Page 56 of The Assassin and the Libertine
“You said it yourself, Duchesse. Food. Influence.”
I knew exactly what that was like. I’d heard scant rumors of Henri’s cruelty before I agreed to the match, but it was only after we were wed that I fully understood the depth of his depravity. My marriage had saved me from one kind of Hell, only to usher me into another. Étienne seemed to be in a similar Hell, though not necessarily one of his own making. I felt a swell of empathy for him and immediately regretted some of my words. Yes, I was angry and hurt, and incredibly tired of being underestimated by the men in my life, but that was no excuse to lash out at Étienne. Truthfully, I treasured our intimacies, but I was afraid of being strung along by a notorious rake who was only interested in saving his own skin.
Étienne leaned against the desk again, his handsome face inscrutable. I didn’t like the hiccup in my pulse when I lookedat him; all those taut muscles sheathed in sumptuous burgundy velvet, the antlers on his mask making him eerily demonic in the candlelight. He was a devil—born of fire, to be sure, but much of the fault lay within me for being so ready and willing to burn.
“So, Duchesse. Where do we go from here?”
I sighed and shook my head. An ache was building at the base of my neck and I needed quiet and clarity to think.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I won’t figure it out sitting in here.”
I smoothed my skirts and left, casting the barest glance back at him. He remained motionless, obviously lost in thought—still so handsome, still so tempting, still so dangerous. I walked down the hall back toward the ball, though I knew I wouldn’t stay long without Charlotte and Philippe to keep me company. Halfway there, I felt a cold draft of air blow through the hallway and I stopped. To my left was another narrow hall that led to the courtyard and gardens beyond. At the very end, I could see one long curtain swelling and fluttering with the breeze.Curious.
Why would someone leave a window open in the chill of October? I crossed slowly into the hall, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.
This was wrong.
My shoes crunched over broken glass and I saw that the window hadn’t been opened—it had been broken. Flecks of blood dotted pieces of glass that trailed outside into the frigid Paris night. Something bad had happened here.
Dread gathered in me when I realized that Philippe and Charlotte had been the only other people in this wing of the palace. Had there been some kind of accident?
“Étienne!” I called.
He was there in an instant, taking in the scene with a bright, intense gaze.
“Was it like this when you came through to the library?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No. It must have happened after I came through.”
“Do you think—” I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried again. “Do you think it is Charlotte’s or Philippe’s blood?”
Étienne picked up one of the glass fragments and inhaled, then licked the droplet of blood staining it. His pupils dilated to black pools and his fangs extended.
“I do not know who the blood belongs to, but I can tell you that it is a man’s.” He sniffed the air again and cast his eyes about, looking for something unseen. He walked to the billowing curtain and bent to pick up something on the floor.
I gasped in horror when he held it up.
“Charlotte’s mask!”
Étienne approached me, our argument forgotten, his face etched with concern. He took my hands in his and looked into my eyes.
“Daphne, there is something else,” he hedged.
Frightened, mind racing, I braced myself for what I knew would be devastating information.
“I smell the murderer here. I don’t know if it’s the demon, or Henri, or the summoner, but I smell it on the glass.”
The world spun on its axis and I shut my eyes tightly.No, Daphne. You cannot faint. Keep it together! You must—for Charlotte.
“What else do you detect?” I whispered.
“A few things I cannot place,” he said. “Some things I recognize from the bookshop. But, Daphne, if he—it—took Charlotte and Philippe, they’re probably still alive. Remember what the book said.”
“We have to go after them now! Before it’s too late!”
“We don’t know what we’re walking into and we don’t have any way to fight a demon. If we go in there ill prepared, it’ll be four corpses, not two. We have to come up with a plan.”
I wracked my brain, wildly grasping for a solution.How can you fight a demon?The obvious answer seemed to be a priest, but Étienne didn’t know any and the only ones I knew were in The Order.When was the last time I was even inside a church?
