“I didn’t realize we were spending it together.”
Alex looks up, and a crooked smile spreads across his face. “Would you rather have Frederick escort you?”
“No.” I pause. “I’d rather—”
“Have me?”
I narrow my eyes at Alex’s flirting, more affected by it than I am with others.
He responds with a knowing smile. “Enjoy your coffee, and then we’ll go.”
* * *
The next fewdays feel surreal.
After our morning at the café, Alexander took me on a tour of the city, telling me about the history of Davon, and then I watched my first audition. Whatever plagued him during our first meeting seems to have been forgotten.
Frederick joins us in the theater occasionally, and today, his father is here as well.
Alex is tight-lipped about his family, but I’ve gathered a few things while in his company. Bertram Devereaux, Alex’s father and the founder of The Gryphon Lane Theater, passed away several years ago, leaving the theater and hotel to his only son. Frederick’s father, Lord Earnest Cavinder, was Mr. Devereaux’s good friend and the theater’s first investor.
Lord Cavinder has a kind way about him. He’s the sort of man who immediately feels familiar, like you’ve known him for years. It also seems he’s decided to take Alex under his wing—whether Alex likes it or not.
I watch as the woman on the stage finishes her audition, keeping my opinion to myself as Lord Cavinder murmurs his assessment to Alexander. Phillip, Lord Cavinder’s right-hand man, stands behind us, saying nothing.
Alexander shakes his head, disagreeing with whatever Frederick’s father says. The pinched look on Lord Cavinder’s face tells me he’s not impressed with Alexander’s style of direction. But when the man catches me watching, his expression immediately eases. He gives me a friendly smile and then turns his attention toward the stage once more.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Sabine?” Frederick asks when the woman leaves the stage. I had assumed things would be awkward between us, but he’s taken the situation in stride.
“I am.”
“Do you sing?”
“I haven’t in a long time.” My eyes move to Alexander, hoping he isn’t listening to our conversation.
But the director’s hand twitches, and his eyes dart our way, betraying he is.
“I’d very much like to hear you,” Frederick says with a smile, not realizing my attention has wandered to his friend. “Why don’t you try it, just for a lark?”
“You want me to audition for the show?” I ask, startled.
“Frederick,” Alexander says sharply. “Don’t pester Sabine.”
“I’m not pestering her.” Frederick grins, and then he jerks his head toward the stage. “Go on. I don’t think there are any more auditions this afternoon, are there, Alex?”
“Lucile was the last,” Alex answers reluctantly. “But Sabine doesn’t know Favoran.”
He doesn’t realize I studied it after we met, desperate to learn the language of his world.
“I know a little,” I argue, my eyes meeting his.
Though it’s ridiculous, I want to impress him—want him to realize that I’m not an uncultured princess of Faerie, trapped in an era long past.
Alex frowns slightly. “Do you now?”
With my eyes still locked on his, I say to Frederick, “I suppose I’ll give it a try.”
Looking between us, Frederick clears his throat. “Er, splendid. I’m eager to hear you sing.”