The innkeeper hesitated. Scarlett swore she recognized the name.
“I’m sorry, dearies, I can’t tell you who else is staying here.”
“But it’s my sister.”
“I still can’t help.” The woman divided a slightly panicked look between Julian and Scarlett. “Rules of the game. If she’s here, you’ll have to find her on your own.”
“Can’t you—”
Julian’s hand pressed against Scarlett’s back, then his lips were at her ear again. “She’s already done us one favor tonight,” he warned.
“But—” Scarlett started to argue, yet Julian’s expression stopped her. Something in it went beyond caution and looked much closer to fear.
Dark hair fell over his eyes as he leaned near to her once more and whispered, “I know you want to find your sister, but on this isle secrets are valuable. Be careful about giving yours away too freely. If people know what you want the most, it can be used against you.
“Come on.” He started toward the stairs.
Scarlett knew it was dawn, but the crooked halls of La Serpiente smelled like the end of the night, sweat and fading fire smoke mixed with lingering breath from words whose ghosts still haunted the air. The doors didn’t seem to be in any particular order. Room two was on the second floor, while room one was on floor three. Room five’s teal door came after eleven’s raspberry entry.
The halls of the fourth floor were all covered in velvet paper striped with thick lines of black and cream. Scarlett and Julian finally found their rooms, in the middle of the hall. Neighbors to each other.
Scarlett hesitated in front of the rounded door to room eight, while Julian waited for her to go inside.
It felt as if they’d spent more than just one day together. The sailor had not been a horrible companion. Scarlett knew she might not have made it this far without his help.
“I was thinking,” she started, “tomorrow—”
“If I see your sister, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.” Julian’s tone was polite, but it was clearly a dismissal.
So that was it.
She shouldn’t have been surprised or upset that this was the end of their partnership. Julian had claimed he would help her out, but she’d learned enough of him to know that if he wanted something, he said whatever needed to be said to get it. She didn’t know when she started expecting more. Or why.
She recalled what he’d told her in the clock shop, about how she thought too highly of him if she believed he cared for her sister. He used people. His use of her had been mutually beneficial, but he’d used her all the same. She remembered her first impression of him, tall, roughly handsome, and dangerous, like poison dressed up in an attractive bottle.
It was better for her to stay away from him. Safer. He might have helped her today, but she couldn’t drop her guard; he was clearly here for his own purposes. And after she found her sister the next night, she wouldn’t be alone, or staying much longer.
“Good-bye,” Scarlett said as curtly as he’d spoken to her, and without another word she swept into her room.
A fire was already lit in the hearth, warm and glowing, throwing shades of copper against walls covered in flowered wallpaper—roses, white with ruby tips, in various states of bloom. The wood crackled as it burned, a soft lullaby that pulled her toward a massive canopy bed, the most enormous one Scarlett had ever seen. It must have been why the room was considered special. Sheltered by gauzy drapes of white that hung from carved wooden posts, the bed was covered in silk pillows made of fluff and thickly quilted blankets, tied with rich currant-red bows. She couldn’t wait to fall on the bed’s downy mattress and—
The wall moved.
Scarlett froze. The room grew suddenly hotter and smaller.
For a moment she hoped it was a trick of her imagination.
“No,” she said, watching as Julian strode through a narrow door, next to the wardrobe, which until that moment had been camouflaged by the room’s papered wall.
“How did you get in here?” she asked. Though even before he answered, Scarlett knew exactly what had happened.
The wink. The keys. The special arrangements. “She gave us the same room on purpose!”
“You did a very good job convincing her we’re in love.” Julian’s eyes cut to the lavish bed.
Scarlett’s cheeks blazed with red, the color of hearts and blood and shame. “I didn’t say we were in love—I only said we’re engaged.”
Julian laughed but Scarlett was aghast. “This isn’t funny. We can’t sleep in here together. If anyone finds out, I’ll be utterly ruined.”
“There you go being dramatic again. You think everything is going to destroy your life.”
But if anyone found out, it would destroy her engagement to the count. “You met my father. If he ever discovered I—”
“No one will find out. I imagine that’s why there are two doors with different numbers.” Julian crossed over to the enormous bed and threw himself on top of it.
“You can’t sleep on that bed,” Scarlett protested.
“Why not? It’s very comfortable.” Julian pulled off his boots, dropping them to the floor with loud thumps. Then he took off his waistcoat and went for the buttons of his shirt.
“What are you doing?” Scarlett said. “You can’t do that.”
“Listen, Crimson.” Julian stopped unbuttoning his shirt. “I told you I won’t touch you, and I promise to keep my word. But I am not sleeping on the floor or on that tiny lounge just because you’re a girl. This bed is big enough for the both of us.”