Page 21 of The Whispering Night
The next thing Winnie knows, she is tugging the suit off the ceiling handle while Darian shoves an assortment of unopened lipstick tubes at her. He looks as if he wants to crawl behind the seat and cower. Or else grovel at Winnie’s feet and beg forgiveness. But since neither is currently an option, he simply claps his hand over his glasses and shifts his entire torso away.
“Wait, you expect me to get dressed now? Here?”
“Obviously.” Marcia starts the engine.
Leila winces. “Yes, Winnie. I’m sorry no one warned you about this. We decided to tally votes earlier in the festival this year, and we only finished at midnight.” It’s very clear from her side-eye toward Marcia exactlywhois to blame for Winnie’s ignorance in the eleven hourssincemidnight.
Like, could no one bother with a phone call?
The SUV starts moving. The brick Sunday estate shrinks behind them. “Once we’re at this breakfast? What’s happening there?”
“You’ll schmooze,” Darian answers from behind his hands.
At the same moment, Marcia declares from the steering wheel: “You will engage with every Luminary who wishes to meet with you, and you will do so with a smile and a thank-you because it is an honor to serve your community and the greater Luminary cause.
“Now hurry up, Winnie. The Saturday estate isn’t far.”
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 ofcoursethe 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 hasnotbullied 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 isshesupposed to know if Flighty & Flirty is better than Sensual Seduction or Pouty Promises?
“I can’t do this,” Winnie hisses at Darian once Marcia has parked them before the enormous, awning-covered front door—where a valet awaitsbecause ofcoursethey freaking do. Marcia and Leila have already exited, striding off to talk to Dryden, who now scuttles like a spidrin their way.
Spidrin: A catchall term for any nightmares resembling arachnids.
His approach gives Winnie a few moments alone in an empty SUV alongside her brother. “Darian, I can’t do this.”
“I know, Win, it’s not fair.” He spins a ring on his middle finger; 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—shedidfix it, Darian! Why else would Fatima have had orders to buy me clothesbeforethe votes were counted? Oh my god, please, don’t make me do this! It’s a rigged vote, and people are going tokillme. 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 forwhom?”
“—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 thesurviving a werewolf bitepart.” 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 Iknowshe remembers my real name.”
Somehow, Darian looks even more sick. His skin is turning Wednesday green. “Please,pleasedon’t take off that blazer. They said you don’t have to wear the crown if you don’t want to.”
