Lament: The Faerie Queen's Deception (Books of Faerie #1)

Lament: The Faerie Queen's Deception (Books of Faerie #1) Page 5

Luke looked behind me. “There’s nobody there.” His eyes narrowed. “Nobody.”

Goose bumps prickled on my skin. It would’ve been easy to just believe Luke, but the freckled boy was impossible to forget. “There was,” I said unhappily. “Some freak.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Luke said loudly. “C’mon. Let’s get back to civilization. What were you doing way out here, anyway?”

I glanced around. All my spinning had taken me surprisingly far from the tents. The chamber music was only a faint music-box sound from here. “I—I was just trying to get away from my annoying aunt.”

“Well, let’s get closer to her and farther from invisible freaks,” Luke suggested. He turned me with the barest touch on the small of my back and we headed toward the noise. “I like your dress, by the way. Suits you.”

I secretly preened, then surprised myself by saying, “I know.”

Luke said, “It’s not polite to gloat,” but he grinned. “So, tell me about your annoying aunt.”

I sighed as we approached the food tent. “That would be her, over there. Aggravating my mom by the food tent.”

He stood with me and quietly observed Delia and Mom. I was beginning to like that about him. He listened. He watched. “She’s quite awful, isn’t she?”

“The sort of aunt that’s in storybooks,” I said. “If they put evil aunts in storybooks. She and my mom have never gotten along.”

Even from here, I could hear Delia’s loud voice as she told someone how Mom had been quite talented in her youth, but had never done anything with it. Bitch, I thought uncharitably.

“I just thought a very uncharitable thing about a family member,” I admitted.

Luke leaned in, close enough that I could smell his faintly musky odor—nothing like an herb, nothing like any high-school boy—and whispered, “Did it start with a B? I thought it, too.”

I laughed, loud enough that Delia looked up at me. She made motions for me to come over, but I pretended to be looking past her into the food tent. “Hurry. Pretend you’re pointing something out so I can pretend to not see her.”

Luke put a hand on my shoulder and pointed with the other toward the sky. “Look, the moon.”

“That was the best you could come up with?” I demanded. But I looked at it anyway—pale, mysterious, hanging in blue instead of black. Once again I felt I could look at it forever, or at least until I could remember why I wanted to look at it. “It’s beautiful, though, isn’t it?”

I didn’t think he was looking at the moon anymore, but he said, “Very.”

I kept gazing up. “This will sound stupid, but—it makes me feel funny.” The same way Luke made me feel funny.

“That’s because it’s from the night. The night keeps secrets.”

Luke kept secrets as well, didn’t he? Secrets we both pretended he didn’t have.

“Very poetic.”

“I can be very literary when I want to be. I’m a very complex person. Like yourself, I have hidden depths.”

I looked down. “Awww, you think I have hidden depths? That’s awfully sweet.” His eyes shifted from me to a point just behind me, and I turned to see what he saw.

A very tall, very blond woman was approaching us with a modelesque stride. She was as fair as an Easter lily, with perfect blue eyes and a perfect snowy neck. My dress suddenly felt shabby.

“Eleanor,” Luke said, face expressionless.

“Luke. How wonderful to see you again.” She placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek, running a finger down to his chin. I looked away. “It seems like forever.”

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re not in a very good mood tonight, are you?” Eleanor said. “I’d have thought you’d be in heaven with all this good music.”

Luke didn’t reply.

“Especially you, Deirdre. You played beautifully. We all were amazed by how you played.”

I looked up at the sound of my name and was blinded by her radiant smile. Still, for all her beauty, it was just another compliment. “Thanks. Luke helped a lot.”

Eleanor turned her smile to Luke, who still had that strange, expressionless face. “Oh yes, Luke helps out a lot.” She smiled at him. “Luke, dear, you don’t believe in small talk?”

Luke’s voice was flat. “How’s work.”

She laughed. It was annoyingly beautiful. “Going very well.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How’s the boss?”

Eleanor studied her gently sculpted nails. “Oh, more like a co-worker these days, I should say.”

“That must be thrilling.”

“The masses appreciate someone like them.” She gestured to herself. “Someone like me.”

Luke said, “How lucky for both of you.”

“Oh, I think so, lamb.” She turned to me. “Well, you’re certainly a rising star. I’ll be watching you.”

Beside me, Luke stiffened.

“It was very nice to meet you, Deirdre. Have a lovely evening.” She touched Luke’s cheek again. “And I’ll see you again, Luke.”

After she’d gone, I looked at Luke, biting my lip before speaking. “Ex-girlfriend?”

Luke’s eyes widened and he laughed. “That,” he said, “Would be a terrible thing to wish on a man. No. Remember that storybook that would have Delia in it? Eleanor belongs in it as well. Think of her as an evil godmother.”

I relaxed. I shouldn’t be thinking of Luke that way at all, considering how long I’d known him. But still, the idea of having Eleanor as competition had momentarily floored me.

“Evil godmother is much better than ex-girlfriend.” What makes you so different, Luke, that I should give a rat’s butt either way?

Luke glanced over at me. “Oh yeah?”

I looked away, losing my bravado, and nodded shyly. “Yeah.”

I became aware that the speakers from the awards tent had been blaring for quite some time. “Second place in solo performance to Carmen Macy.” There was polite clapping from behind us.

We walked silently over to Mom, and stopped when we realized that she was speaking to someone and that Delia had gone quite still.

“—I heard her play this evening, and I just wanted to say that I am quite blown away by her talent. She and her friend are just the sort of people we’re looking for. Please, please, take my card and do give us a call.”

I looked at the man who was speaking. His pleasant voice belied his image, which was that of a bare-knuckle fighter. Though he was wearing a button-down shirt, the sleeves couldn’t hide his enormous biceps and muscled chest. He wasn’t like any school representative I’d ever imagined.

“First prize in ensemble goes to Andrew Manx, Tina Chin—” the speaker blared, but Mom’s voice seemed louder. “Well, thanks. We’ll definitely take a look.”

Mr. Gigantic Muscles gave me a small nod before looking back to Delia and Mom. “Well, I know you’ve had a long day, so I’ll let you go get a well-deserved rest. They should be announcing the grand prize very soon, shouldn’t they? Enjoy the reception.”

Mom exchanged a look with me and then stared at Delia after the man had gone.

There was more clapping behind us as awards were read. I was surprised to find that I didn’t really care if I won anything. The competition seemed so insignificant—so ordinary—in comparison to the here and now, standing next to Luke and looking at the business card the conservatory representative had left.

“Thornking-Ash,” Delia read from the card. She sniffed. “Sounds like a funeral home.”

I sniffed, too, but only because I smelled the same herbal smell as before. Was that freak still here?

Luke was at my elbow, saying, “I think I’m going to have to leave early. I think I might have to go now.”

I was about to protest or beg unabashedly for his number when I realized the clapping had gone quiet. The voice crackled on the speaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s six o’clock, and as promised, we’re going to announce the winners of the grand prize. Thank you everyone for competing and sharing your talent with us. The judges would like to congratulate the grand prize winners for this year’s arts festival—Deirdre Monaghan and Luke Dilling.”

Luke whispered into my ear, close enough that his lips brushed my hair. “Tell me you want to see me again.”

I smiled.

three

Hey psycho, what’s up?”

I rolled back onto my bed, cradling the phone on my shoulder. “Nothing much.” I caught sight of the clock on my bedstand and groaned. “James, it’s not really ten o’clock, is it?” He didn’t have to answer. I could tell from the fierceness of the sun coming through the white curtains that it was late.

“I hear,” James said, “that introverts have to sleep a lot after stressful encounters with people.”

I sat up. “That’s true.” It was also true that I’d spent way too much time last night unable to sleep. Thinking about winning the whole freakin’ grand prize of the competition. Thinking about Luke. Thinking about Thornking-Ash. Mostly thinking about Luke. I didn’t mention that part to James.

“So. Today’s your birthday.” James made a sound like he was chewing something. “Sorry, hangnail. Anyway. Today! The celebration of the first day you screamed.”

“Yesterday was my birthday,” I corrected, getting out of bed. I pulled a T-shirt out of a drawer and found some jeans, cradling the phone on my shoulder. “I’m getting old.” I checked my pants from the day before for any money, and instead found the four-leaf clover that had been stuck to my phone. Good luck.

“You were busy yesterday. I’m designating today your birthday. You can’t stop me.”

“Okay, fine. It’s my birthday. Want to make something of it?”

“Actually, your mom already did. In typical overbearing fashion, she’s invited me and my parents to your house for dinner and cake this evening. Normally, this is the part where I’d complain bitterly about how you let your mom arrange your life for you, but since I really like her food, I’m not going to say anything.”

I made a face. Trust Mom to throw me a kiddie party. She’d apparently missed the memo where I officially became an adult, or maybe the memo that said you don’t arrange a teenager’s birthday like a catering event. Come to think of it, I think she missed most memos.

“Boy, thanks, Mom,” I said.

“Well, you could just tell her you wanted to hang out with me unofficially,” James suggested. “You’re the birthday girl. Snap the fingers. Make it happen.”

Ha. Make it happen. It reminded me of Luke last night, of what he’d said. You know how some people can do anything? They want something, they make it happen.

“I like that idea better,” I said slowly, distracted. I set the clover down on my bedside table, studying it—the way the sun cast a perfectly clover-shaped shadow behind it. “But you do like her food.” I cupped my hand on the edge of the table, a few inches away from the clover.