Page 3 of Partnering with the Artist

“Albinism?” he asks.

I lift a hand to my long, straight white hair. “Um.”

“Wow.” Awestruck, he steps in, only my pink fox head between us as he leans down to look me in the eyes. “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re like…beach glass. So green.”

Warmth spreads easily to my very pale cheeks.

His attention flicks to them, then he puts distance between us. “Pardon the curiosity. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“N-no. It’s fine.” I can feel my hair sticking to my forehead. Am Ireallythat sweaty? In front of a man who looks and acts like aprince? Please, no. “It’s not every day most people see someone with albinism.”

“No, no. It’s not that. I’m surrounded by albinos on the regular. I’m just not surrounded by any…” He lifts my fox head. “…in fursuits.”

A tiny laugh escapes me. “R-right. That’s the only abnormality.”

“Completely.” His gentle smile tames, falling some. “Speaking ofabnormalities, I hope my security took care of that guy and cleaned up my table.”

I lift my paws to my face and whimper. “Your table… I’msosorry. I’ll pay for anything I ruined. I-it might take me a few paychecks, though.” I spent my entire savings on this suit… “My sister, you see, we live together, and she brings in most of the money cleaning for this rich—” B-word. “—um,lady. I only have a few clients that I mend, tend, wash, and fold for, then I take care of the house. I only get two dollars a load, and well.” I laugh, shaking my head against my paws. “You know how expensive it is to live in the town your family runs, I’m sure.”

He hums. “I, actually, only know the cost of fursuits.”

I peek over my paws, find him smiling languidly at me, joking. I blink at him. That’s the second sassy thing he’s said in a matter of minutes. I would not have expected the most princely of the four elite Bachelor brothers to be so…friendly. Or sarcastic.

“Sorry,” he says, when I don’t know how to reply. “You’re right. It’s not entirely cheap to live in Sunset. I don’t have exact costs because my brother Viktor handles all of the specifics. His little fiancée makes these truly phenomenal murderboards in order to delineate how things need to fit in the community, which people with which skills need to take priority on our waiting list, how much cost of living should be… It’s lovely.”

“Murderboards?” I ask.

“Like in films. With red yarn and tacks. Except all digital. In Canva. They are works of art.”

“Oh.” What an interesting way to handle all of the Bachelors’ assets. “I wasn’t aware Viktor Bachelor had a fiancée.”

“Yes, well.” Zakery leans back against the wall by the door. “He’s private, but also it just happened, some odd few days ago, right over top of my adding the finishing touches to Sunny Con. Made it easy to do whatever I wanted.”

Wow. I am…learning all kinds of things today. “You planned this convention?”

“I didn’t feel like traveling this year, but people expect me to make appearances, so…” His smile…is almost…unsettling. “I said let the little rugrats come to me.”

Um.

I don’t know how to reply to that either. It feels like I’m stuck in a closet with royalty. And this fursuit is still very heavy and very hot. Backing up, I attempt to mimic Zakery’s position against a wall, but I forgot about the stacks of boxes. Knocking directly into them, I gasp, going stiff, when the tower wobbles and cascades. Decorations—ribbons, streamers, drapery—flutteraround me, landing on top of my head and rolling toward Zakery’s feet.

Rigid, I look past the cloth runner on top of my head at him.

He puffs half a laugh, covering it with one hand while tucking my fox head under his other arm.

“I’m so sorry…” I whisper. “I’m…a klutz.” Depth perception and I are not friends.Anotherreason I needed Morana to not be a totalmoronand abandon me today. I never would have careened into Zakery’s table with her around, doing her job. She could have distracted Harry and spared me the humiliation. Since she’s my twin sister, whom Harry’s met numerous times at the family things I dragged him to, I knew there would be risk that he’d recognize her, but I also knew that it would be very normal for her to be at a con in the town where we live and he’d not be the type to place the random furry aswith her. He’s always been bad at putting two and two together.

The point is: I wouldn’t be in a closet with my pitiful object permanence surrounded by a horrific mess if my only sister loved me.

“Klutzes…” Zakery strides forward, toeing effortlessly around the disarray. “…are…” He stops, reaching to remove the runner on my head. “…cute.” He lets the fabric flutter to the ground beside me as his cold, cold hand cups my chin.

My stomach bottoms out.

He examines my eyes, deeply, putting me on horrific edge—yet I can’t look away any better than I can think. Swearing softly, he murmurs, “You really are beautiful.”

Is he—

He can’t be.

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