Page 100 of The False Vow

She regarded me for a moment, saying nothing. My cheeks warmed. She was right; I had spoken up for her to Manon, and I had no idea how to justify the fact. I felt suddenly exposed standing before her—as if she’d dug out some hidden vulnerability, a book of poetry I’d stashed away, and presented it to me.

As if sensing her opportunity, Anais leaned forward. “So,” she started again. “You haven’t slept with either of them, but you must have done something, yes?” Her eyes gleamed. “Tell me.”

Her prodding brought me back. At her question, memories of last night emerged; hurriedly, I locked them down. “Anais, no.”

The other silkwitch pouted. “Fine. Though, for what it’s worth, I favor Noé.”

“I do not care who you favor.” I did, and I wanted to know more. Damn her for making me discuss this.

Falling silent, I picked at my thumbnail. Clearly, Anais had taken it upon herself to keep me company until the rest of my bridesmaids arrived, whether I desired her presence or not. But perhaps I could at least turn our conversation toward more useful subjects.

I straightened. “I’d like to know more about the noise you heard during the Midway Ball, while you were with Dorian,” I started. “You said there was the sound of a door opening, but no one ever entered the room to interrupt you. Am I correct?”

“Sisters’ sake.” Anais threw up her hands. “Are you carved of stone? Is this all you talk about with your friends—strange noises and past scandals?”

I blushed, taken aback by her frustration. “I don’t have friends.”

The other silkwitch made a disapproving noise. “You’re extraordinarily untalented at making them, it is true,” she grouched. “You’re fortunate that all my social circles cast me out after the Vainglory. Otherwise, I’d never have been reduced to trying with you.”

Sitting forward in her armchair, she placed her hands in her lap.

“It seems as though I must be forced to lead by example,” she said. “I’ll start.” She fixed me with a meaningful look. “I lied to you about my engagement with Adélard.”

I perked up, intrigued.

Twisting at her engagement ring, Anais grimaced. “I told you that he proposed to me, yes? As a counteractive measure, to patch up the Drake reputation after what his nephew did? No.” She shook her head, the motion sharp—brittle. “No, Bastian Alaire came to me. He arranged our union. He knew about…” She stopped; her eyes darted briefly to mine. “About Dorian, naturally, and our affair. I was given a choice: Marry Adélard and keep quiet about all that passed between his nephew and me during the Vainglory, or leave for the cloisters that night.”

She glanced down at the toes of her slippers, then lifted her head, evidently waiting for me to dispense my own confession.

My mind buzzed. “Why would Bastian intercede on the Drakes’ behalf?”

Anais frowned. “I told you,” she replied, annoyed. “He didn’t want me spreading stories about Dorian. He said he’d invested considerably in his future and didn’t want to see him fall further than he already had.”

It sounded a rather weak excuse to me. Whatever gossip the silkwitch might or might not have spread to the papers regarding her affair with Dorian, there had been plenty of rumors circulating the scandal sheets after the Vainglory. Not to mention, arranging a marriage seemed…extreme. How had Bastian convinced Adélard to agree to such a scheme?

But I could tell Anais had given me all she would on the subject. “So he offered you two paths forward,” I confirmed. “And you chose Adélard.”

Anais winced, then nodded. “Two years ago, my father began to suspect that there was something deeper than friendship between Manon and me. He never found proof—we were far too careful for that—but he took me to visit the cloisters nonetheless. A precaution, to show me what would happen if I refused to marry a Weaver.” She paused. “The girls there…Adélard makes them wear Woven lockets, enchanted to encourage obedience. Whatever he commands, they do, regardless of whether they wish to or not.” Her throat bobbed. “You can’t imagine the dread I felt when I first saw them. You don’t need to look them in the eyes to know how miserable they are. I knew then that I would do anything to keep myself from sharing their fate.”

My heart tugged. “Anais.” I crossed to her, laying my hand on hers. Her cheeks were wet—when she had begun to cry, I was not certain. “Don’t marry Adélard.”

Her expression darkened. She pulled her arm away. “Did you hear nothing—”

“He’s lying to you.” I grabbed her wrist before she could retreat too far, forcing her to look at me. “All the Weavers are lying to you.”

Our stares locked. Anais’s gaze was uneasy; I could tell I had her attention, but nothing beyond that. My heart pounded. Gathering my confidence, I prepared myself to speak—

A rapping on my door cut me off. “Miss Cecilia.” It was Mia’s voice—meek and sweet. “More guests are arriving.”

The other silkwitches. Damn. I looked back at Anais, my pulse still racing away in my chest. “When is your wedding?”

It took a moment for her vision to un-fog. “A month from now.”

A month. I felt a surge of relief. We had time. “After Noé and I are married, come to me, and we will talk,” I said, releasing my grip on her wrist. “As friends.”

The word felt overlong and strange, in my mouth. Even so, Anais smiled.

“All right,” she agreed. “As friends.”