finished my shift at the shop, the sun had slipped behind the buildings to the west. I could still see its orange glow down the streets that ran all the way to the Hudson River. I followed it until I reached the upper edge of Riverside Park—Berron’s favorite hangout, where I’d promised to meet him at the fountain facing Riverside Drive.
The fountain was one of a handful of horse troughs built when horsepower still meant four legs. A stone eagle with wings spread perched on top of the fountain, its talons resting on oak leaves and acorns. A fanciful fish head spewed clean water into a stylized shell, where it then tumbled into a broad, shallow basin.
Berron was nowhere to be seen.
It was something I’d noticed about him. He wasn’t there, until he suddenly was. Until he chose to let you notice him. Like he wore some kind of camouflage.
And then he was there, sitting casually on the low stone wall to the side of the fountain, smiling like he had a secret.
I sat next to him on the stone wall. “What are you grinning about?” I said, tilting my head back and attempting to fan away my sweat.
“Are you hot?”
“No, I just do this for fun.”
He reached for my hand, but I instinctively leaned away. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. His words shouldn’t have soothed me, but they did. I was no better than Jester, relaxing at his suggestion. Damn the Gentry and their understated magic.
He pried my hand away from where I’d crossed my arms, and wrapped it in his own hands. Gold magic and the scent of crisp leaves rippled between us. As the magic sank beneath my skin, delicious coolness filled me. I fought the urge to exhale with relief.
“Better?”
I nodded.
Satisfied, he returned my hand to the top of my leg and gave it a doctorly pat.
“Does that work for all temperatures?”
He tipped his head back, chuckled to himself. “How else would I sleep outside?”
“You sleep outside? You never told me that.”
“You never asked.”
“I thought you had some sort of apartment somewhere, filled with handmade wood furniture and pure linen sheets. Or something.”
“I do. But I don’t spend much time there. It’s not home.”
Home. Mine was Poppy’s cheerful townhouse, but also a thousand miles away, in the funky Orlando neighborhood I’d left behind. How could such a simple four-letter word split your heart in two? And which spot claimed it more?
Berron didn’t speak for a few moments. He shook his head, making a rueful twist of his lips. “I think I’ve been away too long.”
“You visit all the time though, right? That’s where that horse came from,” I said, remembering the day of the opening party.
“Yes.” He chafed his hands, though he couldn’t have been cold. “But it’s not the same. It’s not enough. Not since—” He stopped. We both knew what he meant.
“How does the horse get along in there?”
“I bring her food. From outside. And she’s never…” He paused, looking for the right words. “Fallen asleep. As it were.”
“Is that what happened to your people?”
Berron nodded, his gaze troubled and distant.
I squeezed his arm. “I’m ready to go with you.”
He turned and met my gaze, drinking in my intention, testing it like I would taste a batch of soup. “You’re ready?”
“I arranged extra help at the shop. My aunt wanted to come up and visit Lily anyway—Lily’s her granddaughter—and she’ll step in as needed while I’m gone.”
He looked genuinely surprised. “Your aunt? Here?”
“Why does that surprise you?”
He shrugged, possibly to cover the fact that he looked flustered. “They’re so far away! Your family, I mean.”
“Berron, I don’t know if you know this, but they have these things called planes—”
“Just because I can’t fly on them doesn’t mean I don’t know what they are, thank you very much.”
Curiosity got the better of me. “What would happen if you did? Fly, I mean?”
“Ever heard of Sleeping Beauty? Well, that’s what would happen, only no amount of kissing would wake me up.”
Now there was a mental image. “Is it the same for the Blessed, if they try to leave Manhattan?”
“They remain awake, but suffer agonizing pain.” He smiled at the thought.
“Harsh.” I cleared my throat. “Speaking of the Blessed… how would you feel about Daniel coming with us?”
He laughed. “You’re not serious.” He looked at me. “You are serious.” He pushed off the wall and paced next to the fountain. When he stopped, his tall frame was framed by the stone eagle wings, making him look like an angel. An avenging angel, considering the look on his face. “Why would I want someone like him tagging along? Bring Poppy, if you must. She’s harmless.”
“Poppy is not ‘harmless.’” Even if Poppy was as harmless as a sleeping puppy, I wouldn’t stand for anyone to dismiss her.
Berron waved his elegant hand. “You know what I mean.” Then gave me a look laced with distaste. “Why do you want Daniel along, anyway?”
“Because,” I said, pausing because I hadn’t quite worked that part out, not entirely, anyway, other than an instinct that having Daniel and Poppy along felt like the right thing to do, “because he can help me maintain my energy—my strength—while we’re there.”
“Bah. Get him to top you up before you leave.”
“It fades.”
“We won’t stay too long.”
“How do you know that?”
He planted his hands on his hips, turned away. Then he turned on his heels and faced me again. “There is none of what he needs in my realm.” Blood, he meant, without having to say it. “None that he’s permitted to have, anyway.”
“He doesn’t need it that often.”
Berron dropped into a crouch in front of me. “Zelda. Listen to me. My kind, his kind—we are the oldest of enemies. You can’t ask this.”
“I’m not asking it lightly.”
He bowed his head, then looked up. “Please.”
I reached for his hand and the magic spun between us again. With his great height folded before me, my words came out slower and gentler than they might have if he had towered over me. “You’re relying on me to solve this mystery, to understand what happened to your home, because I have my grandmother’s gift.”
My thoughts became clear even as I spoke; what felt right had reasons behind it—and now I knew what they were. “But that gift isn’t perfect. I can’t do everything that Poppy can do. And I’m sure that you and Daniel have abilities that exceed mine. There may be something one of you can do, something one of you can see, that ends up being the key to solving this. I need all of you.” I squeezed his hand. “Just because your kind and his kind are enemies doesn’t mean that you and he have to be enemies.”
Berron cocked his head and studied me for a long moment. “Oh, you sweet summer child.”
“Get off,” I said, rolling my eyes and releasing his hand with a backwards push.
He landed on his backside, laughing. “What?”
“Don’t ‘sweet summer child’ me.” I crossed my arms and turned away.
He was up and sitting on the wall next to me in a blink. “Ah, my Zelda—”
“Not your Zelda. And don’t try to soothe me, or whatever it is you Gentry do.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I snorted. “You probably do it without even thinking about it.” I was still turned away, so he leaned in and rested his chin on my shoulder.
“Do I?” His warm breath tickled my cheek. “Is this soothing you?”
I pressed my lips together. How could anyone be so effortlessly exasperating? Yet my breath synced with his, and we gazed silently at the splashing fountain, in peace, as the last of the orange sunlight cast the eagle, the fish, and the carvings of leaves and acorns into shadow.
Stirring was like waking from a dream. “What will we need to bring with us?”
“You mean besides stout hearts and strong arms?”
I managed a smile. “Yeah.”
“It’s cooler there than it is here, now. You need warm clothing.”
“I have that.”
“Something that won’t look out of place.”
“What does that mean?”
He plucked at the frayed hem of my cutoffs. “Something that looks like you belong with the Gentry. Natural fibers, too.”
I remembered that day at the Mirror, when Berron had appeared dressed as a Gentry prince, all warm browns and greens, accented with gold, the very picture of forest royalty. “Why does it matter, if everyone’s asleep?”
“The goal is for them not to be. And—to be honest—man-made fabrics smell.”
I sat up straight, which forced him to do the same, and gave him a look. “They smell?”
“Not a lot, mind you, but yes. They do.”
“How about my man-made underpants? Those okay?” I asked, sarcasm at full strength.
“I wouldn’t dream of criticizing someone’s”—he cleared his throat—“personal items.”
I laughed. “Poor Prince. Can’t even say ‘underpants.’ Some smooth talker you are.”
“I can say it. I was only trying to be respectful.” He hunched up and looked for all the world like an oversized, offended cat. “If my people smell something offensive in their sleep, they may have nightmares—and no way to wake up from them.”
Well, slap me with a cold cut. I wasn’t going to give a bunch of innocent Gentry bad dreams just because I like rayon undies. “Hey,” I said, giving Berron’s shoulder a little shake, to make the point. “No nightmares. No problem.” Then a thought occurred to me: how would I get Poppy and Daniel to go along with it? Poppy would be agreeable, that was her nature, but Daniel…
“You’re frowning,” Berron said.
“Am I?”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s kind of a big ask to make Poppy and Daniel buy new clothes just to fit in.”
“Why? They’re both rich.”
I punched him in the arm. “You’re being demanding.”
“Am I?” he said, all innocence.
I shot him a look, and he pretended to duck and cover.
“All right,” he said, stifling a laugh. “I’ll pay for it. In fact, why don’t you get your cousin to make us a few things? Didn’t you say she sewed, and she needed money?”
“How am I going to explain to Lily why we need matching outfits made for a trip we can’t talk about?”
“They don’t have to match.” He made a face of disgust. “Ugh. Matching with Daniel.”
“You know what I mean.”
“You just have to smell less human—and look more Gentry, in case everyone wakes up,” he added, hopefully. Then he stood, pivoted to face Riverside Park, and surveyed the trees below like they were his very own domain. A mischievous smile slid across his face. “I think I have an idea.”