by Lish McBride
Freddie turned them to follow the edge of the lake before they strolled onto the short wooden pier that people used to launch small dinghies and canoes. “Of course. Not that I’m surprised. We’ll make a lovely match. I can send someone around with the contracts when you’re ready.”
Merit stopped, halting their progression and letting go of his arm. “Contracts?”
Freddie’s free hand flicked at the air. “Naturally. Why wait until your birthday, I say? Let’s get this hemmed up.” He grasped the edge of her veil and fluttered it. “Get you out of this business.”
Merit stifled a sigh. How very like Freddie to assume that he wouldn’t have to work for his bride. “I haven’t decided yet. You’re on a list—a short list, of course.” She was careful to add the last bit. Despite their power and privilege, Merit had learned that the egos of the men in her class tended to be as fragile as soap bubbles.
Tevin reappeared, shoving Freddie’s glass into his hands but keeping Merit’s. “Give me the parasol, so you don’t have to juggle.”
Freddie’s brow scrunched in irritation. “This is a private conversation.”
“Is it?” Tevin traded his glass for Merit’s parasol with a smile.
“Merit, who is this forward creature?” Freddie huffed.
“Freddie, may I introduce you to Tevin? He’s a guest and business contact of my mother’s. I’m showing him around.” Merit moved her veil so she could sip the tepid lemonade. It was far too sour, but she didn’t care. The delicate glass curved at the lip, making it easy to pour into her mouth.
“Business, eh?” Freddie was already losing interest, though he did look closer at Tevin. “Not on the list, then.”
The grin Tevin gave him would have looked at home on a shark. “Not yet.”
“Not likely.” Freddie’s smirk was a stamp of aristocratic smugness.
Overly hot and already irritated, Merit didn’t have the patience to deal with their posturing. She had turned to go down the pier when someone hailed her.
“Merit!” Cedric Fedorova waved one hand at her, the other taken up with a thin silver chain that led to a large peacock. Cedric’s suit was a deep charcoal, his waistcoat an iridescent blue to match the strutting bird. Multiple watch chains led into a single pocket, catching the light, along with the golden rings he wore on several fingers. His hat held a few of the peacock’s tail feathers, which he doffed over her hand. “So lovely to see you, my angel.”
One thing Merit liked about Cedric was that though he was ridiculous, he was always trying new things. He often tried too hard, but at least he tried. She thought that if he could just figure out who he was as a person, he would be a joy to be around. As it was, she was trying not to giggle as he bowed deeply while the peacock made a sort of wha sound, like it was asking a question but was already alarmed about the answer.
“Cedric, it’s lovely to see you. I should warn you, though, that birds don’t seem to like me in my cursed state. The beast upsets them.”
Cedric righted himself, placing the hat back on his head. “Nonsense, milady. He needs a moment, is all, then he will see past the façade to the elegant beauty beneath.” His voice, much like the young man himself, had a theatrical quality to it. There was a sweetness to Cedric, an almost wholesome demeanor that showed when he smiled. He wasn’t tall—only an inch above Merit herself—and appeared gently rounded when compared with Freddie’s whippet-like leanness. Merit tried, for a moment, to picture herself with either of them. A union with Freddie would be appealing for its very separateness. She couldn’t see him taking much interest in her daily life. He also seemed likely to cede most decision making to her, letting her run her barony as she saw fit. Cedric, however, would make a kind and attentive companion. He would also run up an impressive clothing bill, and most likely outshine her at any formal event. Cedric was a man who truly loved clothes.
The peacock honked, startling her. She leapt back, knocking into Tevin and losing control over her cup.
“Cedric,” Freddie drawled. “Nice bird. Are we roasting him later, or is he decorative?”
Cedric began to respond, his tone argumentative, but Merit didn’t pay attention to what he said. She was too busy trying to get away from the peacock, which had gone on the offensive.
Tevin grabbed her arms. “Wait a second, your skirt—”
But he didn’t get to finish the statement. The peacock hissed and lunged at her, causing Merit to dart back. Tevin, hampered by Merit’s skirts, hadn’t moved back fast enough. Each of them tripped over the other, falling in a tangle of limbs into the cool waters of the lake.
The water was murky, their fall stirring up the thick layer of silt on the bottom. Merit was tempted to stay under. It was peaceful here. But a hand reached down, grabbed her arm, and pulled her up.
Tevin stood next to her, the water lapping at his waist. He pushed the sopping hair off his forehead before shaking the fabric of his suit, which clung to the lines of his body. Merit spluttered next to him, throwing up her veil. She roared at the peacock, startling the bird into flight before it was yanked back by its silver tether. Merit shook then, trying to get the excess water out of her fur. When she stopped, the first thing she noticed was how quiet it had become. The music had stopped, and everyone—every single person—was staring at the beast. She wanted to shrivel up and crawl back into the lake water.
Tevin threw back his head and laughed.
“Have you lost your mind?” she hissed.
Tevin bent down, rescuing her bedraggled parasol from the water and giving it a shake. “Go with it.” His words were quiet and for her ear alone. Then he tipped back, parasol and all, and fell into the water.
She followed suit, collapsing back into the lake and swimming next to him. If she had to be a spectacle, she could at least control what kind of spectacle she’d be.
CHAPTER 11
DANCE, MONKEY, DANCE
Tevin stepped into the formal dining room, taking a moment to appreciate the room under the warm and steady glow of the mage light cast from the chandeliers. The walls were painted a cream color, setting off several large oil paintings and an ornate mirror. The pristine white of the tablecloth was interrupted only by the china settings, a simple but elegant silver design. Even though the dinner would just be him, Amaury, Val, Merit, Kaiya, and Ellery, it was set up to be every bit like one of the formal dinners they would encounter.
Merit was already seated, so Tevin bowed over her hand and took the seat across from her. Val, Tevin noticed, took the seat across from Kaiya, smiling at her. Kaiya smiled back before turning to speak to Ellery. Amaury coughed a laugh, quickly smothering it. Val scowled before elbowing Amaury in retaliation.
“You look lovely tonight,” Tevin said, unfolding his own napkin. After their impromptu swim, they’d both had several hours to dry, rest, and dress for dinner. Merit had taken care with her appearance, wearing a fine gown. Someone had put a delicate diamond tiara on her head. The effect was ludicrous.
“You’re lying through your teeth,” Merit said, placing her napkin on her lap.
“I am.”
She paused with the water glass halfway to her lips.
Tevin waited for the staff to fill his glass. “What gave me away?”
Merit put her water down. “Tevin, I’m wearing a tiara between my horns. This dress had to be designed to make room for my tail. Of course I don’t look lovely. I’m cursed, not stupid.”
“Fair enough, but you won’t always be in beast form. You need to watch the faces of your suitors when they say flattering nonsense to decide if they mean it or not.”
“As if these events weren’t exhausting enough,” Merit mumbled.
Once everyone was seated, the first course was served. Tevin dipped his spoon into the soup and carefully tasted it.
Merit watched him with amusement. “Does it meet with your approval?”
He reached for a roll, a warm brown bread, and broke it in half. “I’m keeping all opinions to myself until after the meal, thank you.” He had to ask Val twice to pass the butter dish. Kaiya was finally talking to her, and Val was ignoring everyone but her and almost dropped the butter dish into his lap. He caught it at the last minute, putting it on the table before grabbing his knife and buttering his roll. “When we’re out next, will you be dining in this form or your other one?”
“My mother will want me to take my tincture, which of course makes me want to do the opposite.” Merit glared at her soup. “Which would you suggest?”
Tevin bit into his roll, the slightly sweet bread contrasting beautifully with the salt and fat of the butter. The baker, at least, knew what they were doing. “Which way are you more comfortable?”
Merit carefully angled the spoon, attempting to get it into her mouth without spilling. It wasn’t easy. She had the teeth of a predator, but she was trying to eat like a human. Next time he’d have to think of a gentle way to recommend that she skip the soup course.
“Changing is uncomfortable.” She attempted another spoonful.
“And?”
Soup dribbled down Merit’s chin, and she dabbed at it with her napkin. “You’ve heard Ellery’s speech. I can’t take it all the time.”
“We’ll have to decide by event, weigh the risks.” Tevin sipped his wine, watching her struggle to eat. “Your curse must make everything so difficult.”
“It’s a curse, Tevin. That’s kind of the point.” Merit tried to sip her own wine, which had been served in a metal goblet. After this afternoon, she didn’t trust herself with glass. Even so, she had to be careful drinking with a face not made for traditional dining ware. “Frogs and snakes fall from my friend Wilhelmina’s lips when she speaks. Some of them are poisonous. Her sister, Diadora—the fairy godling liked her, so she gifted her with flowers and gems when she talks.”
Tevin put down his glass. “That . . . I was going to say that doesn’t sound bad, but I take it back. That sounds uncomfortable.”
“She’s allergic to pollen, so she sneezes all the time. She’s chipped several teeth on precious stones and has almost given up on marriage entirely.”
“That sounds awful, but it doesn’t negate your own struggles. You can’t trust your suitors, either, and you gave the harpist the vapors. I nearly screamed and embarrassed myself when you first walked in as a beast.” The staff whisked the soup away and moved on to the next course, some sort of lightly breaded fish. They ate quietly for a few minutes, both apparently lost in thought.
“You didn’t seem to be in danger of screaming.” She pushed a piece of fish with her fork. “In fact, my curse doesn’t seem to bother your family at all.”
Tevin took a good look at her. It wasn’t like she wasn’t terrifying in appearance, and yet he didn’t feel scared. Snarling jaws and horns aside, it was Merit who looked out at him, even now. He paused, dangling his fork over his plate. “I once courted a girl who had this tiny lapdog called Muggins. Well. I assume it was a dog. It had long, frizzy fur, bulging eyes, and an overbite, but it was vaguely dog shaped. Completely hideous. The girl doted on it, so every minute I spent with her, I spent with the dog. She used to dress it to match her.”
“The dog had its own wardrobe?”
He nodded. “The maid had to dress the dog’s hair as well as the girl’s. Total nightmare.”
“Muggins drove you away, in the end?” Mirth lit her orange eyes.
Tevin shook his head slowly. “The dog grew on me. It was her I couldn’t stand.” He went back to his food. “Besides, at that point, my parents had their money, so I was ushered on to the next debutante.”
Merit stiffened, bristling at the reminder that Tevin was so much like the boy who had hurt her. She set the thought aside, returning to the original discussion. “Am I Muggins in this scenario, or the girl?”
“Oh, you’re a Muggins. You haven’t changed, but as one spends more time around you, you’re less . . . overwhelming.”
“Thank you, I think.”
“You’re welcome.” Tevin signaled the steward for another glass of wine. He felt a stab of annoyance at Lady Zarla and the fairy godling who’d cursed Merit. She would end up in, at best, a tepid and loveless union. She deserved better.
The next dish was seared bison and roasted vegetables. The meat was lightly seasoned, letting the natural flavors come through. Merit had a hard time with the vegetables. She was forced to use a large spoon to scoop them up and shovel them in.
“Efficient,” he said, watching her chew. “But lacking a certain elegance.”
“If I didn’t do something,” Merit said, taking another spoonful of vegetables, “I’d starve. Would you rather the beast look foolish or eat the guests?”
Tevin fought a smile. “Is the guest in the situation Freddie? Because I wouldn’t mind if you chewed on him a little.” Merit snorted and shoved the spoon into her jaws. It was becoming increasingly clear to him why she preferred the country and avoided society. A chunk of carrot fell from her spoon, causing Merit to growl, the spoon bending in her fist.
Frustrated, she dropped the spoon and reached to pick up another when Tevin stopped her. He snatched it from her place setting and tossed it over his shoulder. Then he undid his cuff links, slipped them into his pocket, and carefully rolled up his sleeves. Without a word, he picked up some bison with his fingers and popped it into his mouth. He raised his eyebrows at Merit as he chewed. Hesitantly, she picked up a piece of meat from her plate, stacked some of the vegetables on it, and carefully placed the food on her tongue.
Tevin smiled and went back to his entree. “We won’t be able to do this when we go out, but you need to eat, Merit. Take a break and finish your meal, then we can move on to the nightmare that is formal dance.”
Merit skipped the silverware, attacking her food with her claws. “I used to love dancing.”
Tevin nodded. “Have you danced since the curse?”
Merit shook her head. “Not a formal dance. Snuck off to the nearest town for a barn dance or two. Never as the beast.”
Tevin gave her a sympathetic smile and waved one of the staff over. “Have another glass of wine. You’re going to need it.”
* * *
• • •
Even before the curse, Merit had never been a tall, willowy beauty like her mother. She’d been light on her feet, however, and truly enjoyed dancing, so she’d practiced until she glided through each step. What hadn’t come naturally came from hours of work. It had been years since she’d danced formally—they had a few informal dances at Cravan House for friends and family, though that usually involved a country reel and jigs and nothing at all where anyone had to look stately. She also usually took her tincture before the dance. Attempting to waltz in beast form was going to make her feel like her bumbling twelve-year-old self, tripping over her own feet.
Tevin cued the musicians, watching as Ellery took Merit into their arms. Val and Amaury were on the floor as well, since Merit didn’t particularly feel like being the center of attention for this, even if Tevin was watching only her. Kaiya sat at the piano, ready to play when Tevin signaled. He adjusted Ellery’s hold, stepping back to look at them again, one hand cupping his chin, thumb pressed into his lower lip. Merit had started to have a lot of indecent thoughts about that lower lip. Earlier at dinner, when he’d rolled up his sleeves, putting her at ease so she could feed herself, a genuine smile on his face? Beasts don’t swoon, but blast it all if she hadn’t wanted to.
Ellery squeezed her waist. “Relax, Merit. I’m not a pincushion.”
Merit apologized and relinquished her death hold on Ellery.
Tevin waved a hand and stepped back, watching Ellery and Merit as they moved to the music. They took one turn around the room before Merit glanced at Tevin to gauge how they were doing.
“That can’t be good,” Ellery murmured.
Tevin didn’t halt the music, but he strode across the floor, avoiding Val and Amaury as they glided by, and stopped at their side. “You said you could waltz.” He directed this to Ellery.
“I can,” her friend said defensively. “I took lessons.”
Tevin rubbed his forehead. “Demand a refund.”
Ellery cocked their head. “Surely I’m not that terrible.”
“You are at leading. Have Amaury pair with you in the next set. He’s patient and an excellent dancer.” He waved Ellery away, taking their spot. He pulled Merit close, his hand hot on her hip. “Lift your frame. You’re slouching.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, the other in his grip. He slid his free hand from her hip to her shoulder blade. Ellery had held her the same way, but it felt completely different. She sucked in a breath, which was a mistake. Tevin smelled like a heady mix of spiced soap and his own underlying scent, and she wanted to lean in and sniff him like the beast she was, and for a split second she couldn’t remember why that could be considered off-putting.
“Remember, it’s all about the upper frame. Lift, separate, and trust that I’ll take you where we need to go. Okay?” He waited as Kaiya paused and restarted the tune she’d been playing. “Let’s try again.” He looked down at her, and his expression gentled. “Relax, Merit.” He leaned in closer. “Believe it or not, this is supposed to be fun.”
“Right.” She could do this. “Fun. I remember fun.” She straightened her spine and followed his lead as he twirled them along the floor. She watched Amaury and Val spin past, trying to ignore the warm grip of Tevin’s hand on her back. When she looked up again, Tevin had a funny expression on his face.
“What?” she asked.
“You don’t want to dance with me.”
She didn’t. Tevin, though not a beast, was scary in his own right. Not scary, but dangerous. Which she absolutely couldn’t tell him. “I want to dance with you.”
