Page 74 of The Starling and the Hatter

I froze for only a second before quickly selecting one, hopeful that he’d move on and not draw any further attention to us.

“Not lucky, I’m afraid,” Robert said, then held his other hand in front of my face, a small flower pinched between his fingers. “A consolation prize.”

“Thank you.” I took the flower, grateful when he immediately moved on.

A few minutes later, the herald stood. My heart jumped into my throat as he announced the first act, which thankfully was not me. I realized I needed to decide on a song and rehearse in my head. The song about the dragon was my most engaging, so that one made the most sense.

The acrobats were called up and I did my best to enjoy their performance, but when I sensed it coming to an end, my back tensed and my knee bounced up and down.

Hatcher wordlessly put a hand on my knee, calming the erratic movement. I was grateful we were seated on the cushions. It made it easy for me to lean into him, using his warmth to calm me.

We clapped when the acrobats ended their performance. The herald stood and called out, “White, the jester magician, will now take the stage.”

Hatcher leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Do you suppose he knows how ridiculous he looks with that watch?”

I smiled and huffed a laugh as Hatcher kept up a running monologue, whispered in my ear during the entirety of Robert’s act. I was so amused that I didn’t have time to tense up before the next act was called.

His efforts to distract me were valiant, but as more acts were called, the odds of my name being next increased and it became more difficult to relax at all.

"My distractions don't seem to be working anymore,” Hatcher commented.

I felt bad that he was trying so hard to put me at ease. “I just want this night to be over. Every time they stand to introduce a new act, I want to throw up. And each time he doesn’t call my name, it’s a relief, but it also just prolongs the torture."

I vaguely registered that he was moving closer, but it wasn't until his lips pressed lightly to the side of my neck that he gained my full attention. The warm sensation of that kiss and the tickle of his breath brushing against my skin made me melt.

He rested his chin on my shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said. “I probably shouldn’t tease you like that. But I'm running out of ideas for how to ease your worry.”

He may have been running out of ideas, but even after he sat back in his chair, I suddenly had plenty. Finding some time by ourselves when we could actually have a full conversation could not happen quickly enough. Was he kissing me solely as a distraction or was it more? I suspected it was more, and I wanted it to be more, especially with the way my body hummed from just the memory of that light kiss to my neck, but the seeds of doubt and uncertainty refused to be ignored—especially after Robert. I had thought I knew how Robert felt. I’d thought he and I were rekindling a childhood infatuation. What better foundation to build on than friendship and second chances? But everything with Robert had existed only on the surface. It was only looking back that I had realized that Robert had never gone deep. Garnet had allowed me to see that. She had spoken about digging down to find myself, and the more I thought on that, the more I realized how important it was in a relationship to dig deep to discover each other. And Robert…had never dug deep for anything. He’d never cared enough to ask me my deeper feelings, or to share his.

I looked over at Hatcher. Hatcher cared. Not just enough to ask, but to keep asking, and to do something about it.

He smiled and bumped my shoulder. “Come, Starling. Act like a fancy lady.” He picked up his goblet and took a slurping sip. "So refreshing,” he intoned in a lower voice than was natural.

I laughed a little, and the words “Oh, I love you," slipped past my lips before I realized I was saying them.

He turned to me, looking stunned and confused. "What did you say?"

I dropped my eyes to my plate. Curse me and my foolish, loose tongue. “Nothing." I took a sip from my goblet to calm my embarrassment and slow my racing heart. “This meal is certainly better than any I've ever tasted. Are you enjoying it?” I babbled.

"No.” He shook his head and moved closer, his eyes intent. “Just repeat what you said. It was too loud to hear clearly, and—”

A horn sounded and we turned to watch the herald announce, "And for our next bit of entertainment, we would like to invite the Starling to our stage."

My heart continued to pound, but this time for different reasons. I didn’t notice how fiercely I was gripping Hatcher’s hand until he squeezed in return. When I looked into his eyes, they were filled with confidence and reassurance. “You are not Elise Wolfe right now. You are the Starling. And that’s all anyone need see.”

I gave one firm nod and stood, sweeping gracefully to the middle of the floor, surrounded by the duke and duchess, the nobility, and the other festival acts, including my own brothers.

I took careful and deliberate breaths, rousing my courage for this moment. Then I sang the song of the Starling and the dragon that almost swallowed her whole.

When I reached the climactic moment, I reached two fingers into my pocket, taking hold of the end of a red and orange scarf. My voice rang out with the final note and then I cut it off abruptly, pulling my hand out and tossing the vibrant, fire-colored scarf into the air above me.

The moment should have been beautiful, dramatic and silent. Instead, something metallic clattered to the ground at my feet, breaking the spell and causing not gasps of awed delight but murmurs of suspicion and curiosity.

I winced. My performance had been going so well. Despite my nerves and the fear that my brothers were more than likely going to recognize me regardless of Hatcher’s clever disguise, I had done well. The audience had been captivated. Having it ruined at the last moment was heartbreaking and infuriating.

I slowly lowered my arms, doing my best to maintain my poise and hopefully salvage the performance. But as I sank into a curtsey, the duchess’s shrill voice rang out.

“That’s my ring!” she cried out, rising to her feet, the bright red of her dress flowing from her shoulders like liquid fire.