Page 32 of The False Vow

Anais flashed me a terse smile. “I do whatever Adélard tells me,” she replied, settling back in her chair. “He desires a chaste virgin, so a virgin I have become. That is the life you forced me into, when you ensured the rumors of Dorian and me reached Noé—are you pleased with yourself?”

Her tone was acidic, her legs tucked neatly beneath her like a cat’s. The meek disguise she’d adopted earlier was now firmly tossed off, but despite her abrasiveness, I found I preferred her like this. Her villainy facing out, where I could see it.

Screwing the cap back on the flask, I set it aside, untouched. “I did nothing except hasten the consequences of your own actions.”

Anais huffed. “Speaking of fiancés,” she said. “I take it you were unaware of a certain Weaver bachelor’s new coupling.”

At once, the fight went out of me. Voices drifted up from the library’s first level; if I walked to the gallery’s railing and peered over its edge, would I see Eliot there, that ring on his finger like a stamp, marking his identity? Connecting him to another, two pieces in a set.

They dressed you to match. His criticism of me, when we’d conversed at the opera—now I could have flipped it back.

It was a long while before I could summon the energy to speak. “When did it happen?” My voice was gravelly; it made me feel like a wounded deer.

Anais shrugged, though by the intentional stillness which had gripped her at my question, I could tell she was tracking my reactions carefully. “Last night,” she replied. “Clio arrived late to the Winns’—the two of them spent most of the party’s latter half talking. Even so, I don’t think anyone, least of all her, expected him to make an offer.” Her eyes flashed. “I thought Eliot might have mentioned something about his plans to you, when you two spoke,” she admitted. “Seeing as the pair of you appeared rather…close…during our competition.”

The party. So that’s why she’d been inquiring about the timing of my departure. My stomach plunged, my mouth flushing with the stale-iron taste of the liquor in the other maiden’s flask. Eliot had proposed to Clio directly after our last talk.

My sorrow crystalized, knifed into anger. Oh, he and I would have words.

Anais, who’d slipped back into her silent assessment of me as I’d been thinking, gave a sudden huff. “Cecilia, get a hold of yourself,” she snipped. “I don’t know what passed between you and Lear during the Vainglory, but I am certain he cannot love Lavoie. Believe me, as one who allied with her—she lacks a heart to return the feelings.”

I flinched at her command—late. Too late. For a half second, I hadn’t registered my false name, my reactions dulled by the revelation she’d just imparted. Fear burrowed into me. My mask was at risk of slipping.

Gathering myself, I cleared my throat. “I don’t recall giving you permission to call me by my given name.”

My tone was cold. I felt a surge of relief when, in response to my falter, Anais just rolled her eyes. “Fine, Miss Lovett,” she obliged waspishly. “We have more urgent matters to discuss anyhow.” Shifting forward, she laid her hands in her lap, her manner suddenly businesslike. “You made an accusation about Manon.”

Her gaze was focusing. Matching her advance, I moved toward the edge of my armchair, glad for the opportunity to turn my mind, at least momentarily, away from Eliot and Clio. “You guessed she would attack me,” I stated. “Or if not her, one of the girls. It is why you warned me to avoid being caught alone with them, is it not?”

Anais shrugged. A stray curl had escaped the netting of her caul—idly, she shoved it back in. “To be fair, I didn’t expect Manon to take the bait,” she replied. “The others, certainly, but…”

It was difficult not to let my desperation show. “Who put her up to it? Noé?”

Anais twisted her lips, as though amused by the suggestion, but gave no answer. After a moment of silence had passed, I tried again.

“If you refuse to tell me, I can always confront Manon directly. As she has physically assaulted me once already, I must take certain precautions.” I cocked my head to the side, debating. “Perhaps if I report her violence to the city guard and have her arrested, we could communicate once she is behind bars?”

The effect of my threat was immediate. Anais sat up straighter, her jaw clenching. It reminded me of the first time I’d clashed with her, during the Vainglory: how she’d rescinded her claws as soon as I’d brought up Manon, dropping her knives without even attempting to use them.

I’d been relying on a similar reaction to get her to bend now, too. Maybe it was cruel, my weaponizing her obvious feelings for the other maiden when their relationship was so clearly in tatters, but…

Manon had always been Anais’s weakness. And, for the moment at least, she was one I needed to exploit.

I felt myself soften, just a fraction, as the other silkwitch spoke again. “It is not Noé—the person you are referring to,” Anais admitted reluctantly. Quieting, she tilted her head, her expression turning coaxing. “If I tell you, you must promise not to pursue justice against her.”

I laughed. “Anais, she tried to kill me.”

The other silkwitch pouted her bottom lip. “She did not mean it.”

She went on before I could protest, one foot swinging girlishly over the side of her chair.

“Information in exchange for exoneration,” Anais said sweetly. “That is my offer.” She tsked at my responding glare, sweeping her eyes gracefully away from mine. “Oh, don’t act so righteous. You knew there would be a bargain, coming to me.”

I had, though as selfish as she was, I assumed whatever currency I paid would be doled out to her—not on behalf of another. Regarding her, I asked, “Does she know you still care for her?”

Anais’s smile was thin, the closed-mouth snarl of a viper. “Does your betrothed know you would prefer his closest friend?” I did not wince at her jab, though it had the beneficial effect of immediately drying up the measure of sympathy that had welled within me at her previous disclosure. Her face slackening, she eyed me flatly. “Give me your answer.”

This time, the eye roll was mine. Sitting back in my seat, I twisted my engagement ring, feeling the band slide like a lock around my knuckle. “Fine. I’ll leave Manon be. Now go on.”