Page 86 of Shadows of Perl

“Find her and bring her to me.”

They leave and I can’t breathe.

Exhausted from lessons and the anxiety of the afternoon, I retreat to the bathroom. I turn the spigot until my bathwater is as cold as it can be and I step inside. I hug my knees to my chest and slip my head underwater to quiet everything until I can’t hold my breath anymore. I should sneak back to the guesthouse and take a more thorough look around. But there are people all over the grounds. Outside my window, I can hear the festivities ramping up.

This party will be on the cover of Debs Daily tomorrow. And not with the headline Beaulah thinks. Adola failing is going to make a mess of this tonight. I wish there was a way I could help her. If she’d even accept it.

Then it hits me.

Everyone will be hyper focused on Adola and celebrating afterward. If I want to get another look at that guesthouse, my best chance is tonight.

The door to my bedroom opens suddenly. Charlie! But before I can move, Jordan’s voice floats into the bathroom.

“Thank you,” he says. “I can handle it from here.”

“I’ll be outside the door should you need anything, sir.”

I clamp my mouth shut and slip out of the tub, trying my hardest to not slosh the water. The door closes and something heavy hits the floor. Wrapped in a robe, I peek into the bedroom through the bathroom doors, which, thankfully, are only slightly ajar. And there he is, standing in my—his—room!

He pulls a tux out of his bag and lays it across my bed. My mind races. All my things are neatly put away, thanks to Della. The only sign someone has been here is a glass of water on the bedside, some notes in a drawer, and a wardrobe full of dresses. He takes off his coat. Then he pulls his shirt off over his head. I’m dripping wet on the marble floor. My heart is in my throat.

I glance back at the balcony doors, torn on which would be worse: to have Jordan catch me in this bathroom or to have random houseguests see me climbing down the side of the estate, basically naked. Panic takes flight in my chest.

Jordan stops, holding his own chest.

His expression sharpens with concentration.

The trace.

My grip on the door tightens, and I take a deliberate, long breath. My pulse slows. He doesn’t move for several moments before unbuckling his belt, tossing it aside, and grabbing a fresh towel from the folded stack beside the bed. He rolls his neck, the hard lines of his body flexing. I look away. He is perfect in every way and it pricks me like a needle. A reminder that he fits in this world in a way that I never will.

My toushana purrs awake. The more I stare at him half dressed, the angrier I become. I could take him by surprise right now, drown him in shadows until I choke the life out of him. I could hurt him before he hurts me. Trust your instincts. Beaulah’s words resound in my head. My toushana roils, and cold fills my bones when Jordan wanders to the bedside table and finds my half-empty glass. He grimaces, then checks the wardrobe, before marching toward the door.

“Sir?” He disappears down the hall, and I take the chance to dart into the bedroom and grab clothes. Their voices are muffled, but I perk up my ears as I slip on underclothes and throw a silk dress over my head.

“Is there someone staying in my room?”

His crisp tuxedo shirt and fine tailored jacket both lie across my bed. A red gem more brilliant than any I’ve ever seen hangs from a silver chain.

“I know the Headmistress is filled to the brim with guests,” Jordan goes on. “Have they spilled into the House?”

I try to listen but their conversation quiets. The pendant is the shape of a heart, smooth and shiny. How endearing. A heart pendant for a man without one. He must be so proud. I could spit. And I consider doing so when I spot a colorful something peeking out from beneath his suit. I slide the items over and find a half-eaten bag of candy. Time seems to still. I take a green one, and a wave of emotion wells up in me as I remember. A heaviness settles in my chest. Somehow my cheeks are wet. I swipe beneath my eyes, wishing I could claw away the memories.

I dash back toward the bathroom, but then I think better of it and hide behind the trick bookcase instead. I pull it closed just as he returns. Through the peepholes I see him; the green candy is still crushed in my fist. His brow is furrowed and his hand grazes his chest. How can he still do this to me? I crush the candy and watch him.

He studies the opened bag with an etch between his brows.

I don’t move.

Knock. Knock. “Mr. Wexton, I’ve found you a room.”

He glances around once more before opening the door.

“The starting horn will blow in a matter of minutes,” the attendant says.

“I’m going to need another favor.” Jordan’s jaw hardens as they depart.

I sag against the wall. No distractions. Focus on what’s important. What do I want? I hustle down the hidden corridors for the hunting grounds. Next stop: the guesthouse.

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