Page 47 of The False Vow

He waved me over to him, Bernard already turning to retreat inside. Wary, I drew closer. Nearer to the—was it a vehicle?—I could see that the thing’s wheels appeared freshly painted, its leather booth shining as if brand-new.

I paused several paces away, not entirely confident it wouldn’t snap open its great hood and bite me. “What is this?”

Noé patted the vehicle’s side. It had no doors, I realized, just a wide, open dip where riders could step from the ground into its belly. “Do you like her? She is one of only three in the world. My father calls her an automobile—had her custom-designed by our own artisans. She is powered by magesilk, naturally, though you can’t see her engine as it’s just beneath our seats.”

My stomach dropped. I could only stare at him, affronted. “You cannot expect me to ride in this death trap.”

Noé’s eyes glinted. “Oh, but I do,” he replied smoothly. “We have much to discuss, and I am tired of creeping around Father in order to discuss it.” He lifted his chin toward the automobile. “There is no privacy like that of the open road.”

“And there is no solitude like that of the grave,” I hissed. “Besides, we cannot go anywhere now. Today is the Maiden’s Race—it was listed on the schedule your father shared.”

That damned schedule had been another factor preventing me from sleeping the previous night. I still had no idea what exactly the next event—the so-called Maiden’s Race—entailed, nor had I any desire to ask. The memory of the garotte in Nathalie’s pocket, of Manon’s hands flat against my back, pushing me off the ledge, told me all I needed; whatever today’s gathering was, I was certain my bridesmaids had already planned for it.

I was certain at least one of them would come for me before it finished.

Noé removed his cigarette from his mouth, holding it between his fingers. “So?”

“So,” I echoed. “We are obligated to attend.”

He tapped a spray of ash onto the ground. “You mean to tell me that my father is actively trying to have you killed, and you are—what—too polite to skip an opportunity for your own execution?” He drew again at his smoke, then exhaled. “I don’t give a damn about the race, Tamerlane. Let’s go.”

It was, admittedly, a fair point. Begrudgingly, I advanced toward the automobile’s open side, debating how to enter it.

“Would you look at that!” Noé cried. “She sees reason.” Smirking, he extended an arm toward me. “Help up, sweetheart?”

His voice was obviously mocking. I wanted to take the pair of calfskin gloves he had tucked in his trouser pocket and beat him with one. “Don’t touch me.”

He held up his hands innocently. Averting my gaze, I continued my examination of the machine. The gap between the ground and its floor was sizable—really, a supportive elbow would be a great help, but I refused to admit as much.

Drawing in a breath, I lifted my skirts, clambering awkwardly into the vehicle. My left foot wobbled in its heeled boot as my right one connected with the automobile’s rim; I cursed as I lost my balance and tumbled forward, one knee colliding painfully with the wood.

Straightening, I hoisted myself into the leather booth and shot Noé a glare. My confidence wavered as, with deliberate showiness, he reached down toward the automobile’s bottom rim and popped something free: a footrest.

My cheeks flushed. Maneuvering to the front of the automobile, Noé turned a hand crank, which I now noticed was attached to the hood. I stiffened in my seat as the machine roared to life, the engine announcing its presence beneath the booth with a noise like the yowl of a cat. The sound sent a thrill down my spine, but I held my composure as Noé stepped onto the footrest, then swung himself easily into the booth beside me.

Once he’d gotten settled, he took the wooden lever—a steering mechanism of sorts?—in hand. My heart pounded as, seemingly of its own volition, the automobile began to roll forward, picking up speed until we were bumping down the driveway at a steady clip.

I yelped as the vehicle jerked unsteadily to the right, then the left, tipping us dangerously close to the edge of the cliffside and the steep drop beyond. “Sisters three! Have you driven this before?”

“How could I have?” Noé called back over the growl of the engine. “It was delivered only yesterday.” His cigarette was still clenched in his mouth, twitching along with the machine as we heaved onward; noticing my horrified expression, he chuckled through his teeth. “Oh, don’t look so frightened. I’m a quick learner—there we are.”

Another shriek escaped me. I clutched at my caul as Noé threw the lever to the right, the automobile lurching along with it to narrowly avoid plunging straight past a bend in the road, into the open air. I caught a glimpse out the vehicle’s side as we swung back toward safety; far below us, the ocean seethed, frothy white jaws snapping.

“Do we have a destination in mind, or is your only goal to drive us off a cliff?”

Noé took a final draw of his cigarette, then stubbed it out on the auto’s rim. “Patience, Tamerlane,” he replied enigmatically. “You’ll see when we get there.” Keeping one hand on the steering lever, he glanced over at me. “You’ve been holding something back from me.”

His voice was too casual. It made me go rigid. What was he going to accuse me of now?

“When were you going to tell me that Lear is engaged?”

For a moment, surprise rendered me silent. I had to keep my hand from drifting toward my skirt pocket, where I’d placed my coin before departing my bedroom earlier. Now that Eliot had given his up, there was no point in my carrying it, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave it behind.

If I kept a piece of him near me, it was almost like he hadn’t left at all.

“I didn’t think it would matter to you,” I lied, carefully, a few seconds later. “Seeing as you have insisted to me—multiple times, and rather melodramatically, I might add—that the two of you are no longer friends.”

Noé huffed. “Well. Are you all right?”