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I choke back a laugh, barely.Of course he does.
“And I need a diamond-encrusted blade resting upon a mountain of freshly steamed pork buns, but we can’t all have what we want, now can we?”
Remy throws his head back in a full-bellied laugh, and it seeps through to every part of me. I turn to leave, but his voice follows me.
“Indeed. For instance, I’m sure you don’twantme to go to the magistrate with my information on the vigilante.”
I freeze, my heart dropping into my stomach. “You don’t have any information on the vigilante.”
“A mysterious girl who smells like woodsmoke? It will be your word against mine, and he’s an old friend.” His words are casual enough that I almost believe him, but then, bluffing is what Remy does best.
I rotate slowly to face him, pretending that his words don’t make me feel like I’m balancing on the balcony of the Chateau, one strong gale away from being dashed against the jagged rocks below.
“You would falsely accuse me? What about all your precious moral high ground?” My voice is lower than before, careful of any listening ears in the crowd around us.
“I seem to recall you telling me that was for people who didn’t have to live in reality. You should be happy that I’ve decided to lower myself to your level.” He matches my volume this time.
I had said that and meant it, but I never expected it to come back and haunt me this way.
“Don’t you have enough to do without chasing ghosts?” I try a different tactic.
“The vigilante is hardly a ghost, and I’d venture to say Madame is real enough, judging by the look on your face when I mentioned her.”
My stomach hollows, and it’s an effort to keep my features neutral. Remy has caught me off guard twice now in as many days. I choose my words carefully, trying to answer the way an actual low-level pickpocket would.
“No one with any sense has heard of Madame.” I allow a bit of fear to enter my gaze. “If you were smart, you’d forget you had either.”
“Wish that I could.” His deep brown eyes meet mine, his hand going almost subconsciously to the sword belted at the waist of his uniform. “Especially since all I seem to be getting are answers like yours. Even my infallible charm hasn’t been enough to convince anyone to talk, except for a handful of vague hints from people who have since disappeared underquestionablecircumstances.”
“Seems like a solid reason to let it go.”
He arches a brow. “But it’s my job to lower crime, and she seems to be intent on raising it.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Remy. The criminals in this city have existed long before her and will keep on long after she’s gone.” Not that I think she’ll ever really be gone.
Still, it’s true enough. Mother might profit from the crime, but she only organizes what was already there.
“Ah, but they’re bolder now. And whoever this vigilante is, he clearly isn’t afraid of her.”
He.It’s an effort not to scoff.
“So, people are being killed for just thinking about talking and you feel like it’s a good idea to keep pushing?” I hope my expression conveys exactly how stupid I think he is.
Especially since I’ve helped create the dead end he’s running into, and I don’t particularly want him up next on my list of people to frighten into submission. My worlds are coming perilously close to colliding.
Remy and I wouldn’t be the only casualties in that disaster.
“Well, what can I say? I’ve got nothing better to do.” The stubborn tilt of his chin is at odds with his nonchalant tone, but both tell me I’m going to get nowhere convincing him to leave this alone.
But I’m also not going to help him commit suicide.
“That’s admirable, truly. I’ll put it on your tombstone. Sadly, you might not have qualms about risking your life, but I have no desire to risk mine.” Speaking of which, I throw a surreptitious glance around to make sure no one is looking at me with too much interest.
I’d rather not explain this encounter to Mother later. Time to wrap this up.
“I’m going to have to decline. You should get back to Lawrence anyway. He’s looking even more uptight than usual.”
This is not untrue, as Lawrence paces irritably and gestures to his pocket watch.
Remy ignores his friend, his lips parting in disbelief. “You would rather be accused of burning people alive than help me? At this point, there’s no guarantee of a fair trial. They would hang a dozen men and women if it meant one of them might be the vigilante. You’ll get the noose if you’re convicted.”
I resist the urge to swallow back a wave of bile. Mother rewards those who are loyal to her, but if she finds out I have betrayed her, I’ll be begging for the noose.
Less than a second passes while I weigh my options, each choice like a leaky boat in a churning sea. Dubious, with a heavy potential to sink me. So I pick the one I believe will hold up the longest, calling Remy on what I sincerely hope is one of his many bluffs.
“I’ll take my chances with the hangman.” I shrug, turning to leave. “At least that would be a quick death.”
