Page 26 of The False Vow

We rode in silence for nearly a quarter of an hour before Noé spoke. “I noticed you speaking with Anais earlier.”

I glanced at him sidelong. My fiancé was sprawled on the opposite side of the carriage, his back against the wall, one leg pulled up on the bench and the other dangling loosely toward the floor. In his left hand, he held a drink, which he’d taken from the Winn residence without asking and had been sipping on for the duration of our drive.

Observing him, my lip curled. “She approached me.”

“And?” He shifted his legs. “Did you ask about her missing gloves?”

“I didn’t have time. Eliot…”

My voice cut out. I was not sure what I’d been going to say.

Noé cleared his throat. “He was hard on you, out there.”

The change in subject made my skin grow cold. Looking away, I replied, “I betrayed him.”

Noé hummed. “Did he not do the same to you during the Vainglory, with Sybil?”

My neck reddened. I hadn’t expected him to bring up Sybil. “Did you not do worse than both of us, when you courted his sister and hid the truth of her death?”

“Of course I did worse.” Noé shrugged, unbothered. He took another swallow of his drink, grimacing at the coach wall. “I always do worse. It is the most basic precept of Eliot’s and my friendship.”

Coolly, his chin lolled my way.

“I’m only saying, he’s a hypocrite.”

I glared at him. “I am not interested in hearing anything you have to say.” Our gazes met for only a second before I ripped mine away, facing back toward the window. “Don’t cut in for me next time. I can fight my own battles.”

His laugh stung me—low and sardonic, as if he were amused. “All right. I won’t.”

“Wonderful.” In emphasis, I took my ring off and placed it on the seat beside me, aware of his eyes tracking me all the while. The agate glinted in the moonlight; when I looked up at him challengingly, he glanced away.

We did not speak for the rest of the trip home.

Chapter Eleven

When morning came, a knock drew me from my slumber.

My vision still bleary, I rose and crossed to my door. I’d slept fitfully, memories of my conversation with Noé scratching at my head. All through the night’s quiet, I’d recalled the low hum of his voice, beating in realities I wished to avoid acknowledging. He was hard on you, out there.

It was true, I knew that. Eliot had been harsh during our talk—harsher than I’d realized he could be. Yet more than anything else about our argument, what I hated the most was that my fiancé had witnessed it.

I paused as I neared my door. In my distracted state, I’d forgotten to cover my standing mirror before taking to my bed last night, and now a flicker of movement within it caught my attention. A figure. They were standing by my window—thrown open in the mirror’s reflection, though a quick glance assured me that the version in my room was closed. Their face was obscured by the billowing curtains. As I watched, they turned their head slowly toward me, the motion like a bride shifting beneath her veil.

Marie-Louise?

My breath caught. I stepped closer to the looking glass just as another burst of knocking startled me. On instinct, I glanced toward my door, then trepidatiously back at my reflection again.

The form which had been present only a moment ago was gone.

Apprehension lifted the hairs on the back of my neck. First the early-morning summons, now my fellow silkwitch. This morning was proving to be quite a busy one indeed.

I nearly collided with Mia upon opening my door. She was tipped toward the entrance as though poised to knock again, wearing an expression of unusual urgency. The frilled collar of her dress was wrinkled, as if she had just pulled it from the bottom of her trunk. What has brought her here in such a fuss?

“Miss.” My maid curtsied hurriedly, her eyes wide and urgent. “We must go. They’re waiting for you in the library.”

She turned as if to leave, but I stepped forward, calling her back. “Who is waiting?”

It was, I thought, a natural question, yet Mia seemed befuddled by my prying. She glanced over her shoulder with a furrowed brow. “Your guests, miss.”