Prince from the Other Side

Chapter 3: View from the Top

Three hours later, Toby and I were sitting on the roof of Cass and my apartment building, looking over out the London skyline as it blazed with Saturday night life under a pink sky.

This was an after-show tradition we always made time for, when we could. At first, Toby had started coming with me to the rooftop during the evening because of pretty fair concerns for my safety; it must be infuriating to have protective instincts for someone who didn't seem to take her safety very seriously. Sometimes I did genuinely forget about the fragility of my mortal form. And sometimes I just wanted to drink whiskey on the roof and listen to London roil by below me.

So here we were, basking in the warmth of the summer night, with the bottle and a comfortable silence between us. The post-show glow was still thrumming in my veins, all the accumulated energy and magic purring as if with electricity through my body. I'd found that it had a staggering effect on mortals, like a haze of adrenaline or even an aphrodisiac. But Toby—cheerful, solid Toby—seemed delightfully immune. This was one of my favorite things about him: he was very, very hard to enchant. Too down-t0-earth, I guess. But that also meant I knew whatever interaction I had with him was genuine, rather than spiked with magical influence.

I heard the roof access door open heavily some ways off. That was wrong—nobody ever disturbed us up on our rooftop oasis. I looked at Toby in surprise, and he was on his feet in a moment in immediate alarm, despite the generous whiskey we'd both been sharing.

Around one of the shadowy rooftop ducts, I saw a small, spare figure. It took a whiskey-blurred second too long to recognize the sharp haircut.

“Cass!" I cried, in genuine alarm. “Cass, what are you doing up here? In your pajamas?"

It was true—though Cass's pajamas were more fashionable than a lot of the clothes I wore.

In answer, Cass raised a phone with its screen brightly lit up, showing a list of trending topics. I couldn't read the text from so far away, but as her thumb scrolled, I recognized an image repeating: a cellphone photo of me holding hands with a petrified Birdie in the middle of the sidewalk, leaning down to listen.

“Oh sh*t," Toby echoed plaintively, looking very tempted to duck behind me to shelter from Cass's wrath.

But Cass's face extended into a wide, wide smile. A smile so alarmingly delighted that I wondered if she was going into some kind of panic or something.

“The story broke on CMZ twenty minutes ago," rattled Cass at gunfire speed, soundly nearly manic. “Don't know how they got the details before the police even followed up with me, but that girl's dad was…Well, let's just say he's a real piece of work. You're an angel, Hester. That's what they're saying. Looks like Birdie and her mom are going to hunker down in the hotel room we gave them the money for until they can get protective orders against the dad. But you are ALL OVER the trending topics, Hester. People are going nuts. In the best possible way. The videos are everywhere. You are, apparently, a hashtag-real-one and everyone on the internet knew it all along."

Cass finally broke off for breath, and I felt my shoulders relax. Birdie, safe. Peace and security and happiness. Feeling the wish fulfilled was like feeling a cold breeze kiss the back of my neck: magic, satisfied and balanced.

As it should be.

“You're gonna have to post something in the morning, BUT—and seriously—this isn't even the best part of it," Cass charged on. Toby seemed tempted to hide behind me all over again. “I got a call from Sy—you know, Sy Dage, right? Of course, everyone does—from Sy's people like ten minutes after the article went live."

Instantly my stomach went cold. I should have known: seeing that tattoo tonight couldn't have been a coincidence. There was too much magic in the air.

“What did they want?" I asked, hearing the ice in my voice.

Cass looked taken aback, and I tried to soften my expression. But Sy, the Unseelie. A creature of darkness and chaos and storms. I couldn't imagine what they wanted with me.

“They, get this, they're in London too and they saw the press. And you know what they're in town for? For a Stellar Lounge show. And they want you to team up for it. The trending internet angel and the poetic bad boy."

I heard Toby swear softly behind me, blowing an amazing whistle through his teeth. Stellar Lounge was a highly exclusive secret show series—a showcase for celebrities, influencers, and industry investors. Never more than sixty or so people in an audience, and never a predictable venue: It might be hosted in another artist's townhouse or swank apartment, or a vacant waterfront warehouse, or in the tightly guarded backroom of a club. Stellar was a legendary series. Which explained Cass's wide-eyed excitement. And her surprise at my dismay.

“I can't," I forced out. “Seriously, Cass. I can't."

Cass's face froze. “Okay, Hester. I love you, you know that. But you cannot let this moment go. This is so big for you. For us."

“It's capitalizing on some kid's trauma," I pointed out. “And besides…I can't do a show with Sy Dage." Even the name on my tongue felt sour. “It's personal."

“Hester," her voice became cajoling and soft, the way it always did when she knew I wasn't going to like what she was going to say. “You know it's my job to do what's best for you. I'm going to take care of you through this process, you can trust me. This is going to be so big for you, Hester. Just so much visibility on socials, you have no idea…"

“Cass," I said, understanding. “You already said yes, didn't you?"

Cass had the decency to look embarrassed. “The show's in three days. We didn't have time to deliberate. I didn't know you'd have…this reaction. He is a rock star, Hester. A frickin' rock star."

I sighed, hugging myself and feeling suddenly cold in a way that had nothing to do with the bright summer night. “This is just an extremely bad idea, Cass. Believe me."

“Can you tell me why?" Her voice was careful—the voice of a caretaker, rather than a colleague. I knew she thought I was being ridiculous. I knew she thought my whims were wild, impulsive; once I had diverted an entire tour schedule so I could go to tea with a Seelie fae, living as a celebrated author, before she transitioned back to Faerie. And of course I couldn't tell Cass why it was so important. I told a bare lie that the author had known my parents once. Which was true, but not in the way that Cass would assume.

“No," I said, knowing how it would land. Sure enough I saw Cass's face stiffen.

“I'm sorry, Hester, but I have to do what's best for you. For your career. You know that."

“I know." I had to find a way out of this. Even if it wasn't through Cass. “I know."

But this show wasn't going to happen. Whatever Cass thought. I wouldn't go within a mile of Sy Dage if I could help it.