Page 75 of The Shadow Bride

“Ah, how I’ve missed you.”

“Don’t you dare lay that disgusting charm onmelike we’re old chums. I told you not to come back, yet here you are, bold as brass.” She stands on unsteady feet and rubs her backside with an irritableharrumph, surveying the two of us with beady blue eyes asthe house gradually stops its rumbling. “Vampires. Always sticking their noses in my business—”

“I’m not certain I stillhavea nose,” I say indignantly.

“And it serves you right, doesn’t it? Teach you not to go poking it where it doesn’t belong. How did you even get in here?”

Rolling his eyes, Michal shrugs out of his leather surcoat in an attempt to shake out the brass dust. “I own this house, Mathilde.”

“Bah! Blackmail, pure and simple.” She shuffles to the settee, collapsing upon it and lifting her stout feet onto the footstool, which wasn’t there a moment ago. I blink suspiciously, peering around the rest of the room through my fingers. Unwilling to release my nose for fear of revealing a mangled heap of flesh and nostril to Michal. “And what is ownership, anyway, but the superficial right of possession? No, no, this property shall not be seized by any government whileIlive herein—”

Though Mathilde continues on—and on and on—I stop listening the instant Michal’s eyes find mine. They narrow slightly, and I tense as he strides toward me, ignoring my protests and prying my hands from my face. He peers between them to inspect my nose—looking utterly ridiculous with brass powder across his cheeks—before shaking his head and murmuring, “Ruined, I’m afraid.”

“Shut up, Michal.” Pushing him away, I feel it tentatively for any sign of damage. There doesn’t seem to be any, and a warm glow suffuses my chest at the sight of his treacherous little half smirk. Dangerous is what that is. Whatheis.

Very dangerous.

Belatedly, I realize I won the bet, and the possibilities both thrill and terrify me.

“Are the two of you evenlisteningto me?” Mathilde makes an angry sound from the settee. “Of course you aren’t. It smells like a gods-damned whorehouse in here—”

Michal arches a brow at the books scattered across the floor. “Are you sure that isn’t eau deMilking the Minotaur?”

Mathilde squawks in outrage. “The audacity! You charge intomyhome, obliteratemyparlor, and dare to insult my creature comforts? One would think the nosebleeds and tremors are enough.Beastlythings, they are, most inconvenient—”

“—and also why we’re here.” Though Michal turns to face her, he halts abruptly when I reach up to wipe the powder from his face. Then—incredibly—he bends slightly to make it easier. I watch my fingers on his skin as if they belong to someone else, unable to withdraw them if I tried. Michal swallows.

In the next second, however, something sharp pokes between us. It spears him in the stomach as we spring apart, and he glares down at the fireplace poker Mathilde somehow wields from the settee. “Am I interrupting again?” she asks sharply. “I thought you were here to propositionme.”

His disgruntled gaze flicks to her, and he jerks the poker from her hand.

In an instant, a wide smile splits her face, and she waggles her brows in an extremely Lou-ish gesture. “Shall I direct you to the guest bedroom instead?”

If God could choosethissingle moment to smite me, I might thank him. As he does not, however, I am forced to step in front of Michal and pretend this is a perfectly normal situation I’ve created. Fixing a bright smile on my face, I clench my hands in my skirt. “My apologies, madame. I do not know what came over me—”

Mathilde cackles. “I do.”

With a heavy sigh, Michal says, “We need information, Mathilde, and if you give it to us, we’ll make it worth your while.”

“If you’re talking of sexual favors, young man—”

“I amtalking,” he says, “of transferring ownership of this house in exchange for counsel about the revenants—specifically, how to kill them.”

All humor I might’ve found in our situation shrivels to a knot in my chest.

Likewise, Mathilde’s smile vanishes just as quickly as it appeared. “I’m not telling you a damn thing.”

“Be reasonable, Mathilde. The revenants are becoming a problem, even for you. Those holes they’ve torn through the veil aren’t just making the forest weep—they’re making your house shake and your nose bleed. I assume they’re affecting your magic too.” He tosses the poker aside, and it lands atop hercreature comfortswith a muffled thud. She harrumphs again and crosses her arms. “If that isn’t enough, they’re also crawling through the streets of Cesarine in a blind rage. How long before they make their way to Chateau le Blanc? How long before they feast on your progeny?”

“My progeny are dumber than posts,” she says shortly. “They deserve anything they get from the revenants, and I won’t be lifting a finger to stop them.”

I blink at her, horrified. “Lou is one of the cleverest people I’ve ever known.”

Mathilde only sneers, turning to lean against the arm of the settee and staring irritably out the diamond-paned window. Her legs tremble only a little. “You can’t have known many people, then, can you, petal?”

A different sort of heat licks up my spine now, and a noise of outrage tears from my throat. Civility be damned. “You will not insult Louise le Blanc in front of me.”

“How convenient.” She jerks her chin over my shoulder. “There’s the door.”

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