Hotel Magnifique(74)

“For bringing back artéfacts?” Bel nodded. I couldn’t believe it. “So whatever he rewards you with is more important than all of us? More important than my sister?”

“That’s not what I meant.” He picked mud from his sleeve. “I should get upstairs before I’m seen like this.”

“What did you mean?”

With one swift movement, he ripped the map from my pocket and stuffed it down his own. “I’m getting rid of this thing.”

I stood there like a fool watching guests jump out of his way as he bowled through them toward the caged lift.

I shot after him, but he was already on the platform. King Zelig had nearly closed the cage when I skidded to a halt. I wrenched it open. Bel tried to push me away, but I ducked under his arm and forced myself in.

“Floor?” Zelig asked.

Bel glared at me.

“Six,” I replied.

“I’m ripping it up.”

“I’ll draw another.”

“Then I’ll destroy that one, too. I’m not taking you to Champilliers.”

“Why? We have nothing. What are you so afraid to lose?” When he remained quiet, I slammed a palm on the cage. King Zelig backed away. “I thought you were different, but Yrsa was right. You only care about yourself.”

Bel’s eyes squeezed shut through an entire floor. He seemed to come to some decision because his shoulders relaxed. He exhaled and said, “Alastair rewards me with memories.”

My breath froze. The distant sounds of music, laughter, the clinking champagne glasses—nothing registered as I tried to make sense of his words.

Bel idly plucked a falling leaf from outside the cage. It wisped away to pink smoke in his fingers. “With each artéfact I find, Alastair gifts me one memory. The smell of a flower, the curl of someone’s hair.” I flinched when he lifted one of my curls. “The memories are the reason I can’t stay away from the moon window. They’ve made me different from the other staff.”

“How?”

“Every memory I’m gifted brings me one step closer to remembering where I’m from . . . Who I am.”

“But you’re Bel.”

“Right. Named after my title as the esteemed bellhop, my first position before Alastair discovered my affinity for the key.”

“A bellhop?”

“Many here are missing names. I wasn’t the first to lose mine, nor will I be the last.” He drew in a lengthy inhale. “I had friends I trusted with my life, friends I loved, but one by one they were demoted, or they disappeared, or I drove them away myself, like in Hellas’s case. Then there were those whose hearts were hardened by the ma?tre and they no longer spoke to me because of the position I held.”

“I didn’t realize—”

“How would you? The memories Alastair has given back to me . . . There’s nothing I’ll do to risk him taking them away,” he said with conviction.

Then I understood. Bel was the Magnifique; he wasn’t replaceable like the other suminaires. Alastair needed another way to manipulate him, and he found it by giving Bel a taste of what he wanted more than anything, by dangling Bel’s memories like goddamned carrots.

My eyes filled with tears. “Bel—”

“I’m sorry you didn’t learn sooner that caring about anyone here only causes pain.”

I straightened.

His words struck me with such force that they left me reeling. This was what he thought. Why he kept to himself. It was probably why he couldn’t understand Hellas’s devotion to his sister long ago. And why he tried to have me sent home without Zosa.

Then there were so many times I caught him looking at me then tearing his eyes away. So many instances where he shifted conversations away from anything deeper than lighthearted banter. All because he’d been hurt and was afraid of being hurt again.

The cage had opened on six. I only noticed when Bel stormed off.

“Wait!”

More leaves drifted from the ceilings, splashing the carpet with pools of colored smoke. They tickled my ankles as I raced to keep up. When Bel reached his room, I rushed around and flung myself against his door.

“You’re wrong,” I blurted. “In Alastair’s office, I learned a suminaire’s artéfact is determined by their soul’s desire. Bel, I’ve seen your atlases. I remember the expression on your face when you moved the hotel that first night. And this—” I ran a nail along the chain that held his key. “The first time you saw le monde entier scratched into the front door’s black lacquer, it called out to you like it did to me, didn’t it?”

“Jani—” he started to protest.

“At first, I thought you were so arrogant, so awful,” I said, cutting him off. “But you’re good. You’re only afraid of getting too close to people because you think it’ll distract you from your goal of getting home. But if we void the contracts, you can have everything you want. Please, Bel, take me to Champilliers.”

“I don’t want everything,” he said, resolute, then pushed his door open, brushing past me.

But before he could get far, I took hold of his hand. “Your memories can’t be the only thing you want. There has to be something else.”

Just like in that doorless room, his eyes settled on my lips. “I think you should leave,” he said, his voice a little rough.