Page 96 of Monsters in Love

At one time they’d had a baron, who’d ruled these lands with his family. Now, they had Bishop Vaqueln. A man so dour, his face would probably shatter if it ever adopted a smile. And what an unnerving face it was. Narrow and pointed like a beak, his eyes small and close set across the bridge of a hooked nose. Harsh lines framed his mouth.

In his ceremonial robes of white velvet embroidered with thick gold—the colors of the fallen gods—he looked more like a bird of prey than a leader sent to save them from folly.

Beside him stood Jaston, dressed in his autumn finery: tight white breeches and an ochre velvet doublet with subtly puffed sleeves and threads of gold trim, which complimented the bishop’s robes. Jaston’s gaze landed on her and his top lip hooked into a smirk, as if he already considered her his property.

Gods have mercy

Emmi elbowed her and hissed, “Don’t let him win.”

“Never.” Isabelle spoke carefully, barely moving her lips. She tipped her chin and steeled her insides.

It was time to damage her reputation.

Their family was called forward and she stepped on her hem to lower her neckline just a little further, then intentionally stumbled on the single step to the bishop’s raised platform, repressing her usual grace. She curtsied as expected, but kept her back stiff and held her skirts unevenly as she dipped low. Small things, to be sure. Yet the bishop’s mouth tightened at the corners and a thrill of triumph ran through her.

It was working.

The spirits must be looking out for her.

She sent a tiny prayer to her guardian belfry and rose from her curtsey at the bishop’s bidding.

Now came the Captain of the Guard.

She recited thanks for Windhaven’s protection along with her mother, careful to let no feeling bleed into the words. Then she offered her hand to Jaston to kiss. Holding it limp, she gave no reaction as he pressed his lips to the back of her hand. The narrowed angle of his eyes told her that he’d expected more. Good. Let him be disappointed. She kept her expression placid and quietly slipped away when another group of young ladies approached—if he thought she’d cling to him like a vine, he was very much mistaken.

Without so much as a backward glance, she eased into the crowd, confident in the knowledge that he’d be trapped at the bishop’s side for at least another hour as they greeted all the attendees.

Giving me time to remove the bishop’s approval of our union.

She squeezed Emmi’s arm and mouthed,Wish me luck.

Her sister grinned and winked. “You’ve got this.”

Bolstered by the support, Isabelle set about doing as much minor damage to her reputation as she could in an hour.

Moving between pillars of woven branches and glimmering lights, she greeted neighbors and made a calculated series of social mistakes. She complimented the Yang sisters on their brightly-hued dresses—though the bright yellow was considered a summer color—and brushed a woven pillar with her shoulder, getting tiny pieces of dried vine and leaf in her hair. She danced with Ser Morris and laughed at the same brewing joke he told every year—even though the bishop had suggested ale should be spoken of seriously.

A glance at the figure sitting in the raised throne confirmed the bishop had noticed the laughter, and he wasn’t amused. His eyes glinted with warning, and for a moment, a skull sat where his face had been.

She blinked and the image vanished.

I’m imagining things, that is all.

Yet, she hesitated.

Throat tight, she ducked behind a pillar and tried to catch her breath. What if her guardian spirit was sending her a warning, trying to tell her she was in danger? Gods above, she didn’t want to go too far. And these days it was so hard to know when minor irritations would transform into sin.

But would one inappropriate laugh and a handful of compliments be enough to discourage Jaston?

Not a chance.

She straightened her shoulders.

No more quaking behind a pillar or imagining skulls for faces, she had work to do. So what if the bishop had taken note of her social blunders—that was good. She needed him to notice. Instead of hiding like a scared little mouse, she needed to finish the job. Make sure he rescinded approval and forced Jaston to turn his attentions elsewhere.

Anywhere else.

“Psst.” Emmi appeared at her side. “You’re doing great, sis.”

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