Serpent & Dove

It didn’t take long for me to spot them, as Reid towered over everyone in the crowd. Connasse that she was, Célie still clutched his arm as they headed toward a door partially hidden by two evergreens.

I trailed after them. To my annoyance, and perhaps trepidation, they remained completely absorbed in each other, walking through the door without a backward glance. I made to slip through after them, but a hand caught my arm.

I whirled around to face the Archbishop.

“I wouldn’t.” He dropped my arm as if worried he’d catch something. “Envy is a mortal sin, child.”

“So is adultery.”

He ignored me, his gaze falling on the door. His face was paler than usual, drawn, and he looked like he’d lost weight since I last saw him. “We stole a future from him, you and I. Célie is everything a woman should be. Reid would have been happy.” He looked back at me, and his mouth tightened. “Now he pays for both our sins.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t blame you for your hedonistic upbringing, Louise, but you are a heathen.” His eyes shone fervid with conviction. “Perhaps if someone had been there—if someone had intervened—all of this could have been avoided.”

I stood motionless, rooted to the spot like the evergreens beside us, as he began to pace. “Now it’s too late. Let Reid enjoy this small pleasure away from your corruption.”

My bewilderment hardened into something glittering and cold at the words. As if I were the one who had done the corrupting. As if I were the one who should be ashamed.

I lifted my chin, stepping forward until I was offensively close to his pale face. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but you need to look in the mirror. There’s a special circle in Hell for liars and hypocrites, Your Eminence. Perhaps I’ll see you there.”

He gaped at me, but when I turned on my heel, he made no move to follow. The savage satisfaction coursing through me quickly dissipated as I entered what could only be a kitchen.

It was empty.

An icy breeze soon bit at my skin, however, and I realized the opposite door had been left ajar. The wind whistled through the narrow crack. I inched it open farther to see Reid and Célie standing in a dead herbal garden. Snow coated the brown bits of sage and rosemary.

I leaned forward, barely able to discern their voices over the wind.

“I’m sorry, Célie.” Reid cradled the woman’s hands in his own. She held her shoulders stiff—angry.

You shouldn’t be here, the small, disapproving voice at the back of my head warned. This is wrong. Private. You’re breaking trust.

He’s the one breaking trust.

“There has to be something we can do,” Célie said bitterly. “It isn’t right. The Archbishop knows you’re innocent. We could go to him—ask him for an annulment. He loves you as if you’re his own son. Surely he wouldn’t keep you trapped in a loveless marriage.”

My stomach dropped to somewhere below my ankles.

Reid stroked her fingers with his thumb. “The Archbishop is the one who suggested it.”

“The king, then. My father is the vicomte. I’m sure I could arrange a meeting—”

“Célie,” he said softly.

She sniffled, and I knew instinctively it wasn’t because of the cold. “I hate her.”

“Célie, you . . . you didn’t want me.”

My chest constricted at the emotion in his voice. At the pain.

“I always wanted you,” she said fiercely. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was angry, heartbroken, and I just—I needed time. I wanted to be selfless for her. For Pip.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, and I saw her face clearly for the first time. She had lovely high cheekbones, with wide, doe-like eyes and full lips. “But I don’t care anymore, Reid. I don’t care if it’s selfish. I want to be with you.”

Surely there is nothing more beautiful in all the world than your smile—except, of course, your eyes. Or your laugh. Or your lips.

I watched her press those lips to Reid’s cheek and felt sick. Suddenly, I didn’t find their love letters funny anymore.

He pulled away before she could move to his mouth. “Célie, don’t. Please. Don’t make this any harder.”

She paused, lower lip trembling. Her next words were a direct blow to my chest. “I love you, Reid.” She clung to him, pleading. “I’m so sorry I pushed you away, but we can still be together. We can fix this. You haven’t consummated the marriage. Speak to the Archbishop, ask for an annulment. He’ll send that whore to prison where she belongs, and—”

“She isn’t a whore.”

I leaned forward as Célie pulled back, frowning at something she saw in his face. “She was a thief, Reid, and she framed you. She—she doesn’t deserve you.”

Reid gently disentangled himself from her arms. “Célie, this can’t continue.” His voice was low, resigned. “Whether or not you like her, I made a vow. I will honor it.”

“Do you like her?” Célie demanded, eyes narrowing.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me!”

And me.

“What do you want me to say, Célie? She’s my wife. Of course I like her.”

Célie rocked back as if he’d slapped her. “What’s happened to you, Reid?”

“Nothing—”

“The Reid I know would abhor that woman. She is everything you stand against—”

“You don’t know her.”

“I obviously don’t know you either!”

“Célie, please—”

“Do you love her?”

I held my breath, fingers biting into the doorjamb. There was a heavy pause. Then—

“No.” He exhaled heavily, looking down. “But I think—I think maybe I could—”

“But you said you loved me.” She backed away slowly, eyes wide with shock and hurt. Tears slid down her cheeks. “You asked to marry me! Me—not her!”

“I— Célie, I did. But Lou . . .” He sighed and shook his head. “I won’t hurt her.”

“You won’t hurt her?” She cried in earnest now, patches of color rising to her pale cheeks. “What about me, Reid? We’ve known each other since we were children!” Her tears soaked her bodice, ruining the black silk. “What about Pip? What about your oath?”

Reid’s hands hung limp at his sides. “I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”

“I’m sorry too, Reid,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry I ever met you.”

I inched away from the door, numbness creeping down my limbs. I shouldn’t have been here. This moment hadn’t been meant for my eyes.

Back in the ballroom, I stood apart from the crowd, my mind still reeling.

Reid had loved her.

I shook my head, disgusted with myself. Of course he had. He’d said as much in his stupid journal—which I never should’ve read—and even if he hadn’t, he was a young, attractive man. He would’ve had his choice amongst any number of women if he hadn’t devoted his life to the Chasseurs. The thought rankled more than it should’ve. As did the thought of Célie’s lips—of anyone’s lips—pressed to his cheek.

Célie reemerged several moments later, wiping her face as inconspicuously as possible. She ducked her head before anyone could question her, heading straight for the antechamber. I swallowed the lump in my throat as Reid too reappeared. Watching as he searched for me, I debated following Célie.

How could I face him after what I’d heard? After learning what he’d given up?

Do you love her?

No. But I think—I think maybe I could—

Could what? Love me? Panic clawed up my throat at the word. Just as I’d lifted my skirts to flee toward the carriage, however, Reid spotted me in the crowd. I waved awkwardly, cursing my sudden insecurity, as his blue eyes met mine and widened. He started forward, politely excusing himself from the many aristocrats who tried to stop and congratulate him along the way.

I shifted my feet—intensely and horribly aware of my thunderous heartbeat, my tingling limbs, my flushed skin—when he finally reached me.

He took my hand. “You look beautiful.”

I flushed further under his gaze. Unlike the prince’s haughty appreciation, Reid was almost . . . reverent. No one had ever looked at me like that before.

“Thank you.” My breath caught, and he tilted his head, eyes searching mine in silent question. I looked away, embarrassed, but Coco chose that moment to swoop down on us.

She didn’t bother with pleasantries. She never did with Reid. “Tell me, Chasseur Diggory, who was that lovely woman you were with earlier? Your sister, perhaps?”

I glared at her pointedly, but she ignored me. Subtlety had never been Coco’s forte.

“Oh—er, no,” Reid said. “That was the vicomte’s daughter, Mademoiselle Tremblay.”

“Close personal friend?” Coco pressed. “Her-dad-is-friends-with-your-dad type of thing?”

“I’ve never met my father,” Reid answered woodenly.

But Coco didn’t bat an eye. “How do you know one another then?”

“Brie.” I forced a smile and reached for her hand, squeezing it mercilessly. “I think I’d like a little time alone with my husband. Where’s Ansel?”

She waved her other hand behind us dispassionately. “Probably beating his chest and challenging that other Chasseur to a duel.”

I looked back to where she waved. “What other Chasseur?”

“The pompous one. The asshat.” She pursed her lips in concentration, but she needn’t have bothered. I knew exactly to whom she referred. “Jean Luc.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, the usual male condition. Ansel didn’t want Jean Luc playing with his new toy.” She rolled her eyes. “I swear, my female paramours are never so much trouble.”

My grin was genuine now. Poor Ansel. He didn’t stand a chance against Jean Luc—or Coco. “Perhaps you should go referee.”

Coco studied my hand clasped around Reid’s, and the feverish complexion of my cheeks. The way he stood close. Much too close. Her eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I should.”

She stepped forward to embrace me, but Reid wouldn’t let go of my hand. Shooting him a glare, she hugged me regardless—awkward, but fierce. “I’ll see you later,” she murmured in my ear. “Let me know if I need to exsanguinate him.”

Reid watched her leave with an inscrutable expression. “We need to talk,” he said finally. “Somewhere private.”

I followed him in silent apprehension to the same herb garden of Célie’s heartbreak. This time, I made sure to shut the kitchen door firmly behind us. Whatever he wanted to confess—and I had an inkling it would hurt like a bitch—I didn’t need an audience.

He dragged a hand through his coppery hair in agitation. “Lou, the woman you and Mademoiselle Perrot saw me with, that was—”

“Don’t.” I wrapped my arms around my waist to keep from shivering. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t relive the wretched conversation again. Hearing it once had been enough. “You don’t have to explain anything. I understand.”

“I do need to explain,” he disagreed. “Look, I know we were married under less than ideal circumstances. But, Lou, I—I want this to work. I want to be your husband. I know I can’t force you to want the same, but—”

“I do want the same,” I whispered.

His eyes widened, and he took a tentative step closer. “You do?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, then—truly smiled—before faltering slightly. “Then there can’t be any secrets between us.” He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “The woman you saw was Célie. You read my letters, so you know I loved her. But—but nothing happened. I promise. She found me when I arrived with the Archbishop, and she . . . she refused to leave my side. I brought her out here just a few moments ago to explain the new parameters of our relationship. I told her I didn’t—”

“I know.”

I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the unpleasantness to come. He frowned. “How can you know that?”

Because I’m a shit person. Because I didn’t trust you. Because she is everything you deserve, and I am your enemy.

“I followed the two of you out here,” I admitted quietly. “I . . . I heard everything.”

“You spied on us?” Disbelief colored his voice.

I trembled. Whether from the cold or shame, I didn’t know. “Old habits die hard.”

His brows pinched together, and he drew back slightly. “That’s not how I would’ve chosen for you to find out.”

I shrugged, attempting a bit of my old swagger, but it fell flat. “Easier this way though.”

He stared at me for a long moment—so long I didn’t know whether he would speak at all. I recoiled from his intensity. “No more secrets, Lou,” he said finally. “No more lies.”

I cursed myself for not being able to give him the answer he wanted. The answer I wanted. Because there it was—leering at me.

I didn’t want to lie to him anymore.

“I . . . I’ll try,” I whispered.

It was the best I could give him.

He nodded, slow and understanding. “Let’s go back inside. You’re shivering.”

“Wait.” I grabbed his hand before he could turn, my heart lodged firmly in my throat. “I—I want to—”

Make a complete and total fool of myself. I shook my head, cursing silently. I was no good at this. Honesty, sincerity—both were too troublesome to bother with usually. But now . . . with Reid . . . I owed him both.

“I want to thank you—for everything.” I squeezed his fingers, my own stiff and aching from the cold. “Célie was right. I don’t deserve you. I made a real mess of your life when I came into it.”

His other hand came down on top of mine. Warm and steady. To my surprise, he smiled. “I’m glad you did.”

Blood crept into my frozen cheeks, and I suddenly found it difficult to look at him. “Right, well, then . . . let’s go back inside. I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

The celebration still raged when we returned to the ballroom. I grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing servant and downed it in one swallow.

Reid eyed me incredulously. “You drink like a man.”

“Maybe men can learn a thing or two from women.” I waved the servant back and grabbed two more flutes, passing one to Reid. He didn’t take it. “Relax, Chass. Indulge. This is the best champagne money can buy. It’s an insult to His Majesty not to drink it.” I scanned the crowd with feigned boredom. “Where is King Auguste, anyway? He’s supposed to be here, isn’t he?”

“He is. He introduced me earlier.”

“What was he like?”

“About as you’d expect.”

“So a smarmy bastard like his son?” I waved the flute of champagne under his nose, but he merely shook his head. I shrugged, downing his glass too and chuckling at his expression.

After a few moments, delicious warmth spread through my body. The music—previously a slow, insipid waltz—sounded much better now. Livelier. I downed the third glass. “Dance with me,” I said abruptly.

Reid looked at me in bewilderment. “What?”

“Dance with me!” I stood on my tiptoes and threw my arms around his neck. He tensed, glancing around, but I tugged him down determinedly. He complied, stooping slightly, and wrapped his arms around my waist. I laughed.

We looked ridiculous, all bent and straining to fit together, but I refused to let him go.

“This—this isn’t the proper way to dance.”

I lifted my chin and looked him directly in the eyes. “Of course it is. You’re the guest of honor. You can dance any way you want.”

“I—I don’t usually do this—”

“Reid, if you don’t dance with me, I’ll go and find someone who will.”

His grip tightened on my hips. “No, you won’t.”

“Then the way forward is clear. We dance.”

He blew out a breath and closed his eyes. “Fine.”

As nervous as he’d been to dance, he proved himself capable within moments, moving with unnatural grace for someone so tall. I myself stumbled more than once. I would’ve blamed the train of my stupid dress, but really, it was just me. I couldn’t concentrate. His hands were strong on my waist, and I couldn’t help but imagine them . . . elsewhere. My blood heated at the thought.

The song ended far too soon.

“We should go,” he said, voice rough. “It’s getting late.”

I nodded and stepped away from him, not trusting myself to speak.

It didn’t take much time to find Coco. She leaned against the wall near the antechamber, chatting with none other than Beauregard Lyon. He had an arm braced against the wall above her head. Even from a distance, I could see they were flirting shamelessly.

Both their gazes flicked to me as Reid and I approached.

“Well, well, well . . . if it isn’t Madame Diggory.” The prince’s eyes glittered with amusement. “I see your husband made the right choice.”

I ignored him, though Reid bristled at his words. “Brie, we’re ready to go. Are you coming?”

Coco looked to the prince, who smirked. “This lovely creature will not be leaving my side for the remainder of the evening. Sorry, darling,” he whispered to me conspiratorially. “I’ll need to postpone that offer . . . unless you or your husband would care to join?”

I glared at him. Ass.

Reid’s eyes narrowed. “What offer?”

I tugged on his arm. “Let’s go find Ansel.”

“He already left.” Coco wrapped her arms around the prince’s waist. A wicked gleam lit her dark eyes. “Just the two of you on the ride home. I hope you don’t mind.”

I bared my teeth in an attempt at a smile. “Can I talk to you in private for a moment, Brie?”

Surprise flashed across her features, but she quickly recovered. “Of course.”

Smile slipping, I dragged her into the antechamber. “What are you doing?”

She shimmied her hips. “Trying to get you some alone time with your husband. The dance floor didn’t look like it was cutting it.”

“I meant with the prince.”

“Oh.” She arched a brow and grinned. “Probably the same thing you’ll be doing with Reid.”

“Are you insane? He’ll see your scars!”

She raised a shoulder in indifference, tugging at her tight black sleeve. “So I’ll tell him I was in an accident. Why would he suspect anything else? It’s not like Dames Rouges are common knowledge, and everyone here thinks I’m Brie Perrot, a healer and close friend of Captain Reid Diggory. Besides, aren’t you being a bit hypocritical? Beau and I are just sex, but you and Reid . . . I won’t claim to know what the hell is going on with you two, but something is going on.”

I scoffed, but my face flushed treacherously. “You really are insane.”

“Am I?” Coco took my hands, eyes searching my face. “I don’t want to tell you your business, Lou, but please . . . be careful. You’re playing a dangerous game. Reid is still a Chasseur, and you’re still a witch. You know you’ll have to part ways eventually. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

My anger evaporated at her concern, and I squeezed her hands in reassurance. “I know what I’m doing, Coco.”

But even I knew that was a lie. I had no idea what I was doing when it came to Reid.

She dropped my hands, frowning. “Right. I’ll just leave you alone then, and the two of you can continue this stupidity together.”

My stomach sank inexplicably as I watched her go. I didn’t like fighting with Coco, but there was nothing I could do to fix it this time.

Reid reappeared by my side a moment later, taking my arm and leading me to the carriage—the carriage that was suddenly too small, too warm, with Reid sitting beside me. His fingers brushed my thigh in a seemingly innocent gesture, and I couldn’t help but remember the feel of them on my waist. I shuddered and closed my eyes.

When I opened them a moment later, Reid was staring at me. I swallowed, and his gaze fell to my lips. I willed him to lean forward—to bridge the distance between us—but his eyes shuttered at the last second, and he pulled away.

Disappointment crashed through me, replaced quickly by the sharp sting of humiliation.

It’s for the best. I glared out the window. Coco had been right: Reid was still a Chasseur, and I was still a witch. No matter what happened between us, no matter what changed, this one, insurmountable obstacle would remain. And yet . . . I studied his rigid profile, the way his eyes kept gravitating back to me.

It would be stupid to start down this path. There was only one way it could end. That knowledge did nothing to stop my heart from racing at his proximity, however, nor dim my spark of hope. Hope that, perhaps, our story could end a different way.

But . . . Coco had been right.

I was playing a dangerous game.