Page 77 of The Assassin and the Libertine
Château de Champs-sur-Marne
The streetsof Paris were quieter than usual, but I suspected it was a result of the dropping temperature and thick blanket of snow insulating the city. Daphne had tried to convince me it was because a frigid pall had settled over France after the arrival of the blood plague, but I had my doubts. I studied her in the darkness of the carriage—lips drawn in a tight line, brows narrowed, distracted violet gaze focused on some fixed point on the horizon.
“This is my first time in front of The Order,” I said quietly. “I’m not sure what to expect. Are you always so nervous when you’re summoned?”
“I’m not nervous,” Daphne argued.
I scoffed.
“I’m not,” she insisted. “I’m simply…on my guard. And yes. I’m always on my guard when I’m summoned.”
Inwardly, I winced. That didn’t fill me with confidence. Daphne seemed to notice my anxious manner and placed a reassuring hand on my knee. My stomach fluttered, as it did every time she touched me.
The carriage ride seemed interminably long, but we arrived at the grim locale within the hour. It was a forgotten cemetery on the outskirts of the city. If the pristine, undisturbed layer of snow was any indication, no one had visited these poor souls in some time. I made to open the carriage door, but Daphne’s hand stayed me.
“Everything is going to be fine,” she said, likely to convince herself as much as me. “Even if it doesn’t seem so, I promise it will be. I will protect you from whatever comes our way.”
The earnestness in her tone made my dead heart squeeze. Dieu, I loved her. I still marveled at how we’d ended up here, when less than a year ago, she’d sworn revenge against every blood-sucking vampire in France. Still, her words needled my male pride no small amount.
“Duchesse,Iwill be the one to protectyou.”
She smiled somewhat indulgently at me and adjusted her cloak. I heard several small noises, then the click of a flintlock pistol cocking, the snap of the leather harness she used for her throwing daggers, and the rattle of shot and powder in her tiny silver case. Anyone would think she was preparing for battle, but I knew this was a reflexive habit more than anything.
We alit from the carriage, and she led the way to a small mausoleum in the back of the cemetery. She took out a large iron key and unlocked the door, then pushed it open with a heave from her shoulder. With a creak and a groan, it opened, and we entered the tomb.
I’d expected darkness, but we found ourselves at the top of a staircase with candles and charcoal braziers lining the walls. Daphne picked up her skirts, and we descended, careful notto bump into the guttering flames. At the bottom of the stairs stretched a long corridor that smelled of damp earth and stone. Distantly, I heard the low hum of hushed voices.
Daphne took a steadying breath as we neared the end of the corridor, facing a large oak door. She reached back to squeeze my hand, then knocked firmly three times. A liveried servant opened the door and bowed, then took our cloaks.
The inside of the room looked like a cross between a well-appointed gentlemen’s club and an impressive manor library. Maps of France lined the walls, alongside floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Standing around a large oval table were twenty or so men, each dressed in dark clothes and wearing black domino masks. They greeted Daphne politely but eyed me with reservation.
One of the older gentlemen—is that the Duc de Nevers?—cleared his throat and motioned to the assembly to be seated.
“I’ll get right to the point,” he said, addressing Daphne and I. “Madame. Monsieur. Thank you for attending on such short notice.”
Daphne nodded but did not speak.
“We have become aware of a rather delicate matter that requires our attention and utmost discretion. For several months now, we believe some of the courtiers at Versailles have been targeted by a thief.”
“What has been taken?” Daphne asked.
“Jewels, primarily. Some…significantones. Only items of great value and greater sentiment,” the man replied. “The robberies are daring—some have happened in broad daylight—and always in the same milieu. Some party or aristocratic function takes place, then the items suddenly disappear in the hours that follow.”
“Which would suggest a highly-placed individual. A trusted servant, or…”
Daphne’s eyes flashed behind her mask.
“A member of the court,” he finished.
“Hence the need for discretion,” she continued, nodding again. “Is the king aware?”
“We do not believe so, and we’d like to keep it that way. His Majesty has other things to occupy his mind, of course.”
“Are there suspects? Surely if the guest lists were cross-referenced, one would be able to find a common name,” she said.
“We’ve managed to narrow it down, but that still leaves us with a handful of potential offenders. Wemusthave this sorted quickly and quietly. There seems to be a dangerous pattern emerging.”
“With each subsequent theft, the thief gets closer to the king,” said another man.
