Ella didn’t want to wait outside, for fear of the Baron seeing her and asking questions. Also, her cardigan was hand-knitted and lovely, but didn’t provide much in the way of warmth against the snow and occasional icy gusts that kicked up around her.
The jingle overhead as she entered drew a few eyes her way, so she ducked her head and beelined for the bathroom in the back of the bistro. The café had a slate floor, stone fireplaces, and plenty of cozy nooks for polite conversations over tea and scones. It was typical of the East Village, where the more affluent people lived. Her father’s colonial was nice, spacious and completely paid off, but even that would be considered a tiny house in these parts that were closer to the palace. These were citizens with old money, admired by people like her stepmother, who were trying to convince everyone she deserved a better zip code with her constant struggle to keep up the appearance of wealth.
Ella had never cared what she looked like, so long as she didn’t draw too much attention. This time, however, she glanced in the mirror with dashed expectations. She had bags under her eyes, her cheeks were beaten pink from the wind, her curly blonde hair was a mess, and her clothes were… Ella knew she’d be labeled a servant anywhere she went, dressed like this in the East Village.
She squared her shoulders in the mirror, reminding herself that she was her father’s daughter, and the details of her current state didn’t matter as much as that one shining fact that lifted her chin. She straightened her hair as best she could, and made sure she didn’t have any smudges on her skin from her morning chores.
Ella moved back out into the bistro, trying not to look as if she didn’t belong. The universe had led her to this place, so she wasn’t about let herself believe she wasn’t welcome in it. She sat down and ordered a plain black tea (the cheapest thing on the menu), letting the steaming cup warm her hands.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, love,” came a voice from behind her. “I had to make sure you came alone.”
Ella turned and found Henry in a booth, a hat on and his face obscured by a newspaper. “How long have you been there?” She brought her cup to sit across from him, charmed by his covert-ops body language.
“I was only five minutes away when you called. You’d be surprised how many women try to seduce my nickers off of me, and then attempt to capture me on film in compromising positions. I had to make sure you weren’t working with one of the tabloids.” He stood and motioned toward the kitchen. “Actually, we’ll be dining in the breakroom here. Fewer prying eyes.”
Ella’s mouth popped open. “I hope this is one of your bits that you think is hilarious, but goes over my head. No one’s ever done that to you, have they?”
“Not this month.” He opened the swinging double doors for her, ushering her into the kitchen. Ella cast the cook an apologetic look, but the portly gentleman responded by motioning toward another set of doors to the right. Henry clapped the cook on the shoulder and touched Ella’s elbow, walking with her through the kitchen to the empty break room.
The dining area of the bistro was upscale and cozy. While the breakroom lacked a few of the fashionable furnishings, the slate floor, tall wrought iron tables and chairs, and ficus in the corner were no less welcoming.
Henry set down his newspaper and slid onto his chair, warming her with a companionable gaze as she took the seat across from him. “Much better. Thanks for not being afraid I’ll murder you in the back alley.”
“I haven’t ruled it out, but I’m pretty sure I could take you if you tried anything ungentlemanly.”
He took off his hat, casting her a sidelong wink. “Well, then I’ll have to be on my best behavior.”
“You know the owner? Nice that they let you do this.”
“I own the business, actually. But yes, I do still ask permission to borrow the breakroom if I need a quiet place away from prying eyes. I’ve learned to be a bit more careful over the years, but every now and then, I still get caught unawares.”
She closed her eyes and lowered her chin. “That is the saddest thing I’ve heard in days. How do you let your guard down and just enjoy your life?”
“I manage.”
“Well, no one will hear about you from me.”
He ran his finger along the brim of his hat as he fiddled with it atop the table. “That’s one of the things that drew me toward you. You seemed even more covetous of your privacy than I am. Is there a reason for that?”
“If there was, do you think I would tell you?” she countered, squeezing the lemon wedge into her tea.
Henry sighed and straightened in his seat. “So, you’re concerned about a matter of national security. Is this something I should bring in my guard for?”
Ella’s mouth drew to the side. “Not while I’m here. I don’t want anyone to see us together. But after I leave, yes. You should probably tell him.”
Henry glanced down at his toned stomach beneath his crisp white dress shirt. “Have I gotten fat? Are you truly this embarrassed to be seen with me? I’ve got half a mind to take dozens of photos of us together and post them all over Royal Watch.”
Ella paled, imagining how badly the beating would be if a photo of her got on the Holy Grail of gossip websites before Drizella or Anastasia ever made an appearance on there. They checked the online feed religiously, and had made it their life goal to make themselves important enough to be seen hanging with the elite. “Please don’t do that. Maybe I should go.”
Henry reached across the table and placed his hand atop hers. “No! I was only joking. Please, Henrietta. Stay. Tell me what’s bothering you. Tell me what makes you smile. Tell me anything at all.”
She settled back onto her stool, melting at the feel of his hand on hers. He left it there, and she let him, even going so far as to open her hand and invite his fingers to hold onto hers. “I overheard something, and didn’t know who to turn to. It seemed important, and probably time-sensitive.” She kept her voice quiet, gluing her eyes to their joined hands, savoring the image as she powered through the difficult report. “The Baron’s involved in a plan to take out a few key members of the council. He wants to replace them with people who will vote for his policies, like Mr. Herchon.”
Henry straightened, casting aside his playful demeanor and donning his business face. “Take them out, how?”
“By setting Lethals loose on them. Eustace and Caleb are their first targets, and after that they’ll move on to the others on the council who usually vote to support the Chancellor’s policies.”
“You heard the Baron say this?”
“Yes, and a roomful of other men I don’t really know enough to pick out just by the sound of their voices. Mr. Herchon was there, but I couldn’t tell you who else. Someone suggested attacking Remus Johnstone, but the Baron pushed against that, since Remus’ magic is so much more powerful than anyone else’s. He didn’t want anyone close to the Chancellor attacked, since they’re being followed so closely by the press these days. They’re playing the circuitous route, taking down the Chancellor’s authority by slowly replacing his supporters on the council. Cutting his legs off so his policies have no strength to stand.”
Henry swore and pulled out his phone. “Victor, yes. Put in a call to Christopher. I’ve just been made aware of a plot on Eustace and Caleb’s lives. Also, call Benjamin and make sure Rory doesn’t go anywhere. Remus, either. They’re not targets, but best be safe.” He answered a few more perfunctory questions before hanging up.
Ella’s shoulders relaxed, now that her message had been delivered. “Thank you for believing me.”
“Of course. Worse thing that happens is that nothing happens, and we upped their security for no reason. That’s a regret I can live with. You were right to call me about this. Wrong to not call me for anything other than this.” He squinted one eye at her in mild scolding, but didn’t press the matter any further.
Ella stirred her tea, mulling over the plot. “It’s strategic. I didn’t hear the rest of the plan, but if I was the Baron and I really wanted my policy to get pushed through, I wouldn’t just put my people on the council; I’d make sure the Lethals I’d sent in to kill the councilmembers were caught and prosecuted for their attacks. That way he’ll have even more division from the public on what to do with the Lethals. When there’s dissention that’s whipped up to a frenzy, more radical policies have a better chance at getting passed, even when they might not be beneficial for the public. This is perfect timing to sway people to his side for the vote on Proposition 7.” She’d had to endure several evenings of the Baron droning on about his opinions on Lethals in general, and that he wanted manufacturing of the pill to be sold to the highest bidder.
Henry nodded, his brows pushed together as he pondered the impending peril. “You’re right. If the Baron’s smart, he’ll keep his name out of the whole process. Have one of the others hire the Lethals and stay far away from the action himself.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I loathe stuff like this. I’m guessing you won’t come forward and make a statement of all you heard?”
Ella pursed her lips and slowly shook her head. “That would make things very…”
“Complicated?” Henry guessed. “I understand. But unless we catch him with a dagger in his hand hovered over old Eustace himself, it’s not going to stop.”
“One battle won gives us a clearer picture of the war.”
“Have you been sneaking peeks into my journal? I feel like I had a similar entry last week. Only, I was referring to my plans to cajole Carlotta into making every Saturday pot roast day.”
“That’s a noble priority. A good pot roast is worth a little espionage.”
Henry called his guard again, relaying the additional suspicions and hanging up. “Is that all, then?”
“I thought that was a big enough deal to warrant a phone call, but yeah, that’s all.”
Henry sighed and seemed to relax, his shoulders loosening. “Brilliant. Then we can put away the harrowing spy nature of our relationship, and get to the bottom of which dragon needs to be slain so that we can see each other more often.”
Ella laughed through her nose. “You’re persistent. I’ve got to be honest, though. I’m not sure you’ll get what you want.”
“Which is?”
“Someone you can be with. I’m not that girl.”
Henry frowned at the red light. “Not that girl for me, or for anybody?”
“For anybody. Trust me. I’m caught up in a world of frustration that you don’t want to be part of. I’m doing you a giant favor.”
“If only you’d let me decide that for myself. I’m desperate to know anything about you.”
Ella cast around the quaint breakroom, taking in the corkboard with different menu items and notices tacked up. “Um, Let’s see. Something about me. I made this cardigan.”
“It’s very nice. I think I’d like one to match.”
She took a sip of her tea and glanced at him over the top of the cup. “You would not.”
“I would. And I want it in that exact same blue, to remind myself of the striking color of your eyes.” His nose wrinkled. “Too cheesy? I meant it, but when I heard myself say it, I cringed.”
“Well, I only prefer cringe-worthy compliments.”
“Should I start everything with, ‘Hey baby’? Oh, I recently heard of a brilliant one. Almost lost my lunch when a man called the girl he fancies ‘tasty cakes’ while leering at her.”
The two blanched in unison. Ella shook her head. “Unacceptable. She should’ve slapped him for the sake of all women everywhere. Gross.”
“If it helps lessen the offense to your feminine consciousness, she didn’t warm to his advances. I actually did a fair bit of puppet mastering to get her away from him. She works for one of my best friends now. No one’s crazy enough to mess with anyone on his property.”
“Sounds like she’s lucky you intervened. Is your friend a good guy?”
“Adam Fontaine?” Henry thought on this while he sipped his tea. “No. Not really. She’s safer with him, though. Adam won’t hit on her in disgusting ways.” Henry met Ella’s eyes. “Do you know much about Adam?”
“Only what Lady Tremaine’s daughters talk about from they read on Royal Watch, and of course what everyone knows Malaura did to him almost a decade ago. I can’t imagine much of what’s been posted in Royal Watch is true, though.”
“What if it is?” Henry kept his eyes on his coffee. “What if one of my closest friends hears things that aren’t there, and sees people who are long gone? What if he’s agoraphobic and surly?”
Ella watched his weighted expression as she inhaled the fragrance of her tea, relishing the beverage she hadn’t had to make in a slow drip contraption after roasting it multiple times. “It sounds like Adam’s very lucky to have you in his corner, puppet mastering people into his life.” She took a drink, and then reached across the quaint table to trace the outside of his pointer finger all the way to the tip. Something inside of her called out to touch Henry. Though she couldn’t take him home, part of her wanted to tempt herself with the tantalizing offer to let at least her finger pretend as if she could indulge in the things she wanted. “It also looks like you need a friend who’s well enough to be good to you, and it’s a shame that Adam might not be able to be that guy right now.”
Henry’s lashes swept shut as he fended off the loneliness of not having the proper friendship he needed in his isolated existence. He welcomed in Ella’s words, letting her gentleness wash over the jagged edges of his psyche. “It’s a relief just to say it out loud to someone. Thanks for listening.”
“Thanks for talking.” She tilted her head to the side. The kindness her father instilled in her from birth pushed her to measure out the sadness in his eyes, and she gauged his burdens only halfway lifted. “What else is weighing you down? Worrying about Adam bothers you, but there’s more.”
“Am I that obviously miserable?”
“You’re that obviously caring. Caring people have a hard time accepting that the world around them might always be a little bit broken.” Her fingers took a chance, pushing her forward to brush a tickle across his palm, giving him her hand to hold onto when he felt lost.
“It’s Rory. I don’t like that she married a Lethal—a ridiculously powerful one on top of it. Cord’s a good guy, but I wouldn’t have chosen for her to fall in love with someone who might accidentally roll over in bed one night and electrocute my dearest friend. But of course, I can’t say anything. If I do, everyone will assume that I’m all jilted because we were betrothed and she married Cordray, but Rory and I were never like that. Rory, Adam and I are closer than siblings. I even stood up as her Maid of Honor in her wedding.”
“Did you get to wear a pretty dress?”
“No,” Henry pouted. “Rory wouldn’t let me. Had to be predictable and wear a tux.”
Ella tsked and shook her head. “Shame. You in heels? That’s a sight the world would swoon for.”
He sniggered at her teasing and got up to slide his stool closer to hers, keeping his hand in hers the whole time as he sat back down. “Nah. The men of the world already feel inferior to my good looks. I wouldn’t want to make the women question their beauty as well.”
Ella’s eyes fell to their joined hands, loving the way they looked together. Though he was more polished, their hands didn’t care. They clung to each other, doing what the rest of her heart was too fearful to act on. “It sounds like you’re in a rough spot with Rory. You want to be honest with her so she’s more careful, but you don’t feel it’s your place.”
“Exactly! And I really do like Cordray. He’s a solid guy.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Not to sound petty, but would you want your sister to marry a Lethal, no matter how nice a guy he was?”
Ella ran her thumb over Henry’s knuckles while she mulled over his dilemma. “Since she’s married to him, there’s not much you can do, other than be supportive. If you’re feeling all of this, I’m sure it’s nothing that hasn’t crossed her mind, too. You confronting her about her dangerous choice won’t do anything except make her feel all those worries she has to tuck away in order to enjoy her marriage.” She bumped her shoulder to his. “Also, the more time you spend with Cordray, the less worried you’ll be about the whole thing. Hopefully you’ll learn that he’s responsible about either wearing his gloves, or about taking his pill.”
Henry glanced at her sideways. “That wasn’t bad advice.”
“I have my moments.” She took a sip of her tea, loving the luxury of sitting for so long. “There’s more to your fears than that. Something deeper. Talk to me.”
Henry’s chest puffed with bravado, ready to push it all off and claim that he was fine, but the sincerity in her cerulean eyes gave him pause. “How do you do that? My whole goal most days is to make jokes so I don’t have to reveal anything real about myself, but one cup of tea with you, and I’m hopeless at keeping my mouth shut.”
“I’m sorry you can’t lean on your regular friends. With Adam being ill and Rory getting married, it’s got to be hard for you to be heard at all by the people who matter.”
“It is. No one gets that because I rarely have private moments, but when I do, I want to be able to be a person. You know about Adam’s curse, I’m sure.”
“The whole ‘he’ll turn into a member of the Lupine when the last rose petal falls’ bit? Yeah. Malaura was terrible. What a wretched person for nature to give that much power to.”
“Agreed. Adam carries around her curse like that’s all he is. Rory’s grown up her whole life with her curse hanging over her head, and only just beat it.” Henry stared at Ella’s fingers, slowly touching each of her unpolished nails while he worked out the words. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding melodramatic.”
“I won’t judge you.” Ella slid her elbow toward his, joining the outside of their forearms together, and making their huddle more intimate. “How about you stop being afraid to be yourself around me, and I’ll promise to let you be yourself, no matter how melodramatic you might worry you sound.”
Henry stared into her eyes, seeing the honesty there for the open invitation it was. He wanted to kiss her, to draw out her lower lip just so he could have something sweet to suck on. His body wanted to lean in and close the gap between them, but part of him knew that if she wasn’t ready to give him her name, then she probably wouldn’t appreciate a make-out session in the breakroom.
He cleared his throat and reminded himself of their conversation. “It feels like the people around me are perpetually cursed. Like my curse is to watch the people I love struggle for years under the weight of far too much, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”
Ella exhaled in a soft, “Oh,” that was filled with sadness for his plight. “That’s terrible, Henry. You must feel so helpless and lonely, like you have to be positive and strong all the time to hold everyone else up.”
“That’s exactly how it feels.” He let out a deep-rooted exhale that had been churning in his soul for far too long.
“Who holds you up?” Ella asked, compassion welling in her. She couldn’t bear the thought of someone so sweet feeling so very alone.
“My father, sometimes. Though, he’s busy with all the shifting that’s happening on the political landscape, so I don’t like to bother him too much.”
“Bother him,” Ella pushed without preamble. “He’ll thank you for it. Bother him any time of the day or night. If there’s one thing I regret, it’s that I can’t bother my father anymore, and I didn’t do it enough while he was alive.”
“I’m sorry. How long as he been gone?”
“Two years. Life without him is…” She shook her head at herself and settled back into her chair to feign calmness while the storm of sadness brewed in her chest. “Bother him, Henry. Tonight when you get home. Promise me you’ll bother him.”
Henry leaned back in his stool that was pushed up next to hers and banded his arm lightly around her shoulders. “I promise.”
It was all too much. Her gentleness, the way she made him open up and fight for making his life better. He knew he couldn’t kiss her lips yet, so he compromised and drew her closer to him, so she was tucked into his side. His arm felt like it belonged slung around her hips, as though it was the first time that series of muscles had ever relaxed. Both of them began to breathe easier, taking in long drags to inhale the scent of each other, and appreciate how well their bodies fit together.
He pressed his lips to her temple, letting them linger there while he spoke. “Tell me your name,” he whispered.
The debate was strong inside of her, warring between her need to keep him away from her messy situation, and her desire to be closer… so much closer. “Henry,” she replied, hoping the lie would suffice.
“I think we’re past that.”
She closed her eyes, daring herself to be brave. “Ella,” she admitted in a whisper.
Henry inhaled sharply and hugged her closer, gratitude beaming out from him. “Finally! Was that truly so hard?”
“Yes,” she giggled, wrapping her arm around his middle like it was the most natural thing in the world. Though they barely knew each other, their bodies understood the dance without instruction.
Henry tilted her chin up, his arm still curved around her to keep them inseparable. “Thank you, Ella. It’s nice to finally meet you properly.”
Ella knew she should pull back, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn her chin from his tender touch. He was inviting, always inviting, and when she stared into his blue eyes, she found she couldn’t remember her many reasons for resisting him. He leaned in slowly, giving her handfuls of seconds in which she could’ve pulled away.
But she didn’t lean back from him. Instead, she angled her chin up, her lashes sweeping shut to welcome the kiss she’d been trying not to dream about.
It was the worst time for her stomach to growl, but it had been silent long enough. She jerked away and banded her arms around her midsection. “Sorry. So embarrassing.”
Henry ran his hand over his face to snap himself out of the haze that overtook his desire to remain gentlemanly. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
“No, no. I’m fine. You fed me last time. I don’t want that to be your abiding memory of me.”
He drew his lips to the side at her pride. “You’re saying you wouldn’t eat a lunch I made for you?”
“Your chef cooking us something isn’t you making a meal,” Ella sassed him with a scolding smile, standing as he stood. “You don’t cook.”
Henry wound his arm around her hips once again, surprised to find that his body wouldn’t tolerate separating from hers. “Boy, are you going to be sorry you said that. What should I make you eat first—crow or humble pie?”
“Surprise me, Chef.”
“Oh, Ella. Don’t you know? Meeting you was my greatest surprise.”