Page 45 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
“Sometimes, you’re impossible.” Quinn glowered at her best friend, who simply shrugged.
“Does this mean that you’ll tell me the information you’ve gathered about the murder thus far?” Emrys asked Giselle.
“Tell me why you were with Jane, and we will tell you,” Quinn said defiantly, crossing her arms. “You don’t seem like the type of gentleman who settles on one dalliance, so I don’t believe you were courting Jane.”
“No, I wasn’tcourtingher.” His eyes sparkled as he emphasized the word. “Jane was like my sister.”
Quinn sucked in a long, belabored breath. “Then, why did you need herhelp?”
“I cannot tell you that,” he said, leaning against the wooden rail and striking a pose.
Ugh. He loved to do that. And it was irritating. And distracting.
She swallowed and tore her gaze away. “You’re asking me to trust you with vital information, that you aren’t her killer, that you have her best interest at heart, and yet you’re unwilling to trust me with your truth?”
“It’s not a matter of trust.” Emrys visibly held something back.
“It certainly seems like it is,” she said under her breath.
Before he could respond, high-pitched feminine laughter floated across a path. Jevon appeared with both a clearly intoxicated Constance and the ever-regal Countess Atwater on his arms. The glee on Constance’s lips faded as her eyes locked on the prince. And before Emrys could turn his head to glimpse her, Constance disappeared into an alcove like a wraith clinging to darkness.
That was strange.It was like she purposely was avoiding Emrys.
Was that one of Constance’s mirror abilities, too? The ability to disappear quickly?
Unfortunately, Countess Atwater continued on and bounded across the paths with a terrorizing expression on her face.
In what world did Jevon think this was appropriate? He knew Quinn hated the countess. Teagan Atwater was the devil incarnate, and she took every opportunity to mortify people.
Quinn respectfully bowed to the prince. “Goodnight, Mr. Avalon.” She couldn’t avoid the countess and her plans for torture, but Quinn could bow out as quickly as possible, steal Jevon away, and ask him what he was thinking.
“Technically, it should be goodnight,Your Royalle Highness,” the countess corrected, staring daggers at the other girls.
Quinn clenched her fists and said through gritted teeth, “Goodnight,Your Royalle Highness.” Without hesitation, she stalked to Jevon, clutched his arm, and pulled him away. Once they reached Constance’s hiding spot in the alcove, Quinn turned on her friend. “Jevon, what were you thinking escorting Teagan Atwater?”
“He was thinking with his cock—” Giselle started.
“While I often think with my cock”—Jevon waved a hand in the air—“I was distracting Lady Teagan with my considerable talents so she would stop asking around about Jane. She was being far too obvious and would ruin our plans.”
Constance’s face slightly soured. She hated the countess and probably hated the thought of Jevon entertaining her. But Constance was ever the actress and always hid her true feelings behind jubilance and liquor. Just like she was currently hiding her current grief behind the alcohol. Quinn couldn’t fault her for that because she was also hiding—behind work and always being busy.
If she didn’t stop, she wouldn’t have to feel the pain.
“Teagan was asking about Jane?” Quinn’s brow furrowed.
“Probably on the prince’s behalf, but I thought I would intervene,” he said, his shoulders slightly slumped.
“Yes, good thinking.” Quinn nodded. “Did you learn anything on your adventures?”
Constance held out a hand. “Wait, wait before we go on. We need more drinks.” Then she led the group to a seating area with cocktail waitresses.
Once they were served, the friends traded stories. Jevon and Constance discovered that Francois was the Fox but were unable to find him. They also learned that Jane was a well-respectedmember of Les Fantômes and lived in the row houses above the casino.
The group talked and drank for a couple of hours. Losing themselves to the buzz of alcohol and the excitement of the casino. They danced the lindy-hop and let loose, which was admittedly hard for Quinn, but she needed something to keep her from thinking about the threatening note, the murder, and the fact that she had no suspects or true leads in the case.
She needed something to keep her from breaking down. So, she drank and partied . . . until Jevon pulled her aside.
“How are you doing?” Compassion painted his face. “I know you loved Jane.”
