Hotel Magnifique(58)

I dropped my hand. I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re sending me back? Without my sister?”

“I’m saving you.”

I couldn’t begin to imagine how Bel arranged that. He must have promised Alastair something obscene.

He fished in his pocket then pressed cold coins in my palm. Silver dublonnes. “For passage to your village,” he said. “Congratulations. Alastair voided your contract. You get to go home.”

I flinched at the word, and my heart plummeted. I’d spent years trying to get home, but I knew without a doubt that Aligney would never be home without Zosa.

“Don’t you get it? Home doesn’t mean anything to me without the people I love.” When he was silent, my fingers curled into fists.

Deep down, I knew Bel probably had a good reason for all of this, but the idea that he would rid himself of me so easily made my lungs squeeze. My teeth clenched, and I wanted him to feel what this was doing to me, to know how much it hurt.

I lifted my chin, bitter anger coursing through me. “You’re not just sending me back. You’re pushing me away like you do to everyone inside this place. Was I always just some worker for you to use then toss aside?” My pathetic lips began to wobble. “God, I don’t want to cry in front of you.”

“Jani—”

“When I first came here, I thought you didn’t care about anyone. But after all these weeks, things between us feel different. And now . . . now you’re throwing me out like I’m nothing to you.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

He reached out. Rough fingers smoothed over my neck.

“What are—” My words cut off with a gasp. He dipped his thumb under the neckline of my dress to tangle with Maman’s necklace. His other hand stretched toward me, fingertips grazing my waist, and his eyes darkened. Slowly, languorously, his gaze slid down my face, coming to a stop on my mouth.

I held my breath until Bel shook his head and stepped back.

“You’re not nothing to me,” he said, almost to himself. “That’s precisely the problem.”



* * *





A short while later, Yrsa arrived with the twins. I pulled away when she snatched my arm. “Struggle all you want. The more you do, the greater chance the ma?tre will let me cut out one of your fine eyes before you’re sent on your way.” When I blanched, she smiled and tugged me along, the twins at my back.

Still before midnight, the lobby had filled with guests waiting for the hotel to move. Béatrice stood in the corner dabbing her cheeks with a hanky, whereas Bel leaned against a back wall and pretended not to see me.

The suminaire with her feather blew pink smoke over a row of guests, their ornate gowns rippling through a sunset of hues. Alastair stood with them. He caught my eyes then looked away, as if I were nothing but dirt under his shoe.

I didn’t care.

I would do whatever he asked to stay on. I’d stir soup and scrub toilets until my palms bled. I could race over, beg him. I spun away from Yrsa.

“Wrong way.” Her hand jerked my frock. My heel connected with a tree root and I pitched forward. My knees hit the ground, followed by my jaw, and I spat blood from a split lip onto the roots. Fitting I would leave this place under an orange tree, same as I came. Good thing I didn’t manage to break one.

My eyes widened. Bel’s flippant words about Alastair and the oranges raced through my mind. If he knew you broke one, he’d never let you leave.

When I broke an orange, he’d hid it from Yrsa, taken the blame. I didn’t know if breaking another orange would buy me an audience with Alastair, but if I could touch one, knock it from the branch, it might at least buy me time.

One last tree at the door.

I reached for it, but Sazerat took my shoulders and shoved me. I brought my fist up and watched in shock as it vanished at the line of the doorframe. No, not vanished: a cold, wet breeze skated across my knuckles from somewhere on the other side.

I strained against him, boot heels slipping against slick marble. I kicked out and caught a branch of oranges with my heel. A few broke off, but I couldn’t hear if they smashed because the woman’s obnoxiously effervescent voice said, “Farewell, traveler!”

My eyes squeezed shut.

I smelled it first. Gone was the desert jasmine, replaced with a familiar tang of salt brine. I lost track of where I was in that in-between space. I felt Sazerat’s hands on my shoulders and tasted Durc on my tongue. Bile inched up my throat.

“There’s a girl!” someone shouted in Verdanniere. A southern accent. A fisherman’s accent.

Oh god.

Strong fingers grabbed my sides, pulling me back. My eyes shot open to the slam of a lacquered door in my face. I bit back a sob and looked up. At Alastair. He panted like he’d just sprinted the length of the lobby.

The oranges from the branch I had kicked were smashed across the floor. Bel stood behind the tree, eyes locked on me, horrified.

A satisfied smile curved across Alastair’s lips. “The girl stays.”





Yrsa turned around, seeing the mess of oranges for the first time. “Ma?tre, I didn’t realize—”

“You didn’t.” Alastair silenced her with a single look. “Get behind the bar,” he ordered. “Now.” She nodded and motioned for the twins to follow. But Alastair put a hand on Sazerat’s shoulder. “Report to my office in an hour,” he said to the twin.