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I read the letter once more, committing every word to memory, then held it to the candle burning on my desk, allowing the paper to catch fire before tossing it into the empty hearth. I didn’t know what to make of Marius’s dreams any more than he did.

Rochefort was right about one thing: change was happening, whether we liked it or not.

Maris’s star’s reappearance. The Devouring. And now Marius’s dreams. I couldn’t quite see the whole picture, I was missing some important pieces, but I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like what I saw when it all came together.

Even though this mystery needed to be solved, only one face surfaced in the murky pool of my thoughts. Cora.

A knock came at the door, and I held very still. I didn’t need to ask who was waiting on the other side. I could feel her breathing. Could hear her heart. I slid my journal into a desk drawer and shut it.

No need for her to see what was behind the cover. She didn’t need to know how deep my depravity went.

“Enter.”

The door opened, and a goddess stood framed in the doorway.

She wore a bottle-green gown, styled in the fashion the ladies at court favored nowadays. The gold threading sparkled along the square neckline with every breath she took. It accentuated her collarbones and the long, unguarded line of her throat, where her pulse moved just beneath the skin. Her red hair was pinned half-up, the long red waves falling down her back.

The entire effect of her, standing there, left me breathless and trembling with anticipation.

Duval stood just behind her, and I swallowed hard, battling the possessiveness that had gripped me.

“Is everything alright, Your Grace?” Duval asked.

Forcing a smile, I gestured for them to come in.

When she took a step forward, her scent raced ahead, working its way into my lungs. Bitter orange, fig, clove. All warmed by her fluttering pulse. And beneath that, I could taste the flavor of her wanting.

She was nervous, yes. But she was not only nervous.

If that were so, then why had she been avoiding me?

Our eyes met, and my fangs ached at the root. Blood rushed through my body, hardening my arousal. I clasped my hands behind my back like a midshipman at inspection and moved to stand behind my desk.

Duval closed the door behind them, and I turned my attention to the important matter at hand. Discretion.

“Were you seen?”

“I paid the maids to be scarce,” Duval replied.

Smart. “And our guests?”

“Cards,” he answered, flashing his gold tooth. “Your brother is winning, which should hold his attention until dawn. Lady Christine has retired. Their sons are teaching Master Adrien how to play dice. If a single Rochefort catches so much as a rumor of this exchange, I will eat my hat.”

Indeed.

I gestured to the door. “And the corridor?”

“Held by three men who owe you their careers and me a considerable sum of money.”

Cora looked slowly from him to me. “How long have you two been planning this arrangement?”

“An hour,” I lied.

“All day,” Duval countered.

Cora looked away from the two of us and frowned. For whatever reason, that answer bothered her.

“Thank you, Duval, for your discretion,” I said. “I think I can handle it from here.”