Page 99 of The False Vow

I ran back to my bedroom, not bothering to lock my door behind me. A dress. I needed to find a new dress to put on—and a weapon to stow within it, in case any of my bridesmaids made a play during my fitting. Would any of them make one? Or what if one of them already had? I could picture it: a silkwitch sneaking into Fortblanche without my realizing, lying in wait until she found the perfect moment to strike.

My Wit tugged at my chest in the same second that I registered the sound of my door creaking open behind me. Heart in my throat, I grabbed the first bladed object I could find—a letter opener resting on my end table—and whirled around.

Anais’s eyes blew wide as she took in the sharp object gripped in my hand. “Sisters,” she said, releasing the doorknob she was clutching. “I’m not going to kill you. I’ll leave that to the rest of them.”

My face flushed. Turning around, I set the letter opener down, my back to her. “You’ve no right to come in here.”

I tried to make it come out bitter, but her unexpected entrance had left me too shaken. My voice was high and frightened. I sounded like a creature whose tail had been stepped on.

Anais gave no reply. I didn’t shift to face her, waiting with my shoulders hunched for her retreat. After several seconds had passed, she sighed.

“Did you ever have them?” she asked in a somewhat irritated tone. “The gloves.”

Had she really followed me up here to pester me about those damned gloves? My fingers curled over the edge of the end table. “Why do you care about them?” I asked dully. “They can’t have been worth more than fifteen twills. Have your betrothed buy you a new pair.”

I could hear the other silkwitch shifting uncomfortably to my back. For a moment, I wondered whether she would answer me at all, but then she released another exhale and said, “They were a present.” Her speech was shy, reluctant. “From Manon.”

Ah. My resolve softened. I turned to face her.

“I found another pair,” I answered. “Different from the ones you said you lost. They’re gone now anyway.”

She met my stare head-on. Again, I waited for her to take my reply and leave; again, she remained where she was, assessing me. “You are behaving decidedly oddly this morning,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I assume it has something to do with last night’s dinner?”

Her razor-sharp gaze was difficult to evade. She smirked when I glanced away, unsettled.

“I thought so,” she said.

Without asking my permission, she crossed to the armchair by my fireplace and curled up on it, studying me from beneath her lashes. “You and Noé were gone for quite a long while,” she said. “Were you quarreling?” Her brows lifted, as if an idea had just occurred to her. “Have the two of you slept together?”

She sounded delighted and fascinated by the notion of it. Blood surged to my cheeks. “Sisters three. No.”

Her lips quirked upward. The reaction made the heat under my skin stoke higher; I tried again, my denial firmer this time.

“We have not,” I insisted.

It was the truth, full and unadulterated. And yet…

Sisters dammit. Why did it sound like a lie?

Regardless, Anais sat back, apparently satisfied by the answer. “Pity,” she remarked in a downcast tone. “He is such a strange one, you know. I’ve always wondered if that wily temperament of his would carry over into bed.” For a second, her attention drifted, seemingly lost to imaginings. I hated the spark of jealousy which erupted, hot and potent in my core, before she sighed and continued, “Even so, I suppose you’ll find out soon enough. What about Eliot Lear, then?”

By the three. Why was she asking about this? How did I make her stop? “I’ve not slept with either of them.”

This reply appeared to stun her even more than my previous one. “Really?” she said incredulously. “You’re at the pole position of a love triangle, and you’ve tried neither option?” She clicked her tongue. “How disappointing. I encourage you to reconsider, Cecilia. Truly, you may never get a chance like this again.”

My neck burned. “I am not in a love triangle,” I hissed.

Speaking the words aloud made me feel utterly ridiculous. Why was I enduring any of this? Was it not my bedroom we were in?

Remembering it, my good sense returned to me. “This discussion is pointless. The rest of my bridesmaids will be here in less than an hour, as you said. You should leave.” In emphasis, I pivoted away from her, back toward the end table. When a minute had passed and I’d yet to hear the sound of my door creaking open again, my patience fractured.

I turned around. “Anais.”

She pulled her knees up to her chest, eyeing me from her armchair. “Manon took me aside after you’d fled the table yesterday. She told me that you’d paid her a visit—and what you said to her, about my aiding you in exchange for you forgiving her attempt on your life.” Anais paused, her expression growing disconcertingly thoughtful. “You helped me.”

The change in subject threw me. I scowled. “Don’t be sentimental,” I said, deflecting her. “Why would I help you? There would be nothing in it for me.”

Anais seemed to expect the response. “I know,” she answered. “I thought exactly the same thing.”