The Whispering Night (Luminaries #3)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Some Luminaries like to call the Saturday estate the Versailles of Hemlock Falls. Typically, those people are Saturdays.

That said, if you shrank Versailles down to about a quarter of its size, took out all the mirrors, made it a little less classical and a little more Art Deco, then you would indeed end up with the Saturday estate.

As for the grounds, they really could give Louis XIV a run for his money. Even at this time of year, when spring hasn’t quite clawed free from winter’s shadow, the hedges and fountains and wooded trails sparkle. The sunshine, meanwhile, has strayed from aggressive toward downright bullying. It burns across the splendor of the grounds while the SUV crackles over the cobblestone driveway.

Because of course the Saturdays have cobblestones.

Winnie hasn’t yet seen herself in the white suit, but she doesn’t need a full-length view to know it will make a banshee weep. Someone like Fatima would have no problem pulling off the wide, billowy trousers and long blazer, but on Winnie, it looks dumpy. Worse, it sets off how much the sunshine has not bullied her since last summer. Frankly, her sweatpants and Pokémon shirt looked better.

It doesn’t help that Winnie put on lipstick using only the rearview as a guide, and judging by Darian’s wince, she didn’t do a great job. Or maybe she just picked a bad color. How is she supposed to know if Flighty Andrew has a match. Spin, spin, spin. “I know you hate the names everyone calls you. I know you hate all the attention, but the Italians are really obsessed with you. They want to meet you. And I’m pretty sure if you hadn’t won the Midnight Crown, Marcia would have fixed it so you did.”

Something about those words give Winnie pause. Then make her rear back. “Wait—she did fix it, Darian! Why else would Fatima have had orders to buy me clothes before the votes were counted? Oh my god, please, don’t make me do this! It’s a rigged vote, and people are going to kill me. Not only did I probably not actually win, but now the rest of the Nightmare Court has been eliminated.”

Darian gulps so hard, his Adam’s apple almost punches his chin. “I… hadn’t put that math together, but you’re right. And I really don’t know what to say. Dryden and Marcia felt it would be easier without a full Court—”

“Easier for whom ?”

“—and allow us to really show off your recent accomplishments.”

“Since when is getting bitten by a werewolf an ‘accomplishment’?”

“I think it’s more the surviving a werewolf bite part.” Darian scrubs at his hair.

“No.” Winnie shakes her head. “No.” She tries to remove the blazer. “I literally cannot do this because I literally did not win the Midnight Crown.”

“Please, Winnie.” Darian grabs her hands. He looks sick. Like, legit vomit-on-Winnie’s-new-clothes sick. “I tried to tell them this was a bad plan. I really did. But they don’t listen to me. I’m just that guy Marcia keeps calling David even though I know she remembers my real name.”

Somehow, Darian looks even more sick. His skin is turning Wednesday green. “Please, please don’t take off that blazer. They said you don’t have to wear the crown if you don’t want to.”

“That doesn’t make this better.”

“Okay, then think of Mom.”

Now Winnie pauses, her left arm halfway out of the blazer sleeve. “What does Mom have to do with anything?”

“They… Marcia, I mean, and Dryden too—they say they’ll let Mom back onto the hunt ASAP if you do this. No more waiting, no more crappy office at the Wednesday estate—have you seen her office?”

“Not yet,” Winnie mumbles.

“It’s the smallest one on the networker floor. So small, I think it’s probably an old supply closet. But Mom can be one hundred percent Luminary again. You—and me too… We just have to cooperate without complaint for the whole Masquerade.”

“But we were made ‘one hundred percent Luminary’ over a week ago. Remember the big clan dinner? The one where Leila literally said the Council voted to let us back in?”

“I know, I know.” Darian starts spinning the ring again. “They keep moving the goal posts. But if Mom can get back on the hunt, it’s not like they can take her off it again.”

Don’t be so sure, Winnie thinks.

“This is only for one week,” Darian says. “Well, technically eight days. But after the Nightmare Ball, you’ll be done. And Mom will be back on the hunt as if the last four years never happened.”

Winnie lets her arm slump back into the sleeve—because let’s be real: she already knows how this scene will end. It doesn’t matter that she has done so much for her family over the past month. It doesn’t matter that adding in a Midnight Crown just feels like an unnecessarily cruel cherry to plop on top of everything. In the end, Winnie is a Wednesday bear. She is loyalty through and through.

So she swallows. Clears her throat. Then tugs her blazer fully back into place. “This isn’t fair, Darian, and I’m not happy about it.”

The relief on her brother’s face is startling. His skin blends from green back toward olive. “Thank you, Winnie. Oh my god, thank you. And trust me: I’ll do everything I can to make this painless for you.”