Page 28 of Find My Way Down to You

Flecks of gold flare in his eyes. He unceremoniously releases my wrist. Cool air brushes the strip of skin where his fingers just were and I chase off a shiver.

Turning away, Cary says, “This way.”

I drink in the building’s interior. The main room flows seamlessly like a hotel lobby. Warm amber light pours from a chandelier made up of glass bobble candles. It floats overhead without wires or chain.

The walls are a deep midnight blue. With every step, the designs seem to shift. Filigreed fish swimming in an ocean. Crows with shimmery beating wings. Roses blooming from thorned vines. Stout marble columns line the walkway. Gilded accents are carved into their tops and bases.

Floral notes drift in the air, the fragrance dizzying. Intricate geometric patterns spread across the marble floor. A thick red rug stretches from the entrance to a glass desk in the middle of the room.

Someone sits behind it, clacking at a computer.

As we approach, soft music plays. I can’t tell where it’s coming from. It almost sounds like “Für Elise,” one of the songs I could never get right on the piano, but slower, sadder. My fingers move to the melody as I try to find the notes in my head.

I’ve never seen or heard orexperiencedanything like this. It still feels like a dream. But it’s not.

When we reach the desk, Henri says, cheerfully, “Meli!”

The girl has large eyes. One black, the other pale blue. Her hair is the same way—half pitch black, half a startling white.She’s soft-faced, young. Her cheeks flush under Henri’s gaze.

“Greetings, Lord Henri.”

“Ha! See!” Henri gestures toward her. “LordHenri.”

Cary lets out an exasperated breath. “You bribe her to call you that.”

She winks, an admission.

Henri’s jaw drops. “I don’t bribe. Ibargain. Something you should consider doing.”

“Pointless,” Cary grumbles. “I am not my brother.”

“Oh, I know.”

Henri grins wickedly. Annoyance cuts darkly across Cary’s face. I consider asking who they’re talking about, but Henri doesn’t give me a chance to.

“Shall we go up?”

Just left of the desk is an elevator. Meli’s two-colored eyes find me. I feel like an alien on display before she says, “He is waiting on you.”

Cary strides in the direction of the elevator. I follow, not that I have a choice. The guards are close behind.

Inside, there are no buttons. No panels indicating whether we’re going up or down. Thankfully, the ride is short. I’m still unknotting my stomach as the doors glide open.

Unlike the lobby, this room is wide. Walls of floor-to-ceiling windows illuminate the space from opposite sides. Light reflects off polished ebony floors. Tall vases hold slender-stemmed flowers. Their white petals are the same as the ones from the gates and on the guards.

Near the room’s center is an ivory rug. It runs like spilled sugar toward a raised crimson dais. Sitting on top is a plush black throne embellished in gold.

A throat clears.

My gaze snaps to a boy. He looks a year or two younger than me. Smooth tawny skin, knife-sharp features. Thick eyebrows frame bright eyes. His black hair is cut low and even, but I can see the start of curls at the top.

He walks closer, hands folded behind his back. His tailored charcoal suit fits him well. A garland of bristly green leaves circles his head. Cypress, maybe?

When he stops just short of me, my heart crawls anxiously up my throat.

He’sbeautiful.

The guards give him a small bow.