“What book?” he asked. The woman’s gaze flicked to the dark-haired wife before her, the smiles easing off both their faces.
Mina thought back to the novel that had been placed beneath her candle.La Morte Amoureuse. The Dead Woman in Love. It hadn’t been a threat or a warning. It had been a clue to their true nature. The undead.
“Clarimonde.” The Count’s voice cut through the room, authoritative. He stood then, and emphasizing each word, said, “What. Book.”
The redhead, Clarimonde, was silent, and Mina could sense the fear coming off her. A tension had fallen across the room, thick and heavy. It seemed strange that the creature she’d encountered in the gallery could be afraid of anything or anyone.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Clarimonde said. “She came to the north wing. Clearly,she”—the wife gestured toward the hall,where Mina imagined Sofia must be waiting—“has not been doing her job.”
The Count’s eyes moved to Mina’s. “When was this?”
“Before the raid,” Mina said, fear and anger mingling as one within her. “I tried to tell you about it, after you insisted no men had stormed the castle.” Her voice lowered. “After you told me I’d imagined it all.”
He held her gaze, though she could not read his expression. “And where did you get the key?”
She furrowed her brows. “Key?”
“That door is locked,” he said, standing now. He looked toward Clarimonde, toward the other wives. “How did she possibly get in through a locked door?”
“It was Ligeia,” Clarimonde said, stress woven into her words.
“You little wench,” the raven-haired woman replied, standing from her seat. “I did no such thing.” Ligeia’s face shifted from anger to wide-eyed innocence as she moved toward the Count. “Darling,” she said, her eyes fixed on the Count.
Mina couldn’t help but notice a slight hesitation as the woman reached out, placing a hand on his chest. A strange feeling moved through Mina at the sight of another woman’s hand on her husband. But he wasn’t her husband, she supposed, he wastheirhusband.
Ligeia looked up at him, fluttering her lashes. “Do you truly believe Iwould be so careless?”
“For heaven’s sake,” Clarimonde hissed, taking a step forward. “You would do that and much worse. If you had been there when she stepped into those halls, she would be dead already.” She glared at Ligeia, then turned to the Count, her tone pleading. “I didn’t harm her. Even when she crept in like a thief, I didn’t lay a hand on her. You were lucky it was me and not this one. I could’ve confronted the girl, but I didn’t. I could’ve drained her dry—”
One moment, the Count was standing beside the couch, and in the next, he was across the room, holding the redhead by her throat, pinning her against the wall.
Mina gasped, standing.
“You could have what?” he asked, his voice in a deep whisper.
Panic spilled through Mina, and she looked to the others for some reaction, but they’d both stilled, their eyes fixed to the struggle playing out before them all.
Clarimonde coughed, clawing at his hands, kicking her feet toward the floor as she strained for breath.
The Count tilted his head, watching as the woman—as his wife—struggled. “Go on,” he said. “Say it. You could have what?”
“Stop,” Mina said, but her voice sounded weak to her own ears. She could hardly believe what she was seeing. This was a dream, this had to be a dream.
Clarimonde’s feet scraped against the wall behind her, but she could not gain her footing.
“Nothing,” the woman just barely choked out. “I said . . . nothing.”
Mina turned to the woman next to her, the fierceness from moments earlier gone from her gaze. “Will you truly not intervene?” Mina asked angrily.
Ligeia glanced at her, a flicker of something behind her eyes that Mina could not place. “She’ll be fine. It’s not as though he can kill her.”
Mina walked nearer, fear overpowered by anger at this display. Why was no one stopping him? Why were they allowing this to go on?
“Let her go,” Mina said firmly.
The Count looked over his shoulder at her, his pupils dilated, his eyes dark. Eyes still fixed to Mina, he dropped the woman, who fell to the floor, gasping for air and gagging, crawling on her hands and feet to get away from him.
The blonde moved quickly, lifting Clarimonde by her arm and bringing her toward the desk. Mina looked over and found Ligeia watching, not moving from her spot, but not looking pleased with herself for the first time.
