The Archbishop had conceived a child with La Dame des Sorcières.
Though he was nowhere to be seen, his name filled the hall. My brothers kept their voices low, but I still heard them. Still saw their sidelong glances. Their suspicion. Their doubt.
Jean Luc elbowed Ansel aside to stand before me. “If you’re looking for your wife, she’s gone. I watched her dash through here not a quarter hour ago . . . crying.”
Crying.
“What happened upstairs, Reid?” He tilted his head to consider me, arching a brow. “Why would she flee? If she fears the witches, surely the Tower is the safest place for her.” He paused, and a truly frightening smile split his face. “Unless, of course, she now fears us more?”
I dropped my corpse on top of the pile of witches. Ignored the trepidation settling in my stomach like lead.
“I think your wife has a secret, Reid. And I think you know what it is.” Jean Luc inched closer, watching me with too-sharp eyes. “I think I know what it is.”
My trepidation dropped to outright panic, but I forced my face to remain calm. Blank. Void of all emotion. I wouldn’t tell them about Lou. They would hunt her. And the thought of their hands on her—touching her, hurting her, tying her body to the stake—I wouldn’t allow it.
I looked Jean Luc directly in the eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Where is she then?” He raised his voice and gestured around us, drawing the eyes of our brethren. My fingers curled into fists. “Why did the little witch flee?”
Red crept steadily into my vision, blurring those closest to us—those who had stilled, heads turning, at Jean Luc’s accusation. “Take care what you say next, Chasseur Toussaint.”
His smile faltered. “So it’s true, then.” He scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed heavily. “I didn’t want to believe it—but look at you. You would defend her still, even though you know she’s a—”
I lunged at him with a snarl. He attempted to dodge, but he wasn’t quick enough. My fist struck his jaw with an audible crack, breaking the bone. Ansel leapt forward before I could strike again. Despite him tugging on my arms, I barreled past him, barely feeling his weight. Jean Luc scrambled backward, screaming in pain and outrage, as I drew my fist once more.
“Enough,” the Archbishop said sharply from behind us.
I froze, fist cocked midair.
A few of my brethren bowed, fists to hearts, but most remained standing. Resolute. Wary. The Archbishop eyed them with growing fury, and a few more dropped their heads. Ansel released my arms and followed suit. To my surprise, so did Jean Luc—though his left hand remained pressed to his swelling jaw. He glared at the floor with murder in his eyes.
A tense second passed as they waited for me, their captain, to honor our forefather.
I didn’t.
The Archbishop’s eyes flashed at my insolence, but he hastened forward anyway. “Where is Louise?”
“Gone.”
Disbelief contorted his face. “What do you mean gone?”
I didn’t answer, and Ansel stepped forward in my stead. “She—she fled, Your Eminence. After this witch attacked her.” He gestured to the corpse on top of the pile of witches.
The Archbishop moved closer to inspect it. “You killed this witch, Captain Diggory?”
“No.” My fist throbbed from striking Jean Luc’s jaw. I welcomed the pain. “Lou did.”
He clasped my shoulder in a show of camaraderie for my brethren, but I heard the unspoken plea. Saw the vulnerability in his eyes. In that second, I knew. Any doubts I’d had vanished, replaced by a disgust deeper than any I’d ever known. This man—the man I’d looked to as a father—was a liar. A fraud. “We must find her, Reid.”
I stiffened and shrugged away. “No.”
His expression hardened, and he motioned one of my brothers forward. A mutilated corpse hung over his shoulder. Angry red burns riddled its face and neck, disappearing down the collar of its dress.
“I’ve had the pleasure of speaking with this creature for the past half hour. With a bit of persuasion, it became a plethora of information.” The Archbishop took the corpse and dumped it atop the pile. The bodies shifted, and blood seeped onto my boots. Bile rose in my throat. “You don’t know what the witches have planned for the kingdom, Captain Diggory. We cannot allow them to succeed.”
Jean Luc straightened, instantly alert. “What do they have planned?”