Page 104 of The Scarlet Veil

Though I hate him for it—though I blame him entirely for my sister’s death—I understand its lure. It lingers like a toothache when you’re surrounded by extraordinary people, when you yourself are thoroughly and irreparably ordinary. When Lou beckons the stars with the crook of her finger, I cannot help but gasp and clutch my jaw. When Reid catches them in a glittering bouquet, I bite down hard, again and again, until that toothache consumes my entire body. Until I cannot think of anything else, cannotdoanything else but want.

Sometimes, I think the wanting will kill me.

It certainly killed my sister.

“Are you afraid?” Voice low, Michal pulls me toward another crimson door. This one stands at the bottom of a narrow spiral staircase of black stone, and when he pushes it open, I force myself to march past him, to enter the room first with my chin held high.

“No,” I lie, breathless.

Michal smirks and follows after me.

We step onto a metal platform that runs the circumference of the room. Enormous fireplaces curve along the walls—built of the same black, rough-hewn stone as the corridor—and inside their hearths, strange black fire crackles, casting stranger light on the center of theroom.The pit, I realize with a sudden stab of delirium. Several feet below the outer platform, it spans wide and deep; dark velvet pillows scatter across its floor between low chaises and settees, and atop them, creatures I’ve never seen. Most writhe and twist so closely that I can’t tell where one body ends and another begins, but some simply lounge and watch. My cheeks flush hotter with each second. There are witches and werewolves and melusines, yes, but there are also... others. Creatures I’ve never before seen.

You know the rules. The maiden is not welcome here.

Any doubt of Eponine’s meaning flees when a pallid woman laps at the bloody palm of a scarred courtesan. When a dragonesque man flicks a forked tongue in the ear of another. When a horned woman digs sharp nails into the latter’s hips. Behind them, a fully transformed werewolf throws their head back, howling as a man with scales strokes his tail. No human—at least, no discernible one—joins the revelry.

Wait.

It takes several seconds for my eyes to see past the—therelationsoccurring below us, but when they do, they dart between the different creatures with rising panic. In a sea of black fabrics, the courtesans burn bright like beacons in the night... because each one of them wears brilliant crimson.

My eyes widen at the realization, and I sway on the spot.

Each and every courtesan wears a crimson gown, crimson suit, or crimson cape. Two melusines wear crimson roses in their silvery hair, while crimson jewelry drips from a broad-shouldered loup garou’s neck. Indeed, crimson is the only color in the entire room other than black, which ismoststartling for anyone else wearing it.

Namelyme.

Whirling toward Michal, feeling rather light-headed, I hiss, “Why didn’t youtellme?” I seize my skirt and quell the urge to wrap it around his marble throat. “Give me your cloak!” I paw at his black traveling cloak instead. Tragically, I left mine aboard the ship. “Give it to me!”

A smirk still plays on his lips, and his black eyes glitter almost impishly as he evades my attack. “I told you to wear green.”

“You didn’t tell me the courtesans wearred.”

“According to you, I couldn’t have said a thing to change your mind.”

“If anyone here thinks I’m a courtesan, they’ll”—I wince and shake my head—“they’ll—”

“They’llwhat?”

I stare hard at my shoes, at the scuffed leather along the toes. At anything other than Michal, who sees too much and also nothing at all. “They’ll be very disappointed,” I whisper, my voice growing smaller with each word. I hate him for making me say them. For making me eventhinkthem. “Because I’m—I wouldn’t know the first thing about helping them, because I’m—because I’m a”—my voice is almost inaudible now—“a virgin.”

Michal still hears it. When I dare to glance back up at him, his smirk has faded. To my surprise, however, no pity has crept into his expression. No. That same strange intensity from the casket burns in his gaze, and he lifts a hand as if to touch my cheek before his fingers curl inward and he drops it back to his side. “No one would be disappointed,” he says shortly. Then he flags down a nearby courtesan, a lovely man with glowing violet eyes and lustrous dark skin. Bare-chested, he wears ruby studs in the shape offlowers through his nipples. “We need to speak with Pennelope Trousset,” Michal tells him.

The man dips his head—his ears are pointed—toward the pit. “Of course, monsieur, but Pennelope appears to be already engaged this morning. I’m late to an appointment myself, but might I suggest Adeline? We’ve been told her blood tastes sweetest.” He pulls a jewel-encrusted pocket watch from his belt, checking the time, before turning those beautiful violet eyes upon me. They flick down my dress curiously. “Is tonight your first shift, chérie?”

I swallow hard. “Er—no, monsieur.”

“No?” He blinks in confusion. “But how can that be? I never forget a face.” Leaning closer, he sniffs delicately, and his confusion only deepens at whatever he smells. I send up a fervent prayer of thanks that I brushed my teeth. “Ahumanface, it would seem. However did you convince Eponine to let you in?”

Helpless, I glance to Michal for an answer, but he only rumbles with laughter and starts toward the pit.

“Do the courtesans know what you are?” Trying not to hyperventilate now, I clamber down the stairs after him. “You said you’ve been here before, and that woman”—I jerk my head to our left—“is drinking that man’s blood.”

“They do not have a name for our kind, but they know and respect our tastes.” Among the bodies in the pit, a dancing couple threatens to separate us, but Michal’s hand snakes back to seize mine. He pulls me to his side, murmuring, “I thought you weren’t afraid?”

“I’mnotafraid. I’m—I—” But the words stick in my throat as I glance right, and the dragon man shifts, affording me an unobstructed view of his—of his—I turn my face away quickly, breathhitching, and lift a trembling hand to my forehead. What Iamis woefully unprepared for a situation like this. Just like my mother and father wanted me to be, just like Evangeline and my governesses wanted too. In all my years, in all my education, I’ve never once learned—never onceseen—

Filippa slipped through our window each night, yes, but she never told me what shedidwith her mysterious paramour. I’ve heard about sex, of course—read every book I could sneak into the house—but it’s much different to imagine it than toseeit with my own eyes.Seeingit makes the room feel much smaller than it should be, much hotter, as if I’m standing in an open flame, burning slowly alive.

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