Page 8

8

Vincent

H er already pale face went white as a sheet at the mention of her father.

Something uncomfortable churned in my stomach at the sight.

She wanted to use me first , I reminded myself.

My wind raged at the assertion, but it didn’t have a leg to stand on.

She’d known my name when I showed up today, and had planned to ask me a favor.

I’d thought she was different, but I’d been wrong.

She was like the rest, only interested in my ability to recommend.

It bothered me more than I cared to dwell on.

I shoved down the useless emotions that bubbled in my throat.

She’ll get her recommendation—it’s what she wanted.

This way, at least, we’re both getting something out of it.

I swallowed another sip of now lukewarm tea.

Maybe if I told myself this enough times, I’d feel better about it.

“What’s the story?” Her voice was flat, lifeless.

Whatever part of her had graced me with welcoming chatter and made me tea in an attempt to salvage our disastrous first meeting was gone.

Part of me wanted it back.

Pushing my hand through my hair, I leaned forward.

Asking for more information suggested she was considering my bargain, no matter how much pain was on her face.

You put it there.

My wind surged violently in my chest, yet it didn’t try to break free.

It seemed to sense things weren’t quite settled here.

No, Darius put it there, I reminded myself.

This was part of why we’d come.

If she looked this hurt at the mention of her father, she deserved to know what I knew.

She deserved to determine for herself whether he was involved.

“You know about the proposal for a magic school in Sandrin?” I asked.

“Not limited to only those traditionally educated by the fae courts?”

She nodded, pulling that ridiculous shawl tighter around her shoulder.

“A magic school for humans, half-fae, and those of multiple courts.”

“The Bayside Times received an unsubstantiated tip that your father was bribing the governor to stop its progress.”

I didn’t think it was possible, but her face went whiter.

Before I knew it, my tea was on the end table, my forearms propped on my legs as I leaned farther forward, interlacing my fingers to stop myself from reaching for her.

“I have to stress that the tip is unverified.” I didn’t need to mention what I’d overheard in the stairwell yet.

“Then why are you investigating it?”

There were a lot of things I could say.

I didn’t want someone with prejudices doing it.

It was my job.

I shook my head, letting my hair fall over my face.

If we were doing this, I was going to be honest.

Our bargain would benefit both parties, and I would ensure she knew that.

I lifted my head, meeting her earnest gaze.

“I’ve been trying to write something other than ‘Benefits of Magic’ for over a year. This is my chance—the story I was given.” I swallowed.

It was odd to admit such a private desire to a stranger.

I knew I’d done the right thing when my wind quieted with the admission.

She looked…

understanding.

Too much raw truth hung between us.

I strived to wipe some of it away, like it was a stain that needed cleaning.

“I was the only one on the paper who won’t assume he’s guilty from the beginning.” Admittedly, the stairwell conversation had tipped my opinion a bit, but still, I’d do a proper investigation.

“Because you’re old fae?” she asked.

“Yes.” I cleared my throat.

“Others on the paper don’t have the best opinions of the old fae families in Sandrin. I recognize some of it is deserved, but it’s not universal that all old fae oppose change.”

She tilted her head.

“So, you’re different? You’re not like them?”

I wasn’t entirely sure if she meant I wasn’t like other old fae or like others on the paper.

My wind swirled as I considered her question.

I wished I knew the answer to either.

As far as old fae went, my parents and I saw things very differently.

So much so that I’d moved out of our family home last year.

Leaving was a big deal for a fae, especially since I was my father’s heir.

Few were aware—my parents had kept it quiet to save the public embarrassment.

I didn’t care so long as I was free of them.

Moving out and working at the paper hadn’t magically granted me clarity about all things fae and human, though.

I still didn’t know where I fit.

“I’m not sure.” I shook my head.

My honesty about such personal topics was uncharacteristic.

Usually, I’d avoid them, but something about her drew me in and churned at my insides until verbal vomit spewed forth.

Even with the offensively bright patterns of the mismatched blanket wrapped around her, she was enchanting.

No, I couldn’t think that way.

Maybe we’d had a moment last night before she’d been called away, a shared smirk and understanding of my magic.

It surged inside me at the thought, but I tamped it down.

Whatever might have been, I’d most certainly ruined it with my request to investigate her father.

I gritted my teeth, unsure if that bothered me.

She ruined it first, though .

All she wanted was my recommendation.

I’d lost count of the number of times I had thought people liked me only to realize they wanted something from me instead.

Our bargain would be transactional, nothing more.

I’d cling to that.

“What would my help investigating him entail?” she asked.

“I’d need to get into Pierce House, probably look in his office.”

She stared blankly.

“Even if you can’t access his financial records, I only need time there alone. I know what to look for.” I’d been raised to run my family’s estate.

I was sure Darius’s records were similar.

Her bright blue eyes blinked faster, almost like she was holding back tears.

Wind ruffled my hair and hers.

It was the first time it had made itself known in our conversation.

I tilted my head as I considered why.

Then Luna’s hair swirled, and a smile broke the sadness that had crept across her features.

Her hand raised as if…

“Are you trying to pet my wind?” I asked, dumbfounded.

She glared at me, pulling that hideous shawl closer.

“Maybe. It was being good.” Her words were defensive, but she was smiling.

“When do you need to know?” she asked, changing subjects.

“Know what?”

“Know about the bargain?”

My brow furrowed.

“What is there to know? Either we do it or we don’t.”

She ran a hand through her hair, pushing the out-of-place blond streaks back.

“I don’t know if I can get you into Pierce House.” She folded her arms across her chest .

The picture of her name on a separate page in the court record flashed in my mind.

I knew there was strife between father and daughter, but maybe I’d miscalculated how much.

She shook her head again.

“I’ve never been to the family home. I don’t know if I can get you in. And even if I could, I don’t know where anything is. If that’s what you need in this bargain, I can’t help you.”

I am an asshole of the highest order.

Wind rushed through me in agreement, like the bottom was dropping out of my seat.

Words flew from my mouth without thought.

“If you’re willing to try then I am.” I held up my arms, gesturing to the inn.

“You’ll have to talk to him about this place, won’t you? We can work on your piece and only publish it when both sides of the bargain are met.”

She studied me, and her bright blue gaze was penetrating in a way I didn’t care for.

I broke from it only to be captivated by her mouth as she sucked the inside of her lip in consideration.

“What’s the full bargain?” She folded her fingers in her lap.

“What would I get out of helping you?”

I bristled at how directly she spoke of the exchange, but that was the point—this was transactional.

Of course we needed to outline the terms of whatever bargain we struck.

I looked around the room and at her.

“You want fae to come to this place?”

“I want anyone to come. I want to spread the word to all potential guests,” she said.

“You may write your column for the fae, but I assure you, everyone in Sandrin follows your recommendation.”

My cheeks heated at the compliment.

At least, I thought it was a compliment.

“Yes, well.” I looked around the room again.

The inn needed cleaning, but it had charm.

I could sell this place.

It didn’t even bother me that I was bargaining away a recommendation.

Cliff House Inn was the kind of hidden gem I’d select for my column.

The problem was that my recommendations were usually half about the product and half about the proprietor.

Readers loved to connect with the person behind the product.

They loved a good story.

My gaze landed on the ostentatiously patterned blanket she still wore as a shawl.

“We might need to update your style to help you better sell your old fae heritage.”

She flinched like I’d slapped her.

That was the first time it occurred to me that she might not consider herself old fae.

It wasn’t that far-fetched of a conclusion if she’d never been to Pierce House and didn’t claim the family page in the court record.

I kept misstepping with that.

She held more confidence than anyone I knew, old fae or otherwise.

The idea that she might not see herself that way kept slipping through my fingers.

“I—” I wasn’t sure what to say, but she cut me off.

“No, don’t hold back now. You said what you meant.” She stood, letting the shawl fall from her shoulders as she moved toward the windows.

The dress she wore underneath was also colorful, if not as bad as the wrap.

“I won’t insult your investigative skills. I’m sure you’ve done your homework. It’s why you thought I’d agree to investigate my father in the first place. I’m half-fae. I don’t count myself as one of them, but if you think to sell the inn I’ll have to sell myself as such…fine.”

I wasn’t sure how to recover from that.

My fingers twitched on the armrest as I tried to consider my following words better.

“I don’t know if you’ve read many of my recommendations, but I’ve done a few that weren’t fae-focused. They didn’t catch on the same. The products weren’t as successful.” I glanced at my favorite boots, remembering my disappointment when that article had run.

“I’m only suggesting what gives you the best chance at success.”

She didn’t turn around, still looking at the sea.

“I’ll try whatever it takes to save this place. We can do it your way, so long as it works. ”

I stood.

“We have a deal, then?”

Finally, she turned to face me.

Her previously inviting expression was gone, making me feel unwelcome here.

Maybe she was better at being old fae than she realized.

“So, you’ll prepare me for the attention of the fae. When you think I’m ready—before Long Night—you’ll feature me and the inn in your column?”

“When you’re ready, and you get me access to Pierce House.” Something like a cold wind rushed up my spine, a prickling sensation I wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

It wasn’t the playful comfort of my wind.

It was just foreboding.

“Agreed.” She held out her hand.

I wondered briefly if we needed to clarify that any romantic inclination sparked last night would need to be put on hold during this business arrangement.

My cheeks flushed at my stupidity.

She only wanted a recommendation.

The sharp lines of her previously open face told me that romance was far from her mind.

Fine.

I slipped my hand into hers.

Wind wrapped around them and then spiraled up my arm.

I could only assume it did the same to her, as she shivered and glanced longingly at the shawl still piled on the chair.

We were doing this.

“Agreed.”