That’s when I realize something that sets my heart racing, thudding, hammering, rioting.
Not only do I see her, but I…seeher.
As silent as I can, I step closer. Closer. Daring my eyes to tell me I’m mistaken. They don’t.
Her every feature is clear, from her giddy expression to her short, blue-black hair. I study her raven strands, the cut that falls just above her nape, the wave of fringe swept off to one side of her forehead. She’s dressed in the outfit I picked out for her this morning at Department Envy, and for once I’m able to take in more than just her posture. I see the way her blouse is left unbuttoned at her neck, the way sweat beads at the hollow of her clavicle, the slight swell of her bosom, the taper of her waist—
Her face swings toward mine. Like a door slamming shut, my view of her shifts into a sudden blur. My eyes return to her face, but the sight of it is no longer clear. I frown at her, trying to see beyond the haze while also committing what I just glimpsed to memory. It feels tenuous, as if any moment it will slip away. I suppose that isn’t important. What matters is that, however briefly, Isawher.
What doesn’t matter is that she’s absolutely and undeniably lovely.
She backs up a step, her posture suddenly stiff. “I didn’t run away.”
I rouse myself from my thoughts and feign gruff nonchalance. Taking a few steps closer, I say, “It doesn’t look that way to me.”
She lifts her chin, tone laced with defiance. “I didn’t know when you’d be back, and I wasn’t about to be trapped in that stuffy room all day. Madame Desire doesn’t like when guests stay past daybreak anyway.”
“I doubt she’ll mind what we do as guests. I purchased the room for an entire week.” My lips lift into a grin I know will send her bristling. “Same goes for you.”
She furrows her brow. “Same goes for…” Her words dissolve into a scoff. “Youpurchasedme?”
“I paid for your company,” I clarify. She opens her mouth to argue, but I speak first. “It’s essential that I keep you close, especially at night. The thief clearly prefers to work under the cover of darkness, and I’ll not have you endangered.”
“I’d be flattered if I didn’t know all you cared about is fulfilling your bargain.”
“Don’t bother feeling flattered at all. And if you don’t want to return to the cuff, then I suggest making no argument about our sleeping arrangements.”
She nuzzles the kitten again, who had begun to wiggle out of her grasp, and sets the mewling animal down. She dips into a crouch and allows all four kittens to climb up her skirts. The mother cat feasts on a plate of herring. “I’m being perfectly compliant, am I not? I didn’t run away, and your note never stated I couldn’t leave our room. I had important things to do.”
I huff a laugh and tilt my head at the kittens. “Thisis important?”
“Yes, Huntsman. This among other things. I do have a job, you know.”
Right. Astrid Snow is a matchmaker and not a courtesan like I originally thought. “Isn’t proving your innocence a little more pressing than pairing up husbands and wives?”
She smiles wide. It’s a grin I wish I could clearly see. What color were her lips? Ruby? No, coral. Even as I try to recall them, the memory dissolves like mist.
But what the blooming hell am I doing trying to remember her lips in the first place?
Gathering another kitten in her arms, a gray one this time, she stands and bounces on the balls of her feet. “Do you mean it? You’re going to help me find the real killer? And I’m going to help you do it?”
I clench my jaw, cursing myself for having stated something that sounded so optimistic. There’s a chance this could fail. That she’s lying to my face. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s deception has evaded my detection. “I’m going to find out who stole my Chariot and get it back, and you are going to come with me. You made a decent point last night when you said I might come across clues that mean more to you than to me. If someone is only using me to get to you, then we need to work together.”
“Someone,” she says, arching a brow, “like my stepmother.”
“I will not entertain such a possibility until we’ve gathered more proof.” A pit of dread forms in my stomach as I say it. Astrid made a few good points last night, ones that are almost too daunting to consider. While I strongly doubt Queen Tris had such sinister motives when she put me on the case, I can’t ignore the possibility that she too is capable of deceiving me. If she truly hates her stepdaughter as much as Astrid thinks she does, then I suppose the queen could have tried to poison her. And if the poison killed the man she loved instead of her intended victim, then it makes sense she’d want revenge on Astrid at all costs, and to silence her before proof of her own guilt gets out.
The thing that doesn’t make sense, though, is that the poisoner used Crimson Malus. Tris should have known better than to use it on someone with fae blood.
“We’ll see justice served soon enough, Abernathy,” she says to the gray kitten. Her voice is so light, so gleeful, I can’t help but wonder how much of her tincture she’s had today. I recall how slowly her wounds healed last night, despite her use of a poison renowned for its healing. Does she have no clue what’s happening to her? What she’s doing to herself? I suppose I wouldn’t either if I hadn’t already seen it happen firsthand.
But I have.
I shake my head. None of that matters right now.
“Are you done?” I ask, giving the kitten in her arms a pointed look.
“Hardly,” she says. “Mama Cat hasn’t finished her meal and I’ve only snuggled two kittens.”
