Page 21 of The Assassin and the Libertine
“Have you been in contact with your masters?”
I bristled. “Mywhat?”
“The Order.”
“They arenotmy masters. I simply work with them to address the more pressing threats to king and country,” I said stiffly.
“Threats like vampires,” he said, putting down the empty bowl. His fangs glinted in the candlelight as he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.
“Yes. The blood plague is a threat to the country. People are dying, Étienne. Not every vampire leaves their victim alive after feeding.”
“People are also dying of hunger, Duchesse. Certainly, the plague adds to the numbers, but I have a hard time agreeing with The Order when their policy is to simply stake all the infected to prevent the plague from spreading. You’re a smart woman. You can’t tell me that you think it makes sense to kill people in order to protect them.” He picked up the wine glass from the tray and sipped at it.
“If the deaths of a few will protect the many, then yes, that makes sense to me.”
“And you think The Order has the right to determine that? What if the plague had only struck the aristocracy? Would you feel the same way? Would you be willing to lay down your life as a possible disease spreader, in order to protect the lowly peasants?”
“I—well, yes, I would. If it was for the good for the many,” I argued, folding my arms in front of me.
Étienne tutted. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Trust me when I tell you that this condition—this burden—is not one to be taken lightly. The choice between infection and death is a near-impossible one, even for a disgraced wretch like me.”
I narrowed my eyes. “At least you have an eternity to right your wrongs. To make amends.”
“It’s hard to make amends with the dead,” he said quietly.
For the first time, I saw a flash of regret in his hazel eyes. I wondered who he thought of in that moment, and before I could catch myself, I felt a swell of sympathy for him. I knew what it was like to lose loved ones before you had the chance to tell them everything you wanted to. For a man who was surrounded by death, he must have felt that tenfold.
He cleared his throat and took a swig of wine.
“Besides, who told you vampires were the minority?”
I stilled. “But, they are! There cannot be so many. The Order?—”
He cut me off with an arched brow. “We are more than you think, Duchesse.”
His velvet tone implied he was referring to more than the number of vampires in France. I met his gaze and found myself thinking of his body pressed against mine, his kisses on my neck. I blushed.I shouldn’t have liked it—shouldn’t have wanted it to continue.I didn’t trust him one whit, but that hadn’t seemed to matter to my body.
Étienne stood from the bed, clad only in his loose linen shirt and breeches, and strode over to me. His eyes never left mine. When he was mere inches from me, he stopped.
“As am I,” he murmured. He leaned forward and I closed my eyes reflexively, fearfully prepared—no, shamefully hoping—for the kiss to come. My breath quickened. My lips parted.
But the kiss never arrived.
Instead, I felt him gently lift my hand to his lips. My eyes flew open. He pressed a chaste kiss to the back of my hand and smiled up at me through his lashes.
“Thank you for keeping me company while I dined this evening. I’m deeply indebted to you for your hospitality. I’ll bid you goodnight, Duchesse.”
He opened the door for me, handed me the dinner tray, and bowed before retreating back inside the cellar. It took me some moments to recover my senses enough to make a rather incensed march back upstairs.
To distract myself from a whirlwind of confusing emotions—unspent lust, embarrassment, confusion, frustration, and no small amount of anger—I asked for dinner to be brought into the library and sat at my desk to tackle a mountain of correspondence that I’d been avoiding.
I put aside the apologetic missive from Philippe. I still didn’t have any proof of Étienne’s innocence, and I was loath to tell Philippe I was playing host, nursemaid,anddinner to the man I’d been sent to kill. Anxiety had rooted in my stomach at his suggestion that The Order would accuse me of having feelings for the vampire. Considering I’d been feeding him my own blood to keep him alive, that claim would be even more difficult to refute.
Days before, I’d finally gathered the courage to send a message to The Order and explain why I hadn’t killed Étienne. I’d declined to tell them about digging up Jeanne’s body and the recent events that brought Étienne to my doorstep—it made me uneasy to confront them about a second assassination attempt. Doing so would reveal that I was aware of it in the first place, and I didn’t want to play my hand until I had all the cards.
I was surprised when they responded so quickly, but no better off than I had been. While they agreed to allow me time to find proof of Étienne’s innocence, they made it clear that I would be doing so on my own. I wouldn’t have access to the resources or contacts that The Order possessed. I suspected they did so tolimit the impact of what they believed would be my likely failure. The clock was ticking, and I was alone in my quest for truth.
So be it.
