Page 61 of The Scarlet Veil

Before I can follow, however, another voice emerges from the darkness beyond the brocade curtain. Fainter than the others. So faint I might imagine it.Come here, sweeting. Such a lovely little doll.

Like a band snapping, the darkness returns, and I collapse face-first into Michal’s chest.

Chapter Nineteen

Rough Day

My dream is cold.

Ice seems to cling to my lashes, my lips, as I rise from my bed and peer around the strange room. It looks familiar—like a place I should recognize—yet it isn’t the nursery. It isn’t Requiem either. A neat coat and skirt—both brilliant blue—hang within the armoire, and a fireplace crackles merrily from across the room, wafting chill instead of heat and casting strange fey light upon the walls. I lift my hand to watch it dance between my fingers. As with the air, this light feels sharp to the touch, like plunging your hand into snow.

Chasseur Tower.

The thought comes instantly, effortlessly, and on the wings of one realization comes another: I am not alone in this room.

My head turns as though suspended in a substance lighter and thinner than air, yet I have no difficulty breathing. Beside me on the bed, two young women sit with their faces drawn and anxious. They stare at a third woman—this one older, her long black hair beginning to gray at the temples—who rifles through a small desk near the door. “There must besomething,” the woman mutters bitterly, more to herself than the others. “You cannot have looked properly.”

The young women exchange a forlorn glance.

“Perhaps you’re right, Madame Tremblay,” the first says, twisting the moonstone ring around her finger.

The second clasps scarred hands in her lap. “We probably did miss something.”

Lou and Coco.

Again, the knowledge simply crystallizes, as does the fact that I know these women. I call them friends. Anticipation gusts to life inside me at the realization, and I shoot to my feet, darting around the bed to face them. As if she can sense my presence, Lou stiffens with a slight frown, but she doesn’t look at me. None of them do. I’m not certain if this should upset me. Indeed, I’m not certain if I should feel anything at all, so I sit meekly instead.

At the foot of the bed, a wrinkled green quilt spills over the edge. No one folds it. No one even touches it.

I must have left it like that, I realize suddenly. But why wouldn’t they fix it?

Madame Tremblay—no,Maman—straightens with familiar pursed lips. They promise a slew of criticisms if Lou or Coco dares put a single toe out of line. Fortunately, the girls remain quiet, watching as Maman piles books and jewelry and two golden lockpicks atop the desk. “The Chasseurs should expectzerodonations from us this coming year. The entire lot of them are useless.” Maman yanks out the drawer too fast and hisses when blood wells on her index finger, a splinter of wood sticking out of her skin like a white flag of surrender.

“Madame Tremblay,” Lou murmurs quietly, “please allow one of us to heal you—”

“Absolutely not.” Maman straightens, brushing her hair aside, and blood paints the gray ones scarlet. “Pardon my honesty, butmagic is... well, it isvile. Indeed, it is why we’re in this mess in the first place. Aweek,” she seethes. “My daughter has been missing for aweek, and what progress have you made in returning her?”

“I promise we have more eyes searching Belterra than you could fit in that magnificent handbag.” Lou offers a weak smile—a strained one—and squeezes her moonstone ring so tightly that it begins to melt her flesh. Coco reaches out and snatches her hand. Lou’s skin soothes instantly, and the ring returns to its previous impeccable shape.

They don’t release each other’s hands, however.

The sight of their clasped fingers fills me with a sense of both comfort and longing.

Maman shoves the drawer back in place, and the desk rattles as books—mybooks—wobble dangerously on the shelf above it. Almost magically, however, they shift an inch backward, away from the ledge.

Maman still notices, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin indignantly. “I do not approve. Whatever you and your... yourDames Blanchesare doing, Ido not approve.”

“You don’t need to approve,” Coco says. Anyone else would’ve delivered the retort under their breath—probably served with an eye roll—but she meets Maman’s gaze directly. “We want to find Célie just as much as you, Madame Tremblay, and we’re going to dowhateveris necessary until we do. Including use magic. There is no other option.”

Find Célie.

Find Célie?

Confusion dances around my head like a flurry of fresh snowflakes. I can’t imagine why they would need to find me when I’mright here. I drift closer to my friends, resting my hand on theirs. Lou straightens, glancing at Coco with narrowed eyes.

Perhaps I’m not the only one confused. “I’m right here,” I whisper to her.

My words ricochet off the walls, met with an echo of deafening silence. I sit in it, certain I’m meant to be doing something too. Searching for something? No, perhaps that isn’t right. Perhaps I’m meant to besad. But why? Why can’t I remember?

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