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I straightened and gave Zaq a delighted smile. “I like how you think. And of course, I’m going. Just try and stop me.”
“A wolf-dog indeed,” murmured Karoly. He seemed pleased for some reason. “But De Froulay may not agree. He’s already punished Philippe.”
Zaq’s face hardened. “De Froulay can go fuck himself. Moreau’s dead, whether or not he put the hit out on us.”
His father stroked his lower lip. “All right. If necessary, I’ll make it right with de Froulay. Just don’t let him catch you.”
I stirred. “I can do better than that.”
Two pairs of eyes turned in my direction. Despite their difference in appearance, their expressions were so similar—brows tilted up, gaze laser-focused on me—that it hit me anew that Zaq was Karoly Kral’s son.
And I was in love with him.
The sense of unreality increased. How had I ended up here?
But I was committed now.
“Better than what?” Karoly prompted.
“I’ll contact Primus de Froulay, get his permission. He owes me a favor.”
Karoly looked me up and down. His gaze lingered on my hair and eyes. Understanding dawned on his face. “Does he, now?”
“I’ll need a phone,” I told Zaq. “I don’t want to use the same one I’ve been using.”
“In my office,” he said, and we trooped down the hall.
Zaq got me a burner phone, and I entered de Froulay’s number, the one I hadn’t meant to memorize, but had, and sent him a text.
It’s R. Can we talk?
Within moments, the phone buzzed with an incoming call. I tapped Accept.
“De Froulay? It’s me.”
His velvety actor’s voice sounded in my ear. “How are you, little one?”
“Fine.” I hesitated, then reluctantly added, “And you?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“Good, good.” I glanced at Zaq and Karoly.
Zaq gave me an encouraging smile. His father simply eyed me.
I sipped in a slow breath through my teeth. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m with Zaquiel and Karoly Kral right now. Zaq and I are coming to Paris, and we want your permission to slay Moreau.”
He made a low, surprised sound. “You know, then?”
“That he took Zaquiel prisoner? Yeah.”
“Yes, Karoly informed me.”
“Mm-hum.” I knit my brow, feeling like we were talking at cross purposes. “Then what did you mean? What am I supposed to know?”
