‘I could see faint light ahead. My unease growing along with the bloodscent. And rounding a shelf of bleached and silent secrets, I found the strangest sight I’d yet seen in the Library.
‘“God Almighty …” I whispered.
‘A table of stout oak, piled with books and surrounded by leather chairs, lit by a single candle. A girl in the pale vestments of a sisternovice was slumped flat upon the table, long dark hair over her face, blood puddled thick around her cheek.
‘Sweet Mothermaid, it smelled like heaven’s perfume …
‘It looked like someone had struck the girl while she sat there reading, cracking her skull. I crept forward, heart thumping. And as I reached out to move her hair in search of a wound, the girl opened her eyes, looked right at me, and fucking screamed.
‘I yelped and leapt backwards. She reared up from the table, face slick with blood, lifting the candlestick to brain me. And looking about with wide, dark eyes, she pressed one pale hand to her heart and whispered in a crisp, highborn accent.
‘“Oh, you cunting bastard …”
‘“… I beg your pardon?”
‘The girl dragged a shaking hand through her long dark hair and sighed. “Beg all you wish, boy. You almost gave me a fucking heart seizure.”
‘“… You’re the sisternovice who inked my aegis,” I realized. “The one I saw getting whipped in the stables.”
‘“And you’re the peasant who took my horse.”
‘“I’m no peasant,” I scowled. “I’m an initiate of the Silver Order.”
‘“Those are hardly mutually exclusive properties.”
‘“Are you aright?”
‘She shrugged. “Just resting my eyes, if that’s any of your concern.”
‘“Facedown in a pool of blood?”
‘The sisternovice blinked then, realizing her face was sticky red, yet more blood pooled on the table in front of her. “Oh, fuck it all,” she snarled, reaching into her vestments for a bloodstained kerchief. “Apologies. It looks rather more dramatic than it is.”
‘I stared at the blood on her lips, pulse drumming in my temples. This was the first time I’d been alone with a girl since I’d almost killed Ilsa. Remembering the sensation of that warm red rushing into my mouth as she writhed and sighed …
‘“I thought your skull was broken,” I managed.
‘“It’s my nose,” she replied, swabbing her face. “It bleeds a great deal lately. I suspect it’s something to do with the altitude in this godforsaken pigsty.”
‘My mind was awash. I wondered what in the Sevens’ names this girl was doing there. Alone, after dark, against the rules. But more, and despite the blood – or likely because of it – I couldn’t help noticing how beautiful she was. Skin like milk. Beauty spot beside the gentle bow of her bloody lips. She had the eyes of a dark angel.’ Gabriel smiled. ‘And the mouth of a she-devil on the rag.
‘“I’ve seen you about,” she declared with a toss of her hair. “And though I’ve stabbed you repeatedly, we’ve not been formally introduced. My name is Astrid Rennier.”
‘“Gabriel de León,” I replied, still more than a little flustered.
‘“Oui. De León.” Dark eyes roamed me, toe to crown. “You don’t look much of a lion. Then again, you are out of bed after evebells. Which means you’ve more courage than the rest of these boorish little boys.”
‘Ever so slowly, she extended her hand.
‘“I think we shall get along famously.”
‘I blinked at her hand as if it were a serpent coiled to strike. This girl had seen me half-naked, after all, touched me in places few others had. The scent of her blood was stirring that memory now, and my own blood besides. But she was a novice of the Silver Sorority, soon to be wedded to God. I was an initiate of the Silver Order, servant of that same Heavenly Father. I shouldn’t even have been talking to her, let alone …
‘“Courtly manners dictate a gentleman kiss a lady’s hand when he meets her,” Astrid said helpfully, wriggling her fingers.
‘“Suppose I don’t want to kiss it.”
‘“Then I suppose you’re the ill-mannered peasant I first took you for.”
‘She gifted me an ingénue’s smile, but I saw the trap she’d laid: Obey her command or be rude. Problem was, I wanted to do neither. Holy vows and godly laws aside, this girl reminded me of Aaron de Coste and the other initiates who made my life such a misery, with their lordly accents and upturned noses. Beautiful as she was, incredible as she smelled, Astrid Rennier struck me as something of a bitch.
‘Still, she’d done an artful job with the ink on my chest. And Mama had raised me to always treat girls the way I’d want them to treat me. There are three ways men view the women of the world, Gabriel. Enemies to be overcome. Prizes to be won. Or as people. My advice is choose the latter, my love. Lest they begin considering you the former.
‘And so, I took Astrid Rennier’s hand.
‘Her skin was wondrous warm after the chill outside. I could smell the scent on her hair – rosewater and silverbell mixed with the dizzying perfume of her blood. I suppressed a shiver at the memory of her touch upon my bare chest, the pain of her needles in my skin. And supposing a chaste kiss couldn’t anger God too much, I brushed my lips across her knuckles, trying to sound courtly.
‘“Enchanted, mademoiselle.”
‘“Not yet,” she promised.
‘“What are you doing in here?”
‘“I could ask the same of you, good Frère.”
‘“I’m not a brother of the Order yet. My proper title is Initiate.”
‘“Oh, is that what we’re being now?” She raised one dark eyebrow. “Proper?”
‘I peered at the books Astrid was reading. Most were written in languages I’d no ken of, but the ones I could comprehend seemed a strange mix. The pages were covered in mad scrawls, filled with strange geometrical shapes and arcane symbols. I ran my finger along one of the pale spines, murmuring aloud.
‘“A Full and Complete Accounte of that Peril Which Godly Men Did Name the Aavsenct Heresy, Told in Seven Partes, This Being Parte the Thirde.”
‘“Not a very creative title, is it?”
‘“Of Astrological Portents and Prognostications Dire – A Complete Historie.”
‘“Look, do you fucking mind?” Astrid said, covering the books protectively.
‘“What are you reading about in here? And why at night?”
‘“What business is that of yours?”
‘“None at all. Which I suppose is my favourite kind.”
‘She smiled a little at that. “Still. Why would I share mine with you?”
‘“We’re both breaking the rules here.” I shrugged. “Honour among thieves?”
‘“I’m no thief, Gabriel de León. But if you must know, I am reading at night because Archivist Adamo won’t permit sisternovices into the forbidden section during the day. Even if I were a full-fledged sister, I’m still possessed of a pair of breasts, which disqualifies you from all sorts of things around here. And I am wading through this collection of horseshit, pig spunk, and lunatic nonsense in an attempt to get to the bottom of daysdeath.” She blew a dark lock of hair out of her eyes. “Satisfactory?”