LA RÊVERIE WAS LOUDand warm and crowded as Emeline’s leg bounced nervously beneath the table. The members of The Perennials bent their heads close together, making quiet conversation. They were a few years older than her, and since walking in and saying hi, not one band member had attempted to include her in their conversation—despite her several attempts to join.
They had all just flown in from different parts of the country, she told herself. They were obviously a tight-knit group and needed to catch up. Emeline couldn’t begrudge them that.
Still. She felt like a third wheel.
Joel wasn’t helping. He’d given her the cold shoulder since she arrived—not that she could blame him, seeing as she left him high and dry yesterday. He was currently outside taking a call.
Emeline fidgeted with the ring on her finger, spinning it around and around before remembering who gave it to her.
Hawthorne.
Her hand tightened around her drink, then fell loose. Shewasn’t going to think about the king’s tithe collector, or anything else in the woods. Hawthorne was a thief. The woods were cursed. And everything in them wanted her dead.
Thiswas where she belonged.
Tomorrow night, she would get up onstage and open for her dream band. It was the culmination of all her hard work. And if she was on her game, Daybreak would sign her. They’d produce her next album. She would have everything she ever wanted before she even turned twenty.
Her biggest, oldest dream was coming true.
“You ready for tomorrow?”
Emeline glanced up to find Edwin McCormick, drummer for The Perennials,watching her. Colorful sleeve tattoos decorated his pale arms and his dark hair was slick, as if he hadn’t washed it yet this week.
She smiled. “Of course. I can’t wait!” She immediately winced at the sound of her voice—it was too bright and fake. To hide her embarrassment, Emeline took a sip of her root beer. The carbonation fizzed on her tongue.
“Ever played a fourteen-city tour before?”
Edwin’s arm was slung casually around the neck of the young woman beside him: Ashley Granger, lead singer. Her bleached-blond bangs were cut straight and short across her forehead, and the rest of her hair was pulled up in a bun, showing off a steep undercut.
“This is my first,” said Emeline, her stomach pinching.
“I’m sure you’ll do great,” said Ashley, studying Emeline from beneath Edwin’s arm.
A sudden, cheerful voice interrupted them.
“Emeline Lark!”
The entire table turned to find a curvy blonde with a heart-shaped face and a lipstick-bright smile standing over them. Herdark blue jeans were ripped at the knees and tucked into a pair of cowboy boots.
Chloe Demarche.
Emeline relaxed at the sight of her songwriter, her stomach unpinching.
“I haven’t heard from you inweeks!! Where have youbeen?”
Emeline’s thoughts raced, searching for an answer that didn’t sound completely bonkers. “I was … taking care of my grandfather.”
It was somewhat true.
The light caught in Chloe’s bobbing golden curls as she dropped into Joel’s empty seat, looking genuinely distressed. “Is he okay?”
“Hey, Chlo?” said Ashley, leaning across the table, her index finger pointing to the chair. “That seat is taken.”
“Oh!” Chloe darted to her feet. “Sorry. My friends are over there, anyway.” She waved casually across the room, where a group of people were rounding up chairs and taking over an empty table. Chloe turned her attention back to Emeline. “Did you get a chance to listen to those new songs I uploaded to Elegy?”
Emeline had hundreds of unchecked notifications on her phone, all of which she’d accumulated while in the King’s City. She shook her head. “Not all of them. But I will tonight. I promise.”
“No rush. When you do, let me know what you think.” Chloe’s cheeks dimpled. “Have fun on your tour!” She lifted her hand in a wave, returning to her friends.
