Page 12 of Avalon Tower
He flips through the passport, then hands it back to me. “Have a pleasant day,” he says, sounding bored.
“Mer-si boo-koo.” I start walking toward the docks.
“Mademoiselle, the restaurants are the other way.”
“Oh, yes, thank you. I just want to take a photo of the pretty French boats.” I smile at him and turn away.
When I’m sure he’s no longer looking, I break into a little run, my boots creaking over the wood.
It takes me a few minutes to locate Aleina and the rest of the group, who are standing by a large clipper ship. Aleina is talking to a man on the deck—another demi-Fey. His pointed ears rise out of wavy, dark hair that falls to his sharp jawline. The sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up, exposing tattoos that snake around his muscled forearms. As I take a step closer, my heart skips a beat. The moment he cuts me a sharp look, I recognize those eerie silver eyes, the straight black eyebrows. And yet, he seems a million times bigger, towering over everyone else, shoulders as broad as a door frame.
So that’s what happened to Raphael Launcelot, the beautiful demi-Fey who broke my heart.
CHAPTER 4
Istare at him, mouth ajar. I spent so long trying to forget about him and that night in Bordeaux, when the stars shone so brightly and the air smelled heavy with ripening grapes, and now Raphael is standing before me, looking like a damn demigod.
We met at a château during our summer trip. And after we kissed, he never spoke to me again. I also remember hearing him call me trash after Mom fell down the stairs drunk one night.
He is, in fact, a million times better looking than Jules the waiter, which is endlessly frustrating. You can tell by his bearing that he knows how beautiful he is, too. Sun-kissed skin, muscular physique, the piercing silver eyes…
I loathe the man.
From the top of the gangplank, he glances at me for a fraction of a moment, but if he recognizes me, he doesn’t let it show. A woman in a blue dress stands by the main mast, demanding the names of every fugitive. She has peaches-and-cream skin and wears her wavy blonde hair in a messy bun. Her large diamond earrings gleam in the setting sun. She looks delicate in every way except for the sheathed sword slung around her waist.
My gaze trails over the deck, which is fully stocked with an arsenal of spears and harpoons. An old-fashioned fishing ship, maybe? Here, the smell of the sea mingles with the woodsy scent of the ship and a hint of tar. Crew members dressed in blue jackets are climbing up the rigging to unfurl the sails.
There’s another woman on the deck, too, this one unarmed. She wears a flowing yellow gown and a dreamy expression.
As I step closer, I can hear Raphael arguing with Aleina in Fey. “I don’t understand,” he tells Aleina in a clipped voice. “Where’s our contact?”
“I told you, he never showed up,” Aleina answers impatiently.
A muscle clenches in Raphael’s jaw. “What happened to him?”
“I have no idea. We had to get here by ourselves.”
“How did you even make it this far?”
“We had help,” Aleina said, gesturing at me. “From a tourist.”
From high above, Raphael shoots me a cautious look. His otherworldly eyes narrow as he takes me in, but I don’t see any flicker of recognition. “You told this woman about us?” He injects the words this woman with an impressive amount of disdain, suggesting he might remember me after all. He isn’t calling me “trash” out loud, but it’s certainly implied.
“We didn’t have much choice.” Aleina casts a worried look back toward the policemen at the entrance to the port. “I can explain it all later. We need to get underway.”
The blonde woman saunters forward and touches his bicep. “We’re not going with this group. The names don’t match our list.”
“None of them, Viviane?” he asks.
I stare at them. Are they out of their minds?
“Some of them,” Viviane clarifies. “There are three missing who were supposed to be here, and three more who are not supposed to be here.” She points at the little boy. “Him, and those two ginger ladies.”
A woman with the same shade of fiery hair wraps her arms around them. “They’re my daughters. I’m not leaving them in either of the Fey controlled territories. Of course I’m not.”
“We told you,” Viviane snaps. “Only people who were approved. We were very clear. You’re here because of the information you possess. They’re of no use to us.”
Aleina holds the boy’s head as he cries against her leg. His tears left streaks on her pale gold dress. “His parents were killed on the way here. He’s only four. Do you have children? What kind of person leaves a four-year-old behind?”