Hotel Magnifique(97)

I touched a bright emerald bird—one of the suminaires who still had magic—and it unfurled into an old woman with deep olive skin. She wore a cook’s uniform from a different era. Bel stared at her, awestruck. She flung her arms around his shoulders. “We can all find our homes now,” she said.

His home.

My chest tightened at what that meant.

After the cook left us to find more friends, Bel was curiously quiet. He seemed reluctant to leave my side, but a long line of birds were still waiting their turn. I swallowed down a knot in my throat. “You probably have more people to find. I can take care of the rest without you.”

“Are you sure?” Slowly, he trailed the pad of his thumb up the side of my neck. I closed my eyes and let myself relax into the touch, just for a moment. I didn’t want him to leave me here yet.

But soon he’ll leave for good, for his home, I reminded myself. I forced my fingers to brush his hand away. “We’ll talk later.”

He hesitated for a moment, then he gave me a tight nod that twisted my stomach. “Later, then.”

After Bel left, I changed the last of the workers. Zosa found me when I was finished. I took her hand and led her up the grand staircase. Together, we searched for a place to dry off, to rest, to figure out what came next.





Save for the mangled door, the Ode to a Fabled Forest Suite was immaculate. Two dressing robes hung in the wardrobe, each monogrammed with the letters “H. M.” in shimmering purple thread. Zosa peeled off her dress. She donned the robe and climbed under the thick bedsheets, pulling them up to her chin.

I lifted a pot of tea to pour a cup, but no steam came out. I dipped a finger in the water. Lukewarm. The enchantment that had heated the teapot was written in the ledger. All the enchantments were. All the magic that had made this place so wondrous was gone.

I sank down beside Zosa, relieved to feel her body beside me. “What do you remember?”

I expected her to smile, carefree, like that day in Durc when the hotel came to town. But the corners of her lips turned down and she refused to meet my eyes.

“I don’t want to talk about it now,” she said through a yawn, fiddling with a silk tassel on her pillowcase. She still hid her other hand from me, but I could see it dancing beneath the sheets. “Do you think that doorman could make me something like his wooden finger?”

She didn’t know about Bel’s switchblade. I pictured Zosa with fours knives for fingers and tried my best not to let the idea of it show on my face.

I kissed her damp hair. “I’m sure he could figure something out.”



* * *





We remained in the Ode to a Fabled Forest Suite for a handful of days. Zosa didn’t want to leave and I refused to leave her. Béatrice stopped in often, bringing us food along with information about everything that was happening in the hotel. She shared stories of people who had found each other after decades, and even people who had never met befriending each other. After a little coaxing, she even told me the story of how she wound up here.

Years ago, her father had tried to marry both Margot and Béatrice off separately to the same wealthy neighbor. But since Margot wasn’t interested in marrying and Béatrice wasn’t interested in men, they ran away to Champilliers and took jobs at Atelier Merveille. Margot played piano around town at night, while Béatrice worked on an act hoping to join her sister onstage. The hotel appeared during a holiday they both took up the coast. That was the last time she remembered seeing her sister. She was angry, of course, but beneath it, there was hope baked into all her future plans—a hope I hadn’t heard from her before. She wanted to visit Margot as soon as possible.

In fact, I’d learned that many of the trapped suminaires wanted to look for family members who might still be alive.

Béatrice also told me that she spoke at length to Issig about the explosion in the salon. Apparently his memories had rushed back the second I’d put the necklace on him. I could kiss that necklace. I didn’t want to think about what would have happened if it hadn’t worked.

Issig made sure it was returned to me the day after the explosion. I doubted it would ever again be as useful as it had been over the past few weeks, but that didn’t stop me from promptly clasping it back around my neck.

Truthfully, I liked the weight of it against my skin, how the subtle vibration of magic soothed me. I also appreciated how it served as a reminder of how lucky I’d been. Sometimes I found myself touching the necklace and replaying different outcomes in my mind, and thinking about what was lost.

Despite our best efforts, there were casualties that day. Others had died in the explosion besides Yrsa, but no one I knew well.

The twins were gone. Frigga spotted Sido running out the front door right after the blast, and no one knew what happened to Sazerat.

Bel came into our suite from time to time, but Zosa was always with me, so we never said more than a few stilted words. I didn’t want to know when he would leave for his home, and clearly he wasn’t ready to tell me.

After a week had passed, I convinced Zosa to wear something other than a dressing gown. She hid her damaged hand in strips of bedsheets as I took her into Champilliers.

We dipped inside patisseries, and perfumeries, then Atelier Merveille, where we sat amid piles of lace and ruffles, promptly leaving when a clerk brought in a selection of enormous multicolored wigs.