Page 86 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
He remained on his knees as if begging his queen. Blood trickled down his lips and tangled in his teeth, and yet he smiled brightly. “Where did you learn to land a punch like that?”
“I practiced on a boy in my youth.”
Quinn narrowed her eyes at Giselle, who only glared down at Francois—venom coating her body. Typically, because they were so close, Quinn could predict exactly what her best friend meant, how she felt, and what she would do or say next, but this one caught Quinn slightly off-kilter. Was the boy from Giselle’s youth Francois?
Because he was the fox?
It must have been.
The Fox was a friend from Giselle’s past—a past filled with violence and gangs. It was clear that he didn’t recognize her, but it was also utterly unclear why Giselle refused to acknowledge her acquaintance.
Francois brushed off his pants but didn’t bother to remove the blood lacing his face. Instead, he climbed to his feet and towered over Giselle, stepping up close. The energy between them surged. “I think I would like to meet this man.”
“I wouldn’t bother.” Her eyes stroked over him before she said, “He is a great disappointment.”
Quinn tried to stifle a laugh but was unsuccessful. All eyes flashed to her. “I’m sorry, please don’t mind me.”
With a step back, as if Giselle just noticed how close they stood, she said, “Let us go, and I’ll help you with the plans from the mirror.”
“I don’t have any idea what you mean by that.”
“Yes, you do.” She crossed her arms and licked her lips. His eyes tracked her progress. “You plan to break into the Pelican and rescue the Bullet, and now that Jane is dead, you’re missing a key member of your team.”
He raised an eyebrow, the blood from his split lip still streaking down his chin. “Are we?”
“I saw your plans,Fox.” The nickname was spoken like liquid electricity. “I know you’re planning a jailbreak, and based on your plans, you’re going to fail.”
Francois scoffed. “I highly doubt it.”
“The Rock is inescapable. It is surrounded by wicked currents, sharks, and mirror protections. You cannot prance in the way your plans suggest.” Giselle licked her lips again. “If you’d like to actually get the Bullet out, you’ll need my help. Not only am I a trained acrobat, but I’m also an inventor; I can break into the system.”
Francois cocked his head and examined her. “Why would you want to help?”
“You mean besides as a way to get you to let us go?”
“I don’t trust you. Why would I want to work with someone I don’t trust?”
Before Giselle could respond, Emrys fell out of the mirror with tangled limbs and a murderous look on his face.
In a flash, he was up and brushing off his suit. Emrys straightened his cravat before saying, “The second Blood Mirror is at the Royalle Ballet.”
Twenty-Nine
Quinn loosed a breath. Her plan to stall long enough for Emrys to return worked, but now she needed a new plan.
There seemed to be no good reason why the groups couldn’t work together to solve the murders and find the mirror. After all, neither Francois nor Hadleigh’s prints matched the killer’s—she checked this morning—which meant they were most likely innocent.
“It seems like we all have the same goal,” Quinn said. “Why don’t we stop working against each other and start working together?”
Quinn didn’t actually want their help. She couldn’t trust them, but she needed to get out of this situation and to the Royalle Ballet.
She had no idea what to do once she found the mirror, but she couldn’t let the killer get the paintings. It seemed like the best plan was to find the mirror and lure the murderer there. Get them to come to her and Emrys.
Francois glared at the prince. “Have you ever heard of asking politely? Your ballerina certainly knows how to.”
“Where is the fun in that?” Emrys flashed a dimple. “It was far more entertaining watching the women break in. Little phantom here”—he waved at Giselle—“is quite a talented lockpick.”
“I told you not to call me that,” Giselle said through her teeth.
