Page 72 of Bloodgrove

Lightning flashed in Elodie’s eyes. “He does not despise me. He merely treats me as though I were still a child.”

“Whatever you say…”

Elodie ignored him. Instead, she set down her spoon and crossed her arms. Will braced himself. “What did you want from Saint in the harbor district?”

“Answers to questions you refuse to give. Because I am tired of walking blindly toward my destruction.”

“You still doubt me?” Coldness drew across her face.

Instinctively, he wanted to say no, but he paused and studied her again. There were two sides to her. The duchess sat before him now—stern and exalted, entirely in command of herself, at the center of her web. And at the end of one of those threads sat Will, dancing whenever she pulled it.

But there was also the young woman whose eyes glittered with curiosity and wit, whose passion was restrained only by tight corsets and iron will—the girl who dreamed, who longed for the world, who wished for a future.

But what remained of that little girl?

“Yes,” he said at last. “But I doubt your methods, not your goal.”

She sighed. “Killing the Red Hand is both the easiest and the most difficult path.”

Satisfied, he leaned back, touched his fingertips together, and watched her over them. “During a full moon.”

Elodie narrowed her eyes. “Exactly. During a full moon. That is what my father told me. According to him, a portal to the King opens then, and the true trial begins. He did not reveal what it entails. The court takes great care to emphasize that the Red Hand chooses his successor—often from the Senate—and so the most powerful mages prefer to kill one another rather than turn their attention toward the man himself. Meanwhile, my uncle watches it all from the safety of his powerful castle.”

The soup was cleared away, and the main course arrived. Fish marinated in beet juice, its flesh marbled purple, rested upon a cloud of white cauliflower.

“But how do you intend to kill the Red Hand at his own ball?”

Elodie laughed. “Inside his mansion, he is invincible.”

“The New Year’s ball! But you are getting married at the New Year’s ball.” He stared at her in disbelief.

“I will send the invitations shortly beforehand, and with luck, all my ‘useless pursuits’ will have paid off, and people will be willing to miss his ball for the sake of a scandal. The chance to see me married in your new ballroom should be enough to draw them here. And in this house, beneath the watch of my ancestors, I will have the advantage.”

Will swallowed. She said it so lightly, as though it were not the most deranged plan ever conceived. “I cannot decide whether to be impressed or deeply terrified. There are still so many uncertainties.”

Elodie leaned toward him. “That is where you come in. Be your most charming and mysterious self, and they will all come to witness your magic. I want you to finish the small parlor on the evening of the wedding—with magic.”

“I…”

Elodie frowned. “I need you. My uncle is just as obsessed with your secret as everyone else.”

He struggled for words, incapable of denying her request and yet not brave enough to confront his magic. As though she could read all of that in his face, she took his hand and entwined their fingers like lovers.

“Will,” she whispered, searching his face for something he could not name. “Have I ever told you how grateful I am for you?”

“You pay me to be here.”

“Is that why you are still here?”

He resisted confessing how badly his reputation had suffered in the Capitol. But that had long ceased to be the reason he remained. “No. But do not force me to say it while you still call me a mistake.”

The storm in her eyes glittered, and the girl who saw wonders looked back at him. “Perhaps I should not be so harsh with my mistakes when murder and betrayal trouble me so little.”

Chapter 38

For tonight's ball, a heavy fur lay across Will's shoulders, and the severe cut of the military-inspired coat held his chest upright, forcing him to keep his shoulders squared whenever he threatened to fold in on himself. But it was far too warm, so he escaped the group of chattering guests quickly in search of the courtyard.

None of the corridors led where he remembered, and even when he followed a group of guests, he would find himself alone again after the next turn. Heat built beneath his heavy winter coat, and sweat gathered on his brow until he finally stumbled through a door into the cold.