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The hotel ballroom was a beehive. Chatter greeted me at the door, words blurring together till they became one mass of a sound. It slithered into my veins, pumping excitement in my bloodstream till I could hardly stay still long enough to commit the sight to memory.
Today had to be the day. I even wore my lucky pin-stripe suit for it. I smoothed a hand over it, readjusted my purse on my shoulder, and let the carpet of the ballroom swallow the clicking of my heels as I stepped in.
Stalls were set out across the space, each one more enticing than the last. One. I just needed one. I fished for my phone in my pocket, unlocking it to check the miniature map the organizers had sent ahead of time. I would make my way around and hope for the best. Well, that is if I ever managed to speak to someone.
I started on the left, walking to the least crowded stall—and for good reason, I realized with a wince. Hewn & Night were notorious for being cutthroat. For every fifty pitches, they were likely to represent one.
I squared my shoulders and strode forward. I had promised myself I would talk to everyone. Plus, what’s another rejection in a pile of many?
A blonde man sat behind the desk, his features morphed into a grin that was too sardonic to be friendly as I approached him. I willed myself to relax. I didn’t care to be represented by them to begin with, and I was just doing my rounds.
“Hello,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “I’m Feyre Archeron.”
“Feyre Archeron.” He dragged out my name. “A brave girl for coming here. Let me guess? You write romance.”
I bristled inwardly. “It’s a new adult fantasy romance, yes, but there are many layers to the book.” I gave myself a moment to breathe around the anger bubbling up, but before I could speak again, he was cutting in.
“We’re not interested in romances of any kind.”
I stood up with a wicked grin matching his. “Thank you for your time,” I said, and didn’t mean it one bit. Not as I strode to Velaris Literary next with its bubbly blonde representative and her quiet colleague. While they weren’t necessarily looking for a fantasy romance at the moment, she said they would make exceptions if my manuscript was exemplary, and I walked away with the first business card of the night.
My hope was high enough that not even the subtle sexism of Spring Inc.’s representative could dim it.
I veered right, to the last stall, aiming for Helios Literary and the red-haired lady representing them, her hair slicked back in a neat french-twist. Her eyes were warm as she chatted with another woman. I stood in line, a nervous fluttering in my stomach. This was my last chance.
The conversation in front of me halted eventually, the woman pocketing a card and leaving, and then the representative’s warm eyes shifted to me.
“Hello, I’m Helen.”
I extended a hand in greeting. “Feyre Archeron, pleasure to meet you.”
“What are we looking for Ms. Archeron?”
“Frankly, I’ve written a book, and I’m looking for an agent,” I started, willing the words to order themselves in my head. “It’s a fantasy romance.”
Helen’s lips ticked upwards. “Tell me more.”
And so I did. I told her of my protagonists, their lives, the journeys they make, and she listened throughout it all.
“That’s beautiful work you’ve got there,” she said. “Do you have a finished manuscript?”
I nodded.
“Brilliant! Email it to this address,” she said, giving me a business card. “Just write your name and ‘conference’ in the subject. I’ll let our agents know to be on the lookout.”
My lips broke into a smile, feeling too big for my face and yet too small for the happiness growing inside of me. I thanked her, pocketing another card in my purse. I glanced at my wristwatch.
In twenty minutes, this ballroom would be quiet once more as the first day ended, but there was no reason for me to stay until the end, not when I could have a drink instead. Any fated introductions would find me there.
I turned on my heel, each step clicking on the marble flooring of the hotel as I walked out of the ballroom and to the bar. I slid onto a stool, sighing when my feet no longer bore my weight. There would be no wearing heels tomorrow.
“Excuse me.”
I turned around, coming face to face with a raven-haired man, eyes a shade of blue that should’ve only been possible in a fantasy novel. And when I could bear to move my gaze elsewhere, my eyes caught on his full lips, ticking upwards by the second.
“Yes?” I managed to say.
“Is that seat taken?” he gestured to the barstool next to mine, golden forearms on display beneath his rolled up sleeves.
“No, it’s not.”
He slid onto it, setting a stack of three books on the bar and leaning an elbow on them. Another literary agent? He must’ve caught where my eyes had wandered because he smiled, sheepishly this time.
“Rhysand Knight,” he said, extending a hand to me. I shook it.
Not a literary agent. I glanced at the half-obscured book spines. An author, one whose name was more familiar than not. “Feyre Archeron.”
“Lovely to meet you, Ms. Archeron,” he said. “Here for the conference?”
I nodded. “Trying to find an agent.”
“Ah.” He winced. “How did that go?”
“Well enough?” I laughed. “Why are you having flashbacks?”
He smiled again, pearly white teeth gleaming against the low-lights of the bar, but it was the lone dimple just under his lower lip that caught my attention. “In fact, Ms. Archeron, I am.”
“What do you write then?” I asked, trying to peer at the books.
He slid a book towards me. “Rom-coms.”
I glanced at the title, my mouth dropping open. “You’re the author of Starlight Fate!”
He rubbed his neck. “Indeed I am.”
I slid back the copy to him. “I bet people never expect that you write rom-coms.”
“Most people think I must write nonfiction, or maybe dark fantasy. Horror, sci-fi.” He looked at me, one eyebrow arched up. “What about you?”
“Fantasy romance,” I said. “Though I’m tempted to just say fantasy from now on. People hear romance and see I’m a woman and immediately assume my writing is silly.”
Rhysand’s eyebrows furrowed. “That sucks, I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “Can’t do much about it, I suppose,” I said. “What are you here for then if not to beguile literary agents to represent you?”
“I’m supposed to speak at the panel tomorrow.” He smirked. “To inspire unrepresented authors and all that. Marketing for the literary agency essentially.”
“Consider me inspired.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve spoken to the author of Starlight Fate. It doesn't get more inspiring than that.”
“Oh, Ms. Archeron, I think you’ve got it all wrong,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I have a feeling you’ll overshadow humble, old me very soon.”
Heat rose to my cheeks. “Smooth talker.”
“I’ll see–” he began, but Morrigan, the bubbly blonde from the conference came striding in.
“Knight, have you signed these books yet?” she pointed at the stack under his elbow then turned to me, not deigning to wait for his reply. He gave me a long suffering look as he uncapped a sharpie and began to sign. I grinned at him, barely restraining my giggles. “Feyre, right?” Morrigan asked.
“That is me.”
“You know what, I might represent you instead of him,” she said, a cheeky smile on her face. “At least, I’ll have someone agreeable to swim with on weekend long retreats like this one.”
Rhysand cursed her under his breath. She rolled her eyes. I laughed, spluttering at the casual nature of the two’s relationship.
“Mor, you’re scaring Ms. Archeron off,” Rhysand grumbled as he capped his sharpie and handed her the books, facing me again. “She’s my cousin and my agent if you were wondering.”
“Oh, that makes more sense.”
Mor held the books to her chest. “Tell you what, Feyre? How about we meet tomorrow morning at the pool after breakfast. We’ll have a nice swim, and you can tell me more about that book.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“See you then,” she said, and with a last wink was striding back out of the bar.
Rhys stared after her, shaking his head at her antics. His eyes met mine again. “Well, that happened. You might get an agent after tomorrow.”
“You think?” I smiled at him again. It was hard not to.
Silence stretched taut between us for a couple of seconds, but then I was blurting out, “Why romance?”
He stared at me, eyes so piercing as they looked into mine, I could feel my heart beating against my ribcage in my chest. “Because I think love is beautiful, the way it can strip us bare with care.” He leaned forward. I did too.
“The way it pours slowly into us, making a home of the other person,” he continued. “I think love is wonderful, and I wait for the day I can have it, with all my broken pieces that I’ll try my hardest to make whole for whoever she is.”
I exhaled a breath, the air feeling too thin in my lungs. Rhysand extended a hand, waited for me to pull back, and when I didn’t, his fingers caressed a strand of my unbound hair. But as soon as he touched me, he retracted his hand.
“What about you, Ms. Archeron?” he whispered.
“Me?” I croaked out.
“Why do you write romance?”
I pulled back slightly. If I had hopes of answering, I would need the distance. “I like to think there’s pure love out there,” I said. “A kind far better than what I’ve experienced.”
He nodded, nodded like he understood, a strand of black hair falling onto his forehead.
“Do you wanna do something fun?” I asked.
“With you?” he said, a smirk on his face. “Anything.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to an empty field and just run and run until I can’t breathe anymore.”
“How convenient for you that there is one just behind the hotel.” He stood up, towering over me then, and extended a hand. “If you’ve never screamed your heart out to the stars, you’re missing out. It’s very therapeutic.”
“Well, looks like I’m about to find out,” I said and placed my hand in his.
We paced ourselves as we walked out of the bar, but as soon as we exited the glass doors and into the outdoors, we dissolved into laughter like a pair of naughty children.
“Wait,” I said, a breath short from laughing. I removed my heels, holding them in my other hand, and that was all the encouragement he needed. He jogged forward on the grass, taking me with him.
My hair billowed behind me, the rushing air cool on my skin, and Rhysand…he was a vision. Much of the night as the moon was. We ran forward, forward, forward until we stopped at the top of a hill and I was laughing so hard, tears were escaping my eyes.
“We’re crazy,” I said, my face flushed. Air rattling in and out of my lungs. “We’re so crazy.”
“It’s part of being a writer, I believe,” he said.
I was still breathless, and his gaze on me was making it harder to breathe. But at last, he sat on the ground, expensive slacks and all. “Watch the stars with me?”
I contemplated it for a moment, but in the end, I sat down with a quiet nod. And to think I had gone to the bar for a drink. Only to end up here, but I couldn’t be mad, not when I found both the night sky and Rhysand equally captivating to look at.
We didn’t speak, didn’t dare breathe too loud, content to sit in silence. Two strangers in a vast sea of people. When the wind began picking up and I contemplated calling it a night, Rhysand’s phone pinged. He took it out of his pocket, staring at the message for a moment before he was rolling his eyes.
“Is that Morrigan?” I asked, my voice full of mirth despite myself.
“Don’t sound so amused, Ms. Archeron,” he said, but he was grinning too. “If she becomes your agent, you’ll be getting messages like these too.”
He turned his phone so I could see the text.
11:00 pm Rhys!!
11:00 pm Where r u??
11:01 pm Az said he won’t stay up with me unless u’re there too :(
11:01 pm Come on, don’t be a spoilsport
11:02 pm Omg wait
11:02 pm R u not in ur room bcz u’re with feyre?
11:03 pm BRING FEYRE
I couldn’t help the chuckle that came out of me. “She’s a force of nature.”
Rhys groaned. “You’re telling me.” He turned to me. “So…”
I raised a brow. “So.”
“Wanna come up?” he said. “Knowing Mor, she’s got alcohol involved.”
I chewed on my lip. “Would that affect my chances of getting an agent?”
“Not with Mor,” he said. “She probably just wants to get to know you better.”
I thought on it for a while, and he must’ve taken my silence for hesitation because he said, “No pressure. It’s totally your call. Whether you come up or not, your chances of getting represented won’t change.”
But I had already made my decision. “Let’s go,” I said. “I have a feeling Morrigan and I will be friends.”
He stood up, dusting off his slacks. “Mother spare me.”
He extended a hand, and I took it, standing up. I had a feeling this was a tipping point of some sort, like the universe will never go back to the way it was.
Maybe the scales have tipped to one side.
Maybe I wanted them to.