I’m sorry,” I finally said. “You’ll have to talk to her.”

A weighted look passed between them, another silent conversation.

Millie flicked the tip of my nose. “Be good to her, Jamison Port. If you break her heart, we’ll break your handsome face.”

“Me? Break her heart?”

“She was beside herself when she thought you were a goner.” Colette rubbed Trys’s hand. “Absolutely heartbroken.”

“And she talks to you,” Millie added. “A hell of a lot more than she does any of us.”

“I don’t think that’s it. I just—I just never know when to shut up, that’s all.”

“It’s a good thing,” Colette said. “You should tell her how you feel. Maybe you can thaw the last bit of ice that’s keeping her from us.”

“Dewey can provide for her.” My body sank under the weight of the truth. Dewey was probably snuggled under cashmere blankets with her right now, his smoke-filled lungs someone else’s problem. “He can provide for all of you. Meanwhile, I don’t have enough gems in my pocket to buy the morning paper.”

Colette waved a hand. “We Revelles don’t need much. Besides, Dewey’s not her sweetheart. He’s her . . . customer, I suppose.”

“More like her employer,” Millie said.

“Employer. Exactly.”

It was worse than that. With the Big Tent obliterated, all their survival hinged on Dewey’s generosity—and on his being elected mayor tomorrow. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters!” Colette’s chin jutted forward. “If everyone who paid for our company laid claim to us, we’d be empty shells with nothing left.”

The doors flew open, wind rushing in.

Luxe. How much of that had she heard?

She entered stiffly, her mouth creased in quiet pain. Her hair was still a wreck, her leotard torn, and her long legs streaked with the same lethal soot in Trys’s lungs. A faint sheen made her face shine in the candlelight.

“There you are!” Millie threw her arms around her. Over her cousin’s shoulder, Luxe’s mask of poise fractured, revealing her bone-deep exhaustion. She’d been through so much today.

And she was still charming him.

“How’s Trysta?” Luxe asked, avoiding my eyes.

“Keeping us on our toes.” Colette’s hand didn’t stray from Trys’s, not even when she twisted to examine her cousin. “You look like you’re going to pass out again. Sit.”

“I’ll rest soon enough.”

“Where are you sleeping tonight? You’re always welcome here in the barn, isn’t that right, Jamison?” Millie elbowed me, her tired smile tinged with mischief.

Luxe couldn’t see me blushing, not while she so expertly avoided looking my way. “Uncle Wolffe’s fitting as many people as he can in the orphanage. And Dewey’s letting the rest sleep in the winter theater.”

“How generous,” Colette said flatly. “Sleeping on the floor.”

“Better than the streets.”

Colette arched her brow. “I can’t imagine him letting his star sleep there.”

“Actually, I’ll be staying with him.” Luxe studied a crack on the floor as scarlet crept over her ashen cheeks.

Silence. Even the wind ceased whistling through the barn.

Of course he’d found a way to use the fire to further ensnare her. That was the natural order of things in Charmant: the Effigens and Revelles despaired, the Edwardians observed, the Strattoris stayed out of it, and the Chronoses prospered.

Colette’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t do that.”

“This isn’t the mainland, Col. No one cares about propriety.”

“It’s not about propriety, it’s about being here for your family.”

“You need to rest!” Millie exclaimed. “You collapsed during the fire, and you haven’t even seen a healer. You need to be with us.”

Luxe shifted on her feet. “Dewey’s had a rough day, too.”

Colette folded her arms over her chest. “Oh, poor Dewey! Did the creepy old guy have his home burn to the ground? Was his girlfriend almost killed by her own family?”

“His family tried to kill him, too.” Luxe pinched the bridge of her nose. “He inhaled quite a bit of smoke.”

“And I’m sure that’s someone else’s problem now. Someone desperate enough to get paid to ruin their lungs.”

They stared at each other: two stubborn Revelles, each trying to protect the other.

Finally, Luxe looked away. “Trevor’s outside. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable having him come in.”

To give them much-needed privacy. Even though he worked for Dewey, Trevor was all right in my book.

“Of course.” Millie checked her hair in the mirror.

Trevor entered uncertainly, glancing around the barn. When his gaze landed on Millie, his face fell. “Miss Revelle, I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried when I heard the news.”

“You really mean that.” Tears glistened in her eyes.

“Of course I do.”

Before the first tear fell, Trevor cut across the barn and knelt beside her.

As Millie buried her head in the crook of his neck, Luxe finally looked my way and nodded toward the door.

Grabbing my jacket and a blanket, I slipped into the night after her.

The wind whipped off the ocean, but Luxe avoided the shelter of the dunes, instead turning farther down the beach. She moved slowly, each step labored. I offered her my arm, but she shook her head.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “What happened with Dewey?”

“Not here,” she murmured. “It was hard enough to shake Trevor.”

With each step, the giddy music of Main Street faded, replaced by the rustling reeds and the hush of the ocean. Luxe was so lost in her thoughts, she didn’t even notice me studying her as she marched us farther away from civilization. The full moon painted her in strokes of silver, highlighting the faint bruises under her eyes, the gauntness in her cheeks. She’d been running herself ragged all day—all summer—and she showed no signs of stopping.

Even now, she was still charming Dewey.

A pier rose from the water in the distance. Luxe slowed. “If we sit under there, it might not be so cold.”

“The blanket should help.”

She picked a spot close to where the weathered wood met the dunes. Despite the shelter from the wind, the cold crept in through the wet sand beneath the flannel blanket. Luxe shivered, and I covered her shoulders with my jacket, her skin icy under my fingertips. Her eyes finally lifted to mine, a protest forming on her lips.

“You’re turning blue.” And there was something thrilling about seeing her wear it.

She stared at the dark ocean. “My mother used to say this was the quietest place in Charmant. With seven brothers and sisters, she needed hiding spots.”

Without the cacophony of the Night, or the Big Tent’s music lilting over the beach, it felt like a different world entirely. “It’s peaceful.”

“Jamison . . .”

I could practically see the wheels turning behind those guarded eyes. Whatever she was about to say didn’t bode well for me.

“Dewey told me about your parents. What they did.”

My heart sank. There it was.

“You should have told me.”

“I know.” I couldn’t even look at her. “I was planning on it, but—”

“You’ve been acting strange all week. That’s how long you’ve known, isn’t it?”

Of course she’d noticed. There wasn’t an emotion on Charmant that Luxe didn’t see. “I was going to tell you last night, but you were having so much fun. And the thought of you looking at me the way you are now . . .”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like I’m the son of the people who took your mother from you.” Bile burned the back of my throat, but I forced myself to face her.

She winced. And she didn’t deny it. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“Leave the beach?” I stared at her. “Or leave Charmant?”

Her silence was all the answer I needed.

“Luxe, look at me.” I turned her chin toward me, unable to hide the desperation in my voice. “I’m sorry, okay? When I found out, I should have told you right away, it’s just . . . My parents caused so much pain. Not just for you, but Millie, Colette. Roger.”

Between the fire and Margaret’s family, Roger’s grief was already overflowing. There couldn’t be a worse possible time to lay this on him.

“You should have told me. Me.” She jabbed her finger against my chest. “I’ve told you all my secrets.”

“You’re right. I have no excuse. I just—when I walk into the Big Tent, your family greets me like I’m one of them. They tease me and put me to work, just like they do Roger.” The truth of my words struck me like an ax. I loved the Revelles. All summer, they’d let me pretend I was one of them, and I didn’t want to ruin the ruse.

I forced myself to stare right at the hurt shining in her eyes. “The selfish truth is that I wasn’t ready to give that up. Once everyone knows, I won’t be Roger’s orphan best friend anymore. I’ll be the son of the people who murdered their loved ones, and they’ll never look at me without thinking about that.” And neither would she.

The ocean threw itself onto the sand and the tide dragged it back. Over and over.

“I blame you for keeping this from me,” she finally said, “but not for what your parents did. I’ve always believed the Chronoses were involved somehow.”

“Dewey didn’t tell you that part?” Of course he hadn’t.

She frowned. “What part?”

I explained what I’d learned from Mag about my sister and the Chronos who kidnapped her. How my parents sent me away for my protection. The years that passed—seven whole years, they were alive and missing me desperately, while I was stuck in that blasted orphanage, missing them desperately—before they relented to the Chronoses’ demands.

“That’s terrible,” she whispered.

“My parents still made a choice.”

“Hardly a choice at all.” She slipped her cold hands in mine, and my heart swelled like a balloon. “So that’s how the Chronoses avoid getting caught. They force desperate people to do their dirty work.”

Like Rose Effigen, who only wanted to see her little boy again. It wasn’t right that she was gone. That her son was still missing.

It wasn’t right at all. “Do we know where George Chronos was during the fire?”

“Wolffe’s already on it. But I meant what I said, Jamison. You should still leave.”

Her hands continued to grip mine. For someone who wanted me gone, she didn’t seem eager to put any space between us.

“Because of Dewey?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters.” Because it had to be Dewey. The thought that she’d want me gone for other reasons, that she regretted what she said on the beach—that was intolerable.

“You were going to leave in a few days. Leave tonight and get to your orchard job early.”

“I’m not leaving Trys.” Or you.

I couldn’t walk away from Luxe, not when she was more trapped than ever. As if magic-less me could help her. No wonder she was resigning herself to Dewey.

I stood and faced her. “So what’s your plan? Charming him every second of every day?”

A defiant shrug. “If that’s what it takes.”

“You’re going to collapse like you did that first night. Or he’ll ask Trevor the right questions and discover what you’re doing. And then what?”

“I’m not going to use my secondary magic forever. Just long enough to get him to give me a jewel, and then I’ll make sure he does everything in his power to keep my family safe.”

She had an answer for everything. And she was always the answer. “So he’s just going to hand over a big, fat ruby if you say please?”

“More like a diamond ring.”

I gaped at her, at the pink blossoming on her pale cheeks. “You’ll marry him?”

“I prefer to think of it as a very long engagement.” She let sand fall between her fingers.

Christ, she was playing with fire. I crouched in front of her. “He’ll never let you go.”

She still wouldn’t look at me. “I’ll use the jewel to replenish my magic when I need to, and I’ll charm him into keeping his promises to my family. Once enough time has passed that his family can’t undo our progress, I’ll slowly charm him into growing bored with me.”

She had it all planned out. As much as I hated to admit it, her plan could work—as long as he gave her a jewel. A goddamn ring.

“So that’s why you want me gone. So you can have a happy engagement with the potential mayor, without any trouble from me.”

“He wants you gone.” Her voice caught, the only hint of emotion as she looked away. “And it’s probably for the best.”

I took her hand and she closed her eyes, those long lashes resting against her cheeks. “Tell me you want me to leave, and I’ll go. Just tell me what you want. Not what Dewey wants, or what your family needs. What do you want, Luxe?”

It was the only thing that mattered.

Her whiskey eyes pleaded with mine. She didn’t want to say it.

“What do you want?” I repeated, this time softer.

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered, “because I can’t have it.”

My pulse thundered through my veins. “It matters to me.”

Fear flickered across her face. Leaping ten stories above a crowd was no problem, but this frightened her.

“I want a different life, one where I don’t have to pretend to care for someone to keep my family safe. I want to be free of Dewey, free of the Chronoses. And I want to be good enough for you.”

I stared at her, not daring to move. “You don’t think you’re good enough for me?”

“I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re kind, Jamison. All the time. You’re brilliant. And humble. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that first night in the Fun House. But I’m not like you,” she added, her voice breaking. “And I have to be with Dewey. I don’t want to hurt you, but—”

“You can’t hurt me.”

“I’m a Revelle.” Sadness glistened in her moonlit eyes. “There’s no way for this to end without you getting hurt. Which is why you have to leave. My life is too messy. I’m too messy.”

“You feel the same?” I was breathless. Floating.

She wore no masks as she softly replied, “Of course I do. Ever since that damn kiss.”

I pressed my free hand to her cheek. Our foreheads met.

“That one didn’t count,” I murmured. She hadn’t even known who I was, and I hadn’t realized everything she had at stake that night. “We deserve a do-over.”

The words had barely rolled off my tongue before we kissed.

Her mouth met mine with a gentleness that sparked fire through my veins. Still, I kissed her slowly, savoring the thrill of her lips brushing mine. She’d had my heart in her hands all summer, but there was still so much we couldn’t say, so much she wouldn’t let herself feel. Yet each tender kiss was laced with confessions, whispered promises we didn’t dare utter aloud. It was a dance of possibilities—a life without Dewey, without our parents’ intertwined fates.

I pulled her closer, and she wrapped her night-chilled arms around my neck, deepening the kiss. My hands got lost in the tangles of her hair, my breath stolen by her soft lips. They grew bold against mine, no sign of her perpetual pain as our mouths found each other, over and over. I held her as if she might disappear, but she melted against me, erasing every millimeter of space between us. Her hands ravaged my hair, every pass of her lips leaving me desperate for another. The damp sand underneath us was a chill I hardly felt as I ran my hands down the firm muscles of her back, her soft gasp setting me aflame. I was utterly hers.

There was no turning back.

Her mouth grazed my jaw, and I buried my groan in the nape of her neck, kissing away soot and ash and sweat and sand. Her legs tangled with mine as my heart beat so rapidly she had to feel it. She tore at the buttons of my shirt, her hands cold against my chest. I captured them in mine and broke the kiss, pressing my forehead to hers.

“You’re freezing.” I ran my hands up and down her bare arms, covered in goose bumps. “Maybe we should—”

“No. No more waiting.” Her swollen lips formed a line of resolve. “My home is gone. Time travelers are gunning for us. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”

Ash from the Big Tent still clung to us. Far from the perfect time, or the perfect place, but she was the perfect girl. Magic or not, I’d been right that first night: Luxe Revelle was my destiny.

Lowering myself over her, I ran a hand through her tangled curls. “I’m yours,” I whispered. “Always.”