He shifted against me. “I take it you haven’t seen many places like this?”
“Oh, one or two,” I said, even though I’d been nowhere even remotely comparable. “I bet you’ve been to plenty.”
“I have,” he said. “But once you’ve seen one destination, you’ve seen them all.”
“But that’s not true.”
“Oh?”
“No two places are exactly alike. In the sea south of Verdanne alone there are four chains of islands, each one with its own unique features.”
He lifted a brow. “You like geography?”
I loved geography, but I was hesitant to admit it to him. He seemed more worldly than anyone I’d ever met. “There was a room in my boardinghouse stuffed with old atlases left over from sailors.” My chest warmed at the memories of poring over each wrinkled page.
Sometimes those dusty maps would transport me to when I was younger. Back then, I dreamed of wandering on beaches with names I couldn’t pronounce, lying naked on heated sand with only sunshine covering my skin. I’d wanted to experience the world with every inch of me. But that was before Durc, before I left home.
“What is it?” Bel asked.
“How often does the hotel visit southern Verdanne?”
“Are you thinking about your village again?” This time, his tone wasn’t teasing.
“Why?” I looked up at him and froze.
He studied me with the same serious expression he wore when the orange shattered. He brought a hand up. The edge of his switchblade hilt grazed my chin. “I can already tell you’re much too curious for this place.” His hand dropped. “Here we are,” he said abruptly, then brushed past me, out of the weather closet.
I blinked. The beach was gone.
My hands scrambled to grip the walls for balance. “You could have warned me.”
“What would be the fun of that?” he said with a wry smile, and darted up a nearby stairwell I could have sworn wasn’t there before.
“Hey!” I sprinted to join him, coming to a stop on a landing carpeted with a pattern of sugared nougats and pastel bonbons. Chocolate scented the air.
“The nougats are sticky,” Bel called out.
He was right. Prying my heels from the carpet, I caught up with him in front of an enormous caged lift.
“After you.” He gestured to the open doors. I hesitated. “I thought you wanted answers about your contract.”
I did. I stepped into the cage and onto a floor made of moving clouds. It felt solid enough. A filigreed dial on the wall pointed to cirrus. The other options were cumulus and stratus.
The lift’s attendant didn’t seem bothered by the clouds. He raised his tan hand. “Guests only on the lift tonight.”
“Pleasure to see you too, Zelig. Six, please.” Bel rapped his switchblade on the bars.
Zelig huffed but did as Bel said. The cage stuttered. When it came to a grinding halt on six, I fell against Zelig and then immediately righted myself.
“Seems you’re destined to knock around kings tonight,” Bel said once we were out. He glanced back at Zelig.
“Zelig’s a king?”
“Was. Zelig ruled Isle Parnasse in the Seventh Sea. He’s the reason the guests’ stay only lasts two weeks. Alastair allows certain dignitaries he wishes to impress to pay absurd rates to stay longer, but never more than a month. Nothing like Zelig.”
“How long did he stay?”
“Zelig emptied his coffers to stay for twelve years.”
My eyes shot wide. Twelve years was staggering.
“Eventually, a distant cousin took over the throne and banished the hotel. Alastair wasn’t pleased.”
“But Alastair has the rest of the world. What does one island matter?”
“Trust me, it matters.” He motioned down the hall. “This way.”
The hall opened to a wide landing. The round sixth floor window hung in the center, huge and shining. I pointed to the view beyond it. “What’s that?”
Bel watched me. “What do you see?”
A moon hung over water. But this moon was in a different spot than the one outside the lobby windows. It glowed murky yellow, illuminating hills to the west. Silvery sheets of rain pounded against the cobblestones. The docks gleamed like oil slicks in the distance.
From this angle, I could make out lights inside Tannerie Fréllac, then the dim gas lamps along boulevard Marigny. A small fire flickered on the third floor of Bézier Residence.
I pressed my palm against the window. Cold seared my skin. The glass rattled when a gust of wet wind flung up a sheet of water from the port. I wrenched my hand away. My fingers were wet with condensation, and the cold still stung.