As my head spun under the heavy blanket of booze that ran through my body, I was relieved to be away from the noise of the concert. I may have had more than I could handle. I went to the kitchen for water while Cillian cautiously circled my modest home, looking at books on the shelves, the art–my art–on the walls.
“Do you want anything?” I asked. I had to press my lips tightly to stifle the sound that turned over in my throat at his answering look. A dark stare cut across the room with delight. I held up my glass. “Water?”
Cillian shook his head gently. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”
He wasn’t closing the distance. Wasn’t making a move. Was he being a gentleman or waiting for me to be the first? My head spun again, and I focused on breathing in and out, deep breaths. In and out.
My gaze flitted to the balcony door. “I think I need some air. Join me?”
Cillian nodded in response and quietly followed me onto our tiny balcony overlooking the enormous park across the street. Winding with walking trails, stuffed with flowers readying for the Fall, and sprinkled with lamplight. I stood and gripped the metal railing as I sucked in a long, cooling breath and Cillian sidled up next to me. Our arms brushing. His broad hand wrapped around the wrought iron ledge with mine, and I didn’t give myself the chance to back out.
I slowly shifted my hand over his and turned to face him. Cillian peered down at me from beneath a curtain of silky black hair that fell across part of his face. Those cerulean eyes locked on mine, and my body stilled as my lips parted. My gaze dropped to his waiting mouth, and I leaned in ever so slowly.
This was it.
But all my hopes and wants hurtled to a stop the instant his hands swiftly gripped my upper arms and held me in place, preventing me from closing that gap and placing my mouth on his. My heart screeched to a halt as embarrassment crashed down around me. I didn’t know what to say, and… neither did Cillian as his mouth gaped wordlessly. His expression was wrought with sympathy.
I didn’t want his pity.
The front door burst open and in stumbled a giggling Julie, herded by an apologetic Tomas who found my panicked face from across the apartment and out the patio door. He thought he was interrupting, but, really, he was saving me from my moment of mortification.
I didn’t give Cillian so much as a second glance before I swiftly stepped across the threshold and disappeared behind my bedroom door, where I passed out on my bed in a whirlwind of regret. But not before I heard the distinct sound of retreating footsteps and the front door closing.
I was a fool.
Chapter Thirteen
I barely slept. The beer coaxed slumber I fell into only lasted a few hours before I stirred, my stomach growling, my mouth parched. Compared to Julie’s homemade wine, a few beers were nothing. But I’d fallen asleep in my clothes, even my shoes, so I shed everything in favor of an old, oversized t-shirt and scavenged some leftover Chinese food from the fridge before scurrying back to my room where I now sat. My back up against the headboard. My sketchpad in my lap.
I mindlessly scrawled the pencil tip over the paper, my thoughts wandering to… so many things. Like Lattie. I hadn’t seen her in days, and I worried that maybe the people she was running from caught up to her. Or had that dark nightclub–what was it Moya called it… Umbra? –capture her? I wondered if Moya could help me find where Lattie was.
Then there was last night. I’d replayed the balcony scenario over and over in my head, trying to see where I went wrong. Why he…rejected me. I was no expert–it was hard to date in our tiny town, Tess’s tight leash aside–but I could have sworn he was into me. Perhaps he was just a shameful flirt. Maybe I was better off.
But he was friends with Tomas, which meant… I’d cross paths with the blue-eyed devil again. A groan rolled over from within me, cut short by a gasp as the sounds of clanking pots came from the kitchen. I crawled across my bed and peeled back the corner of the curtain. Sunlight poured in. I must have been awake for hours.
I headed out to the apartment to find Julie in her white flannel pajamas, filling the coffeepot as scrambled eggs cooked on the stove. Beneath her clothes and mundane appearance, her true form glimmered. As if her glamor were weak. I realized I still had my sketchpad tucked under my arm, so I set it on the table as I sat down.
“Morning,” I said. “Hungover?”
Julie smiled tiredly, and the toaster popped. “Morning.” I laughed at the agony in her tone and watched as she plucked two pieces of toast onto a plate and then replaced them with two fresh slices of bread. “Hangover’s an understatement. I can barely hold my glamor.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
She half-turned to look at me as she worked. “Sure,” she replied hesitantly.
“You almost always wear white.” Julie looked relieved that my question was merely about her attire. “Why is that? Is it… do you prefer it because it’s so similar to how you truly look?”
Julie was quiet as she piled eggs onto the plate. Ever since I discovered her secret, she’d been careful not to talk about it too much–about any of it, even the world she came from. I didn’t know if she was scared, nervous, or was just being cautious about feeding me information at my pace. She walked over and set it in front of me, her glamor like static around her outstretched hand. I gave her a look of thanks.
“It’s… just easier,” she finally said, her long blonde ponytail falling over her shoulder as she leaned against the back of a chair. “Yeah, I wear mundane clothes. But I can create a whole new glamor from nothing, but it’s hard and takes so much energy. Especially if I want to keep it up every day. But I can also create a glamor from something that already exists.”
I just nodded, awestruck. My best friend… a fairy. A stunning picture of ethereal perfection. How lucky was I to touch her world? To have this peek inside.
“I… could change it up, though,” she added. “If the white’s too drab,” she drawled mockingly and tipped her head back as her white pajamas morphed and turned to a sheer robe lined with fur around the bottom and the oversized sleeves. With a snap of her fingers, a crystal blue bled into it. With a grin, she snapped her fingers again, and the entire thing changed into a pair of jeans and a blue blouse. She twirled and did a curtsy.
I laughed and picked at my toast just as hers popped in the toaster. “Jules, the white is totally fine.”
She shrugged and grabbed the coffeepot and set it on the table. “Better than my Fae form, I suppose.”
Her joking demeanor tucked away, and she averted her gaze. I realized then… how Julie never really could be her true self in her life. Not at home, at school. Not even with me. Until now.
“You know,” I croaked and shoved a bite of eggs to the side of my mouth. “If it takes so much energy, you don’t have to wear the glamor around me.”
Her sky-blue eyes darted to me. “It… doesn’t freak you out?”
I leaned forward and gave her the most profound look of love as I placed my hand over my heart. “The opposite. Jules, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Tears rimmed her eyes, but I broke the emotional tension before we both erupted into tears. “So, uh, when did Tomas go home?”
She quickly passed a finger under each eye and cleared her throat. “Late. A few hours after we got back.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and grinned at me from over the rim. “And Cillian left shortly after you stormed off to bed.” I grimaced at my plate. “He… didn’t make a move last night?”
My cheeks burst with heat. “No, I did. But he shot me down. Guess I must have read all the signals wrong.”
Julie plopped some eggs on a plate with her toast and sat down across from me. “Well, he’s a damn fool for turning you down. Maybe he’s gay,” she added with a chuckle. “It would explain his painfully good looks.”
A moan turned over in my throat. “He’s not that good-looking.”
She laughed at my sketchbook, and I gawked at the images I’d mi
ndlessly drawn. Those dark eyes, the silken hair, the wide, sharp jaw. It was Cillian. All over the page, right down to the finest detail.
I rolled my eyes and stood up in a huff as I tucked it back under my arm. “I’ve got to get ready for class.”
***
The rest of the week went by in a blur. Mainly because the gallery showcase on one of my favorite artists was at the end. I stared in the mirror as I applied my makeup for the event. My stomach brimming with butterflies.
Not to mention… Lattie had yet to return. I worried for her, and it grew with each passing day. Every night, I left the window open, hoping she’d come home. But she never appeared. Did those shadows catch up with her? I hadn’t seen them myself. Not for days. A fact I was eternally grateful for. Classes were going great, smooth–Max barely even looked at me. We now worked on the project separately. Aside from a few quick exchanges of yes or no answers in class. Which was fine by me.
But I almost craved the distraction this week. For something… anything to take my mind off the fact that tonight was my first big showing. An event completely put together by me. Yes, Celadine helped and guided, but in the end…this show was mine. This was my first test. The thought both unnerved and elated me.
I set down the bronze-pink lipstick and stepped back as I beheld my reflection. I’d taken inspiration from Moya and wore a long, silky slip dress of emerald-green. Much darker than her olive-colored one, but with my stark red hair–which I left cascading down over me–to contrast and a slew of chunky gold accessories, I felt like a goddess. I took a deep, calming breath and let that affirmation wash over me.
No, I felt like a… woman.
A person with purpose and talent–a talent that’s on display for everyone to see tonight. Yes, the artist’s work will be the focus, but beneath it all… me. My vision. My choices in fabrics and décor and food and music. I’d been setting a stage for weeks, and tonight the show would start.
I walked out to the apartment where Julie and Tomas waited. Whatever conversation they’d been having immediately stopped as two pairs of wide eyes gawked at me. Julie wore a skin-tight, long-sleeved white dress that hugged every inch of her from chin to floor. A thigh-high slit up the side revealed similar gold gladiator sandals to the ones I wore. Tomas kept it simple in a gray pair of slacks and matching shirt he left unbuttoned at the top, the collar comfortably laying open around his neck. His usual straight, floppy dark hair was combed and slicked back.
“You guys look amazing,” I said, suddenly feeling like a fraud. I never dressed up. Grungy nineties fashion mixed with a just-rolled-out-of-bed look was my go-to. Compared to Julie, who looked like she was born in her outfit–perhaps she was, maybe it was a glamor–I felt like a kid dressed up in her mother’s clothes. I wrung out my fingers at my sides and held a smile as I sighed nervously. I couldn’t let my nerves get the best of me. Not tonight.
“You’re not too shabby yourself,” Tomas replied with his usual lighthearted tone. I could have been dressed like royalty, and he would still throw glances at Julie as if she were the moon. He only had eyes for her.
“Av’,” Julie took a step toward me and took my hands, lifting them above my head with a gesture to do a spin. “You look like a goddess. Green is definitely your color.” I spun, and she released me.
“I don’t think many goddesses are gingers,” I said and pawed at the ends of my hair.
Julie rolled her eyes and fetched a small white clutch from the table. “Yeah, only Athena.” I grabbed a golden fur scarf from the back of a chair and wrapped my neck tightly. “Aphrodite. Freyja–”
“Okay, okay.” A laugh turned over in my throat, shared by Tomas, and I took my place beside them as we turned and headed for the door. “I get it.”
Julie slung an arm around my shoulder with a grin. “Tonight is going to be amazing. I promise.”
“Plus,” Tomas added, “You’ve got us. If it’s a disaster, we’ll burn the whole thing down, and no one will ever know.”
“Glad I can count on you guys to commit a felony for me.”
“What are friends for?” he replied, and we left the apartment in a cloud of laughter.
We arrived during the soft opening before the actual show began. Guests filed in neatly, their expressions and sounds of awe resounding off the sets already. I stood at the edge of the vast front lawn with Julie and Tomas on each arm and stared at my work unfolded.
Flanking the pristine paved walkway was the divided lawn I’d filled with local musicians from the universities. Harpists, violinists, and pianists serenaded the guests as they walked the grand path set for them.
Thousands of twinkle lights cast a blanket of stars in swoops that seemed to never end as they bound and looped around the entire property. Weaving in and out of doors and windows, off balconies from above. I’d set up some of the artist’s older pieces, some abstract sculptures, to offset the musicians and remind the guests what was in store for them. The gallery itself was a work of art. It made it easy to dress up, especially with the creations from one of the most talented artists in the Maritimes at my disposal.
“Av’,” Julie almost whispered, her jaw hanging low as she beheld everything with wide eyes. “I feel like I’m in a dream. This is absolutely stunning.”
“Just wait until you see inside,” I replied, brimming with pride. All my nerves had settled when we arrived, and I was suddenly eager to share my work with the world. I just… had to see it for myself.
We reached the grand front doors that were propped open. Helen stood with a leather clipboard and checked each guest’s name as they entered. She just nodded to me, and we stepped aside in the foyer just inside the doors.
“I’m going to check on the set-up and make sure it’s all good for later,” Tomas said.
“Yes, of course,” I replied and motioned toward the area where all the cords and electrical were kept hidden with tape and carpets and a temporary wall. “And, hey?” He halted and raised his brows. “Thanks. For… helping.”
“Are you kidding?” he asked. A slight squeak in his voice. “You’re helping me. I’m surprised my prof didn’t steal this project away from me. This event is going to look good on my resume.”
Julie and I laughed. “Well, thank you, nonetheless. Tonight wouldn’t be half as amazing without the audio-visual setup you created. And it definitely wouldn’t have been in the budget if I had to hire a studio.”
Julie nudged me with her shoulder. “We just love to make you look good.”
Tomas bounded off toward his elaborate mess of equipment borrowed from school, and I took Julie further into the gallery. Heaps of black silk draped from the vaulted ceilings, creating endless backdrops for some of the key pieces–stunning abstract sculptures gleaming with gold. Or… what looked like gold. The artist was now working with clay infused with gold pigment. The result was something that looked like it belonged in the palace of the gods, which happened to be the theme for the night.
Guests in evening wear muddled about, admiring the work and chatting quietly amongst their groups as they sipped from champagne flutes and nibbled on the refreshments. Julie and I stood at the edge of the main room, outsiders taking it all in. I could feel her eyes on me, and when I turned, her expression burst with pride.
Then something caught my eye a few feet away. No, not something… someone. A certain caustic woman who nearly disappeared against the dark backdrops that filled the room. Max. She picked at the table of fresh fruit with an upturned nose.
“Excuse me,” I said to Julie and calmly walked over to Max. But Julie followed close behind. Silent and supportive. “Max, what are you doing here?”
Her answering glare was enough to make me want to wither away. “Matt Mitchell is one of my favorite artists.”
I shook my head. “No, I mean, how are you here? This is a private event with a guest list I curated myself. I don’t remember seeing your name anywhere on it.”
She raised her chin with a bored expression.
“There are no doors closed to me in this city,” she said as if that were answer enough. I just stared unblinking at her until she rolled her eyes and deflated with a sigh. “You might remember seeing my mother’s name on the list. She gets invited to everything where money’s involved.”
“So, why isn’t she here then?” Julie asked from over my shoulder.
Max gave her a look that said, how dare you speak to me, peasant, and didn’t even bother replying to her as she set her looks-to-kill on me. “My mother has no appreciation for art.”
Even though her daughter was an artist? An amazingly talented one at that?
Max plucked a grape from her near-empty plate and popped it in her mouth. She gestured stiffly to the room. “Nice show. Your boss has outdone herself.”
As if summoned, Celadine appeared from the shadows Max stood in, like a spill of ink. “I had very little to do with this at all.” She released her hair from its usual tangle atop her head and covered her bare arms, the only skin showing–save for her face–against the dense black one-piece she wore. Its flowy legs billowed around her feet. She placed a cool, delicate hand on my shoulder as she turned and faced Max. “This was all Avery. Every bit of it. From the lighting to the very grapes you hold in your hand.”
Max almost looked pained as she forced a smile that didn’t quite suit her. But she set the plate of fruit down with distaste. “Well,” she wiped her hands together as her stare drilled into me. Her dark lipstick set on frozen lips. She couldn’t even muster up a compliment for me. Not even in front of the woman she admired, the woman she wanted to be. Any remaining fear I had of Max dissipated, and I only felt pity for her now. For having to harbor such angst and jealousy. It must have been exhausting.
She turned on her heel and stormed off. No part of me was even surprised.
“Well then,” Celadine said and blew out a huff of air. “I’m glad I didn’t hire her after all.”
“You were considering it?” Julie balked.
A Kingdom of Iron & Wine : New Adult Fantasy Romance (The Ironworld Series Book 1) Page 18