“Any sign?” I called to the constabulary.
“Not here, Captain!”
“Not here either!”
“None, sir!”
I bit back an impatient growl. Finally—after what seemed an eternity—Jean Luc hoisted himself over the rooftop after her. Three of my brethren followed. I waited. And waited.
And waited.
Davide shouted behind me, and I whirled to see the bound thief halfway to the road. He’d somehow worked the ropes from his feet. Though the constables sprinted toward him, they’d spread themselves too far across the yard on my orders. Biting back a curse, I leapt after him, but Jean Luc’s shout made me falter.
“She’s not here!” He appeared back at the roofline, chest heaving. Even from a distance, I could see the anger in his eyes. It matched my own. “She’s gone!”
With a snarl of frustration, I scanned the street for the man.
But he too had disappeared.
Angelica’s Ring
Lou
I could still hear the Chasseurs as I sprinted down the street, staring at the place where my feet—and my legs and my body—should’ve been. They couldn’t understand where I’d gone. I hardly understood it myself.
One second, I’d been trapped on the roof, and the next, Angelica’s Ring had burned hot on my finger. Of course. In my panic, I’d forgotten what the ring could do. Without stopping to think, I’d slid the ring off my finger and stuck it in my mouth.
My body had vanished.
Climbing up the townhouse with an audience and two broken fingers had been difficult. Climbing down with an audience, two broken fingers, and a ring clenched between my teeth—invisible—had been almost impossible. Twice I’d almost swallowed the thing, and once I’d been certain a Chasseur heard me when I torqued my broken fingers.
Still, I’d done it.
If the Chasseurs hadn’t thought I was a witch before—if by some miracle, the guards hadn’t squealed—they certainly suspected it now. I’d need to be careful. The copper-haired Chass knew my face, and thanks to Bas’s idiocy, he also knew my name. He would search for me.
Others far more dangerous might hear and begin searching for me too.
When I was far enough away to feel relatively safe, I spat the ring from my mouth. My body immediately reappeared as I slid it back on my finger.
“Neat trick,” Coco mused.
I whirled at the sound of her voice. She leaned against the dirty brick of the alleyway, eyebrow arched, and nodded to the ring. “I see you found Tremblay’s vault.” When I glanced toward the street, hesitating, she laughed. “Don’t worry. Our muscled blue friends are currently tearing Tremblay’s townhouse apart brick by brick. They’re far too busy looking for you to actually find you.”
I chuckled but stopped quickly, looking back at the ring with awe. “I can’t believe we actually found it. The witches would riot if they knew I had it.”
Coco followed my gaze, brows furrowing slightly. “I know what the ring can do, but you’ve never told me why your kin revere it. Surely there are other objects more—I don’t know—powerful?”
“This is Angelica’s Ring.”
She stared at me blankly.
“You’re a witch.” I returned her befuddled stare. “You haven’t heard the story of Angelica?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m a red, in case you’d forgotten. Forgive me for not learning your cultic superstitions. Was she a relative of yours or something?”
“Well, yes,” I said impatiently. “But that’s not the point. She was really just a lonely witch who fell in love with a knight.”
“Sounds dashing.”
“He was. He gave her this ring as a promise of marriage . . . then he died. Angelica was so devastated that her tears flooded the land and created a new sea. L’Eau Mélancolique, they called it.”
“The Wistful Waters.” Coco lifted my hand, scorn giving way to grudging admiration as she examined the ring. I slid it off my finger and held it out to her in my palm. She didn’t take it. “What a beautiful, terrible name.”
I nodded grimly. “It’s a beautiful, terrible place. When Angelica had cried all her tears, she threw the ring into the waters and herself after it. She drowned. When the ring resurfaced, it was infused with all sorts of magic—”
Raucous voices sounded from the street, and I stopped talking abruptly. A group of men passed by, singing a pub song loudly and off-key. We shrank farther into the shadows.
When their voices faded, I relaxed. “How did you escape?”
“Through a window.” At my expectant stare, she grinned. “The captain and his minions were too concerned with you to notice me.”
“Well, then.” I pursed my lips and leaned against the wall beside her. “I suppose you’re welcome. How did you manage to find me?”
She lifted her sleeve. A web of scars marred her arms and wrists, and a fresh cut down her forearm still oozed. A mark for every bit of magic she’d ever done. From the little Coco had taught me about Dames Rouges, I knew their blood was a powerful ingredient in most enchantments, but I didn’t understand it. Unlike Dames Blanches, they weren’t bound to any laws or rules. Their magic didn’t demand balance. It could be wild, unpredictable . . . and some of my kin even called it dangerous.
But I’d seen what the Dames Blanches themselves could do. Filthy hypocrites.
Coco arched a brow at my appraisal and rubbed some blood between her fingers. “Do you really want to know?”
“I think I can guess.” I sighed and slid down the wall to sit on the street, closing my eyes.
She joined me, her leg resting companionably against my own. After a few seconds of silence, she nudged me with her knee, and I forced an eye open. Hers were unnaturally serious. “The constabulary saw me, Lou.”
“What?” I lurched forward, eyes fully open now. “How?”
She shrugged. “I waited around to make sure you escaped. I was lucky it was the constabulary, really. They nearly pissed down their legs when they realized I was a witch. Made climbing out the window easier.”
Shit. My heart sank miserably. “Then the Chasseurs know too. They’re probably already looking for you. You need to get out of the city as soon as possible—tonight. Now. Send word to your aunt. She’ll find you.”
“They’ll be looking for you now too. Even if you hadn’t disappeared without a trace, they know you’ve consorted with a witch.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees, heedless of the blood on her arm. It smeared her skirt red. “What’s your plan?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. “I have Angelica’s Ring. It’ll have to do.”
“You need protection.” Sighing, she took my good hand in her own. “Come with me. My aunt will—”
“Kill me.”
“I won’t let her.” She shook her head fiercely, and the curls around her face bobbed. “You know how she feels about La Dame des Sorcières. She’d never help the Dames Blanches.”
I knew better than to argue, instead sighing heavily.
“Others might. It would only be a matter of time before one of your coven stabbed me in my sleep—or turned me over to her.”
Coco’s eyes flashed. “I’d tear out her throat.”
I smiled ruefully. “It’s my own throat I’m worried about.”
“So what then?” She dropped my hand and pushed to her feet. “You’re just going back to Soleil et Lune?”
“For now.” I shrugged as if unconcerned, but the movement felt too stiff to be convincing. “No one but Bas knows I live there, and he managed to escape.”
“I’ll stay with you.”
“No. I won’t let you burn for me.”
“Lou—”
“No.”
She huffed impatiently. “Fine. It’s your own neck. Just . . . let me mend your fingers, at least.”
“No more magic. Not tonight.”
“But—”
“Coco.” I stood and took her hand gently, tea
rs pricking my eyes. We both knew she was stalling. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a couple of broken fingers. Go. Take care of yourself.”
She sniffed, tipping her face back in a losing effort to contain her tears. “Only if you do.”
We hugged briefly, neither of us willing to say goodbye. Goodbyes were final, and we would see each other again someday. Though I didn’t know when or where, I would make sure of it.
Without another word, she released me and melted into the shadows.
I hadn’t even left the alley when two large figures stepped in my path. I cursed as they pushed me none too gently into the alley wall. Andre and Grue. Of course. Though I struggled against them, it was pointless. They outweighed me by several hundred pounds.
“How you doing, sweet thing?” Andre leered. He was shorter than Grue, with a long, narrow nose and far too many teeth. They crowded his mouth, yellow and chipped and uneven. Gagging at his breath, I leaned away, but Grue buried his nose in my hair.
“Mmm. You smell good, Lou Lou.” I smashed my head into his face in response. His nose crunched, and he staggered backward, swearing violently, before lunging for my throat. “You little bitch—”
I kicked his knee, simultaneously elbowing Andre in the gut. When his grip loosened, I darted toward the street, but he caught my cloak at the last second. My feet flew out from under me, and I landed on the cobblestones with a painful thud. He kicked me over to my stomach, pinning me there with a boot on my spine.
“Give us the ring, Lou.”
Though I twisted beneath him to upset his balance, he only pushed harder. Sharp pain radiated up my back. “I don’t have—” He reached down before I could finish, smashing my face into the ground. My nose cracked, and blood spurted sickeningly into my mouth. I choked on it, stars bursting in my eyes, and fought to remain conscious. “The constabulary busted us, you asshole!” An unpleasant realization dawned. “Was it you? Did you bastards snitch?”
Grue snarled and rose to his feet, still clutching his knee. His bulbous nose bled freely down his chin. Despite the blinding pain, vindictive pleasure stole through me. I knew better than to smirk, but it was hard—so hard—to restrain myself.
“I ain’t no snitch. Search her, Andre.”
“If you touch me again, I swear I’ll rip out your fucking eyes—”
“I don’t think you can issue threats, Lou Lou.” Andre yanked my hair back, extending my throat, and caressed my jaw with his knife. “And I think I’ll take my time searching you. Every nook and cranny. You could be hiding it anywhere.”
A memory surfaced with crystalline focus.
My throat over a basin. Everything white.
Then red.
I exploded beneath him in a blur of limbs and nails and teeth, clawing and biting and kicking every bit of him I could reach. He stumbled backward with a cry—his blade nicking my chin—but I didn’t feel the sting as I swept it aside. Didn’t feel anything—the breath in my lungs, the tremble of my hands, the tears on my face. I didn’t stop until my fingers found his eyes.
“Wait! Please!” He forced them closed, but I kept pressing, curling my knuckles beneath the lids and into the sockets. “I’m sorry! I—I believe you!”
“Stop!” Grue’s footsteps pounded behind me. “Stop, or I’ll—”
“If you touch me, I’ll blind him.”
His footsteps stopped abruptly, and I heard him swallow. “You— Just give us something for our silence, Lou. Something for our trouble. I know you pinched more than a ring from that knob.”
“I don’t have to give you anything.” Backing toward the street slowly, I kept one hand pressed firmly against Andre’s neck. The other remained lodged in his eyeball. With each step, sensation returned to my limbs. To my mind. My broken fingers screamed. I blinked rapidly, swallowing the bile in my throat. “Don’t follow me, or I’ll finish what I started here.”
Grue didn’t move. Andre actually whimpered.
When I reached the street, I didn’t hesitate. Shoving Andre toward Grue’s outstretched arms, I turned and fled to Soleil et Lune.
I didn’t stop to stanch the bleeding or set my fingers until I was safe in the theater’s rafters. Though I didn’t have any water to wash my face, I smeared the blood around a bit until most of it was on my dress instead of my skin. My fingers were already stiff, but I bit down on my cloak and set the bones anyway, using a piece of boning from a discarded corset as a splint.
Though exhausted, I couldn’t sleep. Every noise made me flinch, and the attic was too dark. A single, broken window—my only means of entry—let in the moonlight. I curled up beneath it and tried to ignore the throbbing in my face and hand. For a brief moment, I contemplated climbing to the roof. I’d spent many nights up there above the city, craving the stars on my cheeks and the wind in my hair.
But not tonight. The Chasseurs and constabulary were still searching for me. Worse, Coco was gone and Bas had abandoned me at the first sign of trouble. I closed my eyes in misery. What a rotten mess.
At least I’d procured the ring—and she hadn’t found me yet. This thought alone gave me enough comfort to eventually drift into an uneasy sleep.
Two Named Wrath and Envy
Reid
The clashes of swords filled the training yard. Late-morning sun bore down on us—chasing away the autumn chill—and sweat poured from my forehead. Unlike the other Chasseurs, I hadn’t discarded my shirt. It clung to my chest, wet fabric chafing my skin. Punishing me.
I’d let another witch escape, too distracted with the freckled thief to realize a demon had been waiting inside. Célie had been devastated. She hadn’t been able to look at me when her father finally steered her inside. Heat washed over me at the memory. Another failure.
Jean Luc had been the first to discard his shirt. We’d been sparring for hours, and his brown skin glistened with sweat. Welts covered his chest and arms—one for every time he’d opened his mouth. “Still thinking about your witches, Captain? Or perhaps Mademoiselle Tremblay?”
I smashed my wooden sword into his arm in response. Blocked his counterstrike and elbowed him in the stomach. Hard. Two more welts joined the others. I hoped they’d bruise.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Doubling over to clutch his stomach, he still managed to smirk up at me. I obviously hadn’t hit him hard enough. “I wouldn’t worry. Everyone will forget the townhouse fiasco soon.”
I clenched my sword until my knuckles turned white. A tic started in my jaw. It wouldn’t do to attack my oldest friend. Even if that friend was a miserable little—
“You did save the royal family, after all.” He straightened, still clutching his side, and grinned wider. “To be fair, you also humiliated yourself with that witch. I can’t say I understand it. Fatherhood isn’t particularly my taste—but the thief last night? Now she was a pretty little thing—”
I lunged forward, but he blocked my advance, laughing and punching my shoulder. “Peace, Reid. You know I jest.”
His jests had grown less funny since my promotion.
Jean Luc had arrived on the church’s doorstep when we were three. Every memory I had included him in some form or another. Ours had been a joint childhood. We’d shared the same bedroom. The same acquaintances. The same anger.
Our respect had also once been mutual. But that was before.
I stepped away, and he made a show of wiping my sweat on his pants. A few of our brethren laughed. They stopped abruptly at my expression. “Every jest holds truth.”
He inclined his head, still grinning. Pale green eyes missing nothing. “Perhaps . . . but does our Lord not command us to lay aside falsehood?” He didn’t pause for me to answer. He never did. “‘Speak truth, each one of you,’ he says, ‘for we are members of one another.’”
“I know the scripture.”
“Then why silence my truth?”
“You talk too much.”
He laughed harder, opening his mouth to dazzle us with his wit once more, but Ansel i
nterrupted, breathing heavily. Sweat matted his unruly hair, and blood flushed his cheeks. “Just because something can be said doesn’t mean it should. Besides,” he said, risking a glance at me. “Reid wasn’t the only one at the parade yesterday. Or the townhouse.”
I stared at the ground resolutely. Ansel should’ve known better than to intervene. Jean Luc surveyed the two of us with unabashed interest, sticking his sword in the ground and leaning against it. Running his fingers through his beard. “Yes, but he seems to be taking it particularly hard, doesn’t he?”
“Someone ought to.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them. I ground my teeth and turned away before I could do or say anything else I’d regret.
“Ah.” Jean Luc’s eyes lit up, and he straightened eagerly, sword and beard forgotten. “There’s the rub, isn’t it? You disappointed the Archbishop. Or was it Célie?”
One.
Two.
Three.
Ansel looked between us nervously. “We all did.”
“Perhaps.” Jean Luc’s smile vanished, and his sharp eyes glinted with an emotion I wouldn’t name. “Yet Reid alone is our captain. Reid alone enjoys the privileges of the title. Perhaps it is fair and just for Reid alone to bear the consequences.”
I threw my sword on the rack.
Four.
Five.
Six.
I forced a deep breath, willing the anger in my chest to dissipate. The muscle in my jaw still twitched.
Seven.
You are in control. The Archbishop’s voice drifted back to me from childhood. This anger cannot govern you, Reid. Breathe deeply. Count to ten. Master yourself.
I complied. Slowly, surely, the tension in my shoulders eased. The heat on my face cooled. My breath came easier. I clasped Jean Luc’s shoulder, and his smile faltered. “You’re right, Jean. It was my fault. I take full responsibility.”
Before he could respond, the Archbishop stepped into the training yard. His steely eyes found mine, and I immediately fisted my hand over my heart and bowed. The others followed.
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