‘The Baron looked us over with papercut eyes. His lip curled.
‘“Well, then. I suppose you’d best come in.”’
III
TROUBLE OF A DIFFERENT FLAVOUR
‘THE GREAT KEEP of the Baron de Coste was filled to the brim, his peacocks and hens all on parade. Knights in green tabards and lordly finery, feathered caps and velvet crushed. Dames and demoiselles with lead-pale faces and cheeks rouged with blood, swathed in yards of old damask and chiffon and crêpe. And then, there was us.
‘The Baron had graciously loaned a change of wardrobe, but he’d outfitted Greyhand, Talon, and me as servants rather than guests. I wore a simple black doublet and tight, pale hose, my hair tied in a long plait. The only weapons I could conceal beneath were my silversteel dagger and two silverbombs.
‘Greyhand was posing as a footman, watching guests as they arrived at the Baron’s door, and Archer soared the skies above, the falcon ever assisting his master. Seraph Talon was dressed as one of the house gens d’armes, patrolling within the keep should Luncóit seek entrance in secret. Aaron was attired as gentry, of course, arm in arm with his mother. And I was right there in the ballroom with him, serving fucking drinks.
‘I watched the pair as they swept around the room, my eyes lingering on the Baronne de Coste. She clearly doted on her son, despite Aaron’s being the offspring of her violation. Watching her, I thought of my own mama. And of my father.
‘Who was she to him? Lover or victim?
‘And in the end, what did that make me?
‘The smoke of rêvre and whitepoppy hung in the air, entwined with the perfume of gilded ladies. Minstrel song mingled with the tune of gold-dipped fingers on crystal, of cruel laughter and cutting jabs. Wine was as rare as spun gold so long after daysdeath, and yet it flowed like water. I felt I swam in a bloody river, surrounded by hungry reptiles.
‘But of Marianne Luncóit, there was no sign.
‘“Terribly tedious, don’t you think?”
‘I blinked at the smoky voice, turned to find a pretty demoiselle regarding me with bored expression. She wore green silk, her corset pulling her curves into a perfect hourglass. Her long hair was the gold of autumn leaves, her eyes blue as old skies.
‘“What’s tedious, mademoiselle?”
‘“All this.” The girl waved about us. “The same old people having the same old conversations. It’s just the same as it was last year. And the year before.” She watched me through long dark lashes. “Except for you, of course.”
‘I proffered my tray. “May I offer you a drink, mademoiselle?”
‘The girl took a glass, but raised one brow. “Come now. You’re no more a servant than I. You arrived with Aaron and those others earlier today. The sour-faced man, and the thin one with the oily moustache. Who are you?”
‘I was wondering the same of her, but turned my eyes to the floorboards as a good servant might. “Nobody of consequence, mademoiselle.”
‘“Hmm.” She sniffed. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
‘With one more glance for me, the young lady turned on polished heels and drifted into the throng. I shook my head, eyes returning to the crowd. Baron de Coste’s ballroom was full of folk like that, all of the cut and colour I’d expected – the blushing ingénue, the handsome rake. The drunken lord and the smiling snake. My hand drifted to an inner pocket of my doublet, right over my heart, to the saintsday gift folded there. The portrait Astrid had drawn me. I was surrounded by beauties in old velvet and satin, corsets of whalebone and necklets of gold. And the only girl I found myself thinking of wore simple novice white.
‘I missed her.
‘The feast was done, the revels begun, couples sweeping about the dancefloor to beautiful song. The Baron de Coste sat among his lords, barks of laughter cutting the air like rusty knives. Hours had passed and still, not a hint of our quarry. But now, looking across the room, I realized I might have trouble of a different flavour.
‘The Baronne de Coste stood among a bouquet of highborn dames holding court. Aaron had found his way free of his mother’s side, and was now sitting at a round table, surrounded by beautiful young women. They flocked to him, silken and smiling, spellbound by the return of the handsome golden-haired lordling. But looking at the flush in his cheeks as he downed another goblet, there was no doubt about it.
‘De Coste was getting shitfaced.
‘I couldn’t fucking believe it. Here and now? Spitting a soft curse, I walked across the dancefloor to hover beside his table, silent and glowering.
‘“Ah, splendid.” One of the demoiselles raided my tray, taking all the remaining drinks and nodding towards the kitchens. “Fetch more, gar?on. And be swift about it.”
‘De Coste looked up at me and smiled. “You heard Mlle Monique, Peasant.”
‘I’d half a mind to drag the spoiled shit someplace private and kick some sense into him. But for all the apparent futility of it, we were still at Hunt. And so, instead of making a scene, I gave the silken gathering my best courtly bow – which isn’t all that courtly, mind – and my best crooked smile, which I’m assured is crooked as an Ossian tax collector.
‘“Pardon, mesdemoiselles. But I have a message for Lord de Coste from the Baron.”
‘The ladies looked to Aaron in question, and after a dramatic roll of his baby blues, the lordling begged leave and sent them away. I waited ’til the flock was out of earshot, then sat beside him, a polite smile painted on my face as I spat like I’d a mouthful of piss.
‘“Have you taken leave of your fucking senses?”
‘Aaron gulped another mouthful. “What troubles, frailblood?”
‘“We’re at Hunt, and you’re so sodden you can barely stand!”
‘“The hour grows late, and still no sign of Luncóit. Methinks the viper smelled the hounds on her tail. So, oui, I’m having a fucking drink.” Aaron’s eyes roamed the revellers about us, then sidelong to me. “You look ridiculous in those stockings, by the way.”
‘“Sweet of you to notice, shitheel.”
‘His sneer widened. “If it’s of comfort, my cousin noticed too.”
‘I followed Aaron’s eyeline, noting a clutch of pretty young femmes watching me over their fluttering fans. Among them, I saw that autumn-haired girl again, gazing at me with careful blue eyes. Looking about the room, I saw others staring at us too – the predator in our blood ever drawing attentions towards us. These folk knew not what we were, but something in their hearts told us we were not their kind.
‘“Véronique has been gawping at your shapely calves all evening.” Aaron raised his goblet, and the autumn-haired girl raised hers in kind, smiling sweet. “Expect a proposition when her father gets too drunk to notice. I adore the little bitch. Famille is famille. But her sort do so enjoy tumbling with the help.”
‘“Her sort?”
‘“Poor little rich girl.” Aaron sighed and glanced about. “All of them. Such clichés.”
‘I gritted my teeth as de Coste finished his wine, eyes on his stepfather. The Baron de Coste was regaling his lords with a bawdy tale, and the noblemen roared with laughter on cue, like trained pups. Aaron shook his head in disgust.