“I…I suppose we might try that.” She stood up on shaking legs, gripping the back of the sofa, fingers dug in deep.
I glanced about the room. It was full of flower vases, little golden statues of Dauphine’s beloved peacocks. Everything was too small, too delicate. I spotted a set of tools near the hearth and brightened.
The heft of the brass poker reassured me. Little lines of flowers wound their way to its pointed tip but I wouldn’t let their beauty be a distraction. I would use this weapon if I had to. To save myself. To save Alex.
I practiced swinging it through the air, feeling ridiculous with Marguerite’s eyes upon me.
“You look almost intimidating,” she said appraisingly. “I suppose it’s the best we have. Where is Alex? Exactly?”
“Upstairs, somewhere. I told him to come when he heard the lift. We won’t have time to come back this way for you. Head for the boat now. We’ll meet you there.”
She sighed, pained to be taking orders from one who so annoyed her. “Very well. Bring me one of those rods. If you’re going to leave me here to fend for myself, I too would like to be armed.”
I selected the dustpan for her. It was lighter than the poker, but its scoop would make an effective weapon if required.
She tested the weight and nodded approvingly.
Now armed, we made our way to the exit on tiptoe. I took a deep breath before turning the doorknob, certain Viktor would be lying in wait for us.
The hall was empty, seemingly deserted.
My frame trembled as I peeked out to check the corridor.
A chill of alarm prickled through me as I felt something grab hold of my collar and I nearly screamed, but it was Marguerite, her clawed fingers squeezing me.
“Take care of my grandson,” she said before pushing past me to make her way down the corridor.
I watched her turn a corner before I raced off in the opposite direction, heading for the atrium.
I could tell from the sharp curses and grunts of pain that I was already too late.
High above me, up on the balcony, Alex and Viktor struggled with each other, exchanging blows. Blood ran down Alex’s face from a cut at his temple and his nose looked broken, smashed beyond recognition. Viktor’s shirt had ripped and his movements were ungainly, as if one of his legs had been injured during their scuffle. Both sported fresh, swollen bruises and split knuckles. The unmistakable odor of singed hair and burnt flesh filled the air.
I wanted to cheer as I watched Alex ram into his brother’s side with his chair, knocking him off-kilter. Viktor’s hand reached up, pulling the chair over and tipping Alex free. The ceiling above me shook from the crash and bright embers drifted down to the marble floor.
“Alex!”
“The latch, Verity, get the latch!” he shouted before the sound of a fist striking flesh rang out and he groaned.
Stumbling toward the lift, I stepped on a piece of broken pottery and slipped. The atrium was littered with shards of shattered vases and strewn flowers, fallen over the balcony as the boys fought.
My teeth sank into the side of my tongue as I landed hard on the unfeeling stone floor and a burst of blood filled my mouth. Spitting it out, I crawled toward the lift, then ducked as a small wooden table smashed to the ground, inches from me. I flipped the latch and pulled the lever, preparing the lift for ascent. The steam sounded like a rumble of thunder as it worked through the pipes.
But before I could pull myself inside and hit the button to start it, I was wrenched backward and thrown across the floor.
“What happened— Marguerite?” I asked in disbelief, squinting as twin sets of her filled my vision. They moved together in unison, stepping forward and swinging the fireplace scoop high.
Stars clouded my mind as she struck me and I collapsed, writhing.
“You’re far more clever than I gave you credit for, little Thaumas girl,” she hissed, kicking at me with her pointed shoes.
I managed to roll over, protecting my middle, but she landed a hard strike against my spine. I groaned.
“Verity!” Alex howled, and from my vantage point on the floor, I saw him pulling himself up to peer over the balcony, looking down in horror as his grandmother attacked me. “Grandmère, you must stop. You must—”
He never finished what she must do because Viktor reached up and cracked his head against the railing. Alex fell out of sight as I screamed.
“Why are you doing this?” I cried, flipping to the side to avoid the brass dustpan. The quick movement caused my head to spin and for a moment, the world pitched black.
“He’s my grandson.”
“Alex, Alex is your grandson. Viktor’s a monster.”
Marguerite frowned, her lips downturned as if she was declining a second cup of afternoon tea. “Viktor was who I was promised. Alexander…” She shook her head. “Alexander is broken. Weak. Your union would have amounted to nothing. All of my son’s research would have been in vain.”
“You knew? You knew what Gerard was doing?” I wanted to sit up but a sharp pain hitched at my side. “Why didn’t you stop him?”
“Stop him?” She tittered. “I did everything in my power to help him.”
She raised the pan above her head and I was too dumbstruck to move in time. The brass scoop came down across my left shoulder. I curled into myself, clutching my injured arm to my chest.
“Do you think I would have ever bowed down to Arina after what my husband did? She could have stopped it, she could have let my daughter be born flawless and whole, but instead she went to the opera that week. She dined at the best restaurants, surrounded by her court of chevaliers, and do you think she spared one single thought for Emilee? For me? My years of devotion meant nothing to her. Everything we do for them—the prayers and festivals, the sacrifices and offerings. They mean nothing.”
Marguerite shook with indignation.
“When Viktor Laurent was born, I rejoiced. We were one step closer to bringing them all down. But for all his brilliance, my son failed. He was scared, frightened by the power he’d created. He threw in his lot with the runt of the litter and told himself it was better that way. But I knew…I knew.”
The clamor on the balcony rose and I couldn’t make out who was shouting, who was groaning. More debris went sailing over the edge. I prayed something would strike Marguerite but she ducked away, moving easily.
“The day Gerard told me he’d found the right partner for Alexander, a girl who would truly help herald in the new golden age, I knew I needed to act and act quickly.” She pressed her thin lips together. “That first dinner at Chauntilalie, I could see you were special. I knew you were meant for Viktor… I never went to the family flat in Bloem. I headed instead to Marchioly House.”
“You helped them escape,” I said, seeing everything clearly.
She nodded. “No one ever suspected it was me. I set the fire. I found the boys and I brought them here.” She let out a sigh. “It’s a shame my son will never see the fruits of his labors.” She shrugged. “I suppose it’s a blessing the family crypt is so large. So let this, let all of this”—she pointed to the chaos upstairs—“play out, Thaumas girl. And when it’s over, you and Viktor will be together. And the real work can begin.”