Page 95 of The Scarlet Veil

“No,” he says, his voice strangely quiet instead. “I don’t.”

“Do you want me to tell you?”

A wry twist of his lips as he pushes my chair back to all fours. “Do I have a choice?”

“No”—I spring to my feet once more, and he takes a step back to avoid the collision—“and it wasn’t awkward because Lou and Reid aresoul mates. Just like yourparents, Michal.”

“Is that so?”

I nod enthusiastically. “You already know Reid and I dated because you—well, I don’t know how you know, exactly—but I bet you don’t know how perfect they are for each other. I bet you don’t know that Lou plays four instruments. I bet you don’t know that Reid dancessplendidlyaround the maypole when he thinks no one is watching.” I poke him in the chest again, daring him to contradict me. “He dances better than you, I’m sure.Andhe’s taller.”

His lips twitch. “A god among men.”

“Reid would never invite that comparison. He’s too humble.” Lifting my nose in the air, I turn and snatch the bottle of absinthe from the drawer. This time, Michal doesn’t even try to stop me. He leans against the nearest coffin instead, folding his arms acrosshis chest and watching me. “And don’t forget about his brother, Beau,” I tell him, unstoppering the absinthe for another drink. It doesn’t even burn my throat now. Indeed, my tongue has gone completely numb. “Beau just might be the funniest person in the entire world. He’s a gentlemananda rogue, and when he smiles, he looks exactly how I imagine a dashing pirate to look—all charm and dimples and danger. And Coco—Coco”—I shake the bottle for emphasis, unable to stop myself—“Coco is so muchmorethan a beautiful face, you know? She has this razor-sharp wit and tough exterior, but it’s only because she doesn’t like to feel vulnerable.” I cradle the bottle against my chest now, leaning against the desk and tracing the green fairy’s wings with my thumb. Perhaps I’ll dye my hair emerald like hers for the masquerade on All Hallows’ Eve. Perhaps Monsieur Marc will sew all of us matching wings. I sigh happily at the thought. “I just love them all so much.”

“Really?” He arches a sardonic brow. “I never would’ve guessed.”

Startled, I glance up at Michal and frown. Because I’d quite forgotten he was here. Because judging by his tone, he doesn’t love my friends like I do, and because he—he plans to—

The room swirls dangerously as I seize a letter opener from Odessa’s desk drawer, brandishing it at him like a knife. It’s much lighter than the lances and longswords of Chasseur Tower. Much more agreeable. “I will not let you kill them, monsieur,” I say abruptly.

He rolls his eyes, but otherwise, he doesn’t move. “Put that away before you hurt yourself.”

My own eyes flash at the dismissal. “You can’t tell me what to do. Everyone isalwaystrying to tell me what to do, but only one of them is my captain—youare not my captain—which means I don’thave to listen to a word you say.”

At mention of Jean Luc, all humor in Michal’s expression flickers out.

“Ah, yes.” Clasping his hands behind his back, he stares down at the tip of the letter opener against his chest. Regretfully, it’s made of steel and not silver. “Célie, the huntswoman. For a moment there, I forgot. How many people wouldyouhave killed, I wonder, if you’d stayed in Chasseur Tower?” He steps pointedly into the letter opener, and it—my eyes widen in disbelief—it bends against his chest. Itbends. I drop it hastily, scramble backward, and careen into Odessa’s desk. He doesn’t stop strolling toward me, however, slowly closing the distance between us. “You certainly never hesitate to attackme. Why is that?”

“Because you’re a monster.” Still backpedaling, I throw the bottle of absinthe at him to stop his approach. I don’t even knowwhyI want to stop his approach. He promised he wouldn’t hurt me, yet something in the determined set of his jaw sends a delicious skitter down my back. He catches the bottle with one hand and throws it into Odessa’s desk drawer. “And I’mnota Chasseur,” I tell him stubbornly, darting behind a coffin. “Not anymore.”

“You certainly think like a Chasseur. Does your beloved captain know you’ve broken your vow?”

“No, he—” My brows furrow in confusion, and I recoil, blinking hard. I forgot to tell him about Jean Luc. I told him all about the others, but somehow, I forgot to mention how driven Jean is, how steadfast and capable and devoted.Does your beloved captain know you’ve broken your vow?A low hum fills my ears at the question, making it impossible to think. “What—what do you mean bythat?” I ask him suspiciously.

He plants his hands atop the coffin. “You tell me.”

But—no. I don’t like his question. I don’t like it at all. Indeed, this conversation has grown irrevocably dull.

“I—I’m not telling you anything, and I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Resolute, I turn away from him into the aisle. He will not ruin this moment for me, no matter how hard he tries. It doesn’t matter that I’m nineteen instead of fifteen, that my only companion here is la fée verte—I too can light a metaphorical barn on fire. I look around desperately for something to do. The ship has stopped pitching, which means we must’ve outstripped the storm, and beyond the stairs—somewhere on the sodden deck—a sailor plays a lively jig on his harmonica.That’s it.I bounce a little on my toes at the sound. Wearein a ballroom, after all, and I haven’t danced in ages.

I don’t hear Michal move behind.

“Let us hope,” he says, his voice unexpectedly strained, “that Monsieur Diggory didn’t teach you how to dance.”

Leaping from my skin, I whirl again—this time to push him away—but stop short at the last second. He stands very close to me.Tooclose, yet my feet grow roots as I stare up at him. Standing this near, this still, I could count his eyelashes if I wanted. I could sweep my thumb across them, could trace the line of his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth.

I could graze the tips of his teeth.

My breath hitches at the intrusive thought, and unbidden, my gaze falls to his lips. Though his expression remains carefully empty, he doesn’t move either. He doesn’t breathe.

He didn’t breathe in the theater when he scented my fear. Or the aviary when he scented my blood.

Because he’s a monster, my mind repeats, thrashing wildly against me.A monster.

Stomach fluttering, I lift a tentative hand anyway.

In that instant, however, a knock sounds on the door, and a sailor pokes his head inside the room. “Your Majesty,” he says, and the unnerving tension between us shatters.Your Majesty.I snort loudly at the designation and step back. Michal turns stiffly to look at the sailor, who cowers beneath his black glare. “Apologies, Your Majesty, but three ships approach with the Belterran flag. They’ve signaled for a cargo search.”

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