Have I learned nothing from the past? Am I that weak?
Audrey rubs her hands together, her eyes on the vegetables spread out over the worktop. “Let me guess—dinner is ratatouille!”
“Correct,” Henri says, his voice coarser than normal. He has his back to Audrey and is rinsing his hands in the sink.
What he’s really doing is giving his hard-on a moment to deflate.
“Any word from Dana?” Audrey asks me.
I shake my head.
She looks around. “Where’s Odile?”
I tell her about Quentin’s misadventure, and that it’s up to us now to cook our dinner.
She rolls up the sleeves of her shirt. “Sergeant Zanata at your disposal, Your Highness! I can rinse, peel, seed—any kitchen duty. Just tell me what you need me to do.”
She’s new both to being my bodyguard and to the palace life, or she wouldn’t be assuming I can cook.
With a smile, I point at Henri. “He’s the boss here.”
The next hour is a blur of chopping, stirring, and the occasional good-natured banter. We avoid talking about the search for the key that’s still underway, all too aware that no news from Dana is bad news. Henri moves around the kitchen, orchestrating the cooking process with a competence that I find impressive.
And infuriatingly sexy.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I’m in a shitty mood as I dress to go down to breakfast. At one in the morning, Dana put a lid on the search. After her team finished scouring the attic and found nothing, they gave the entire house a second pass. It was just as unsuccessful as the first.
In the four days they’d spent at Château de Bellay, they’d searched every square inch of the house and the estate. If the key were here, they would’ve found it. Exhausted and defeated, Dana and her agents packed up, leaving me some of their equipment and wishing me better luck than they’d had before they drove off to their hotel.
Soon afterward, I went to bed, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. I didn’t sleep well, besieged by desperation. What hope do I have of succeeding where a team of specialized agents failed? Now that we know, thanks to Darrel, that the prophecy doesn’t guarantee the outcome of each individual quest, am I going to be the first key seeker to go home empty-handed?
Dragging myself from my bed this morning was a feat of willpower. I feel wretched. Just the thought that I’ll have to smileand socialize with a group of people I haven’t met before fills me with dread.
After I step out of the shower and wrap a bath towel around my head, my phone buzzes to life. It’s Mother.
“Gigi, darling, how are you holding up?” she asks.
Her concern tells me she’s been briefed.
“I’m all right,” I reply sitting down at the dressing table.
“That’s not what I hear in your voice.”
“I’m just a little disappointed, that’s all.”
“You shouldn’t be,” she argues. “There’s a reason I sawyouas our next key seeker in my vision, and not Dana. To tell you the truth, I didn’t expect the search team to find anything.”
She makes a fair point, but I’m too unsettled to be persuaded by the voice of reason.
Honest, bitter words fall over each other on the tip of my tongue, and there’s no holding them back. “I’m doomed to fail, Mother! I have no leads, no idea where else to look, given that Dana’s team have turned the estate inside out.”
“The key doesn’t have to be on the estate. It can be anywhere, really.”
“Even worse!” I groan. “How do I find it? What questions should I ask Henri to help him help me? He’s positive he’s never heard any family lore about a key.” I puff in frustration. “I feel so inadequate for the task you gave me!”
“Destiny gave you that task, darling, not me,” she points out, her tone soothing. “Your job is to get Henri to lead you to it.”
