Page 44 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
He wore a midnight black double-breasted tailcoat accented with emerald green trim, a silk cravat, and a gilded cane. He’d left his top hat at home. His ink-spilled hair framed his face and drew focus to his sparkling chestnut eyes, which blazed with mischief, humor, and entertainment. He looked like trouble dancing a tango with joy.
Apparently, he found Quinn surrounded by wicked gang members quite amusing.
“Ah, there is your prince now.” Francois beamed as he met Emrys’s stare. “We summoned a demon.”
“Don’t call himmyanything,” Quinn murmured and dropped her gaze to her feet. She did not need to peer at his deep arrogance.
Ignoring Quinn, Francois asked, “Do you appear anytime someone talks about you? Is that your power?”
Quinn’s heart stopped. Francois knew that Emrys was Mirror-Blessed.
“Often enough to keep you on your toes.” His words weren’t dark, but the way they trilled off his tongue made it feel like a threat. Like his words were a pool of darkness drowning her.
“That sounds intoxicating,” Francois said ruefully. Their dynamic was strange. Deadly yet friendly like they were two devils playing tricks on each other. They both basked in power and influence and could enchant with a smile.
“Well, I hate to ruin your fun, Francey, but I need to speak to our little ballerina.” Emrys was a picture of ease and power.
Quinn scoffed. She didn’t want to talk to him. Ever. Rogues might make other girls melt, but she was not interested in his playboy nature.
“Wait, I have one more question,” Quinn said. “Why was she asking about the Blood Mirror?” Quinn threw all caution to the wind. She needed to know this information.
Emrys’s hand stiffened, and shock jetéd across Francois's sculpted face before he cooled his features. “I have no idea,” he lied.
Interesting.So, the gang knew about the Blood Mirrors.
“A word of caution, Quinnevere Ashelle,” Francois said. “I may let you investigate Jane’s murder, but you should stay far away from anything else related to Les Fantômes’ business. Do you understand me?”
Quinn simply nodded. There was no point in arguing with a deadly gang leader. But he was threatening her, and that was information. It was a clue. And if he knew about the mirrors, maybe he knew about the tattoo.
“Do you know about this?” Quinn lifted her own arm, showing the bloody painting.
Francois paled and tossed a glance at Hadleigh. “No,” he lied again.
“Great!” Emrys flashed a fake prince charming smile. “Then the three of us will get going.”
The prince escorted them out with one hand curled around her right bicep. His touch shot fire through her body. But as soon as they were out of earshot, Quinn spun around and pushed him against the wall. He hit it with a thunk. “I didn’t need your help.”
A gilded grin painted his lips. “Yes, that seems to be a pattern for you. It was clear that you had the situation fully under control.”
“Why do you want to speak with me?” Quinn said, crossing her arms across her silk evening dress.
“To solve a murder.”
A murder she still wasn’t sure he didn’t commit.
Fifteen
“What have you discovered here?” Emrys’s voice, usually a dark-devilish-honey, now sounded like a bothersome gnat.
“Nothing I plan on sharing with you,” Quinn said, turning her back on him and walking into the center of a wooden pathway, a crossroads of sorts that led to four different paths. The glow of the cave’s fireflies illuminated their faces, and the water dampened their conversation.
Emrys turned his inscrutable gaze on Giselle. “You seem the more practical lady. Are you willing to share what you have learned?”
Giselle snorted and covered her mouth with a hand, trying to stifle her laughter. “You clearly don’t know us at all.”
Emrys smiled wide and bright, showing a dimple. “Yes, Lady Reyes-Vega. I was desperately mistaken. Quinnevere’s blood streams with practicality.”
Giselle laughed harder. “I like him.”
