Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1)(104)

Angry tears sprang to her eyes. “I don’t know where the Chateau is. Only a Dame Blanche can find it, and you’ve lost the only Dame Blanche I know!”

“You—you’re not a Dame Blanche?”

She flung her bloody palm under my nose as if it should mean something. “Of course not! Are Chasseurs really this ignorant?”

I stared at the blood pooling there with rising hysteria. The same acrid smell from before assaulted me. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m a Dame Rouge, you idiot. A Red Lady. A blood witch.” She slapped her hand on the table, splattering the black shapes. “I can’t find the Chateau because I’ve never been there.”

A ringing started in my ears. “No.” I shook my head. “That can’t be true. There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t.” Tears spilled down her cheeks as she shoved to her feet, but she wiped them away quickly. The scent around us sharpened. “Unless you know another Dame Blanche—another Dame Blanche willing to betray her sisters and lead a Chasseur into their home—Lou is gone.”

No.

“Do you know a witch like that, Chass?” She stuck a finger in my chest, tears still streaming. They hissed and smoked when they dripped on her shirt. Beau rose, placing an uncertain hand on her back. “Do you know a witch willing to sacrifice everything for you the way Lou did? Do you?”

No.

“Actually,” a cool, familiar voice replied, “he does.”

We turned as one to look upon my savior. I nearly choked at her fiery red hair.

God, no.

Madame Labelle waved a hand toward the eavesdropping men nearest us. “This is a private conversation, dears. I hope you understand.”

Magic—the normal, cloying kind—burst through the air, and their bloodshot eyes glazed over. They turned their attention back to the dancing girls, who now wore equally vacant expressions.

Coco leapt forward, pointing at her in accusation. “You knew about Morgane. You warned Lou. You’re a witch.”

Madame Labelle winked.

I looked between them in confusion, nostrils burning. Mind reeling. Witch? But Madame Labelle wasn’t a—

Realization rushed in, and hot blood rose to my face.

Fuck.

I was so stupid. So blind. My fists clenched as I pushed to my feet. Madame Labelle’s taunting smile faltered, and even Coco shrank back at the fury in my eyes.

Of course Madame Labelle was a witch.

And Mademoiselle Perrot was Coco.

And Coco was a witch. But not just any witch—a Dame Rouge. An entirely new species of witch, who practiced in blood.

And my wife—the fucking love of my life—was the daughter of La Dame des Sorcières. The heiress of Chateau le Blanc. The goddamned princess of the witches.

And everyone had known. Everyone except me. Even fucking Ansel.

It was too much.

Something snapped inside me. Something permanent. In that second, I was no longer the Chasseur—if I’d ever been a Chasseur in the first place.

Unsheathing my Balisarda, I watched with vindictive pleasure as the others eyed me. Wary. Afraid. The harpist in the corner stopped playing. She stared blankly at the floor, her mouth gaping open. The silence grew eerie—waiting.

“Sit,” I said softly, flicking my gaze to Madame Labelle and Coco. When neither of them moved, I took a step closer. Beau’s hand closed around Coco’s wrist. He tugged her down beside him.

But Madame Labelle remained standing. I turned my dagger to her. “Lou is gone.” I moved the blade—slowly, pointedly—from her face to the empty chair. “Morgane le Blanc took her. Why?”

Her eyes narrowed, flicking to the misshapen black symbols on the table. “If Morgane has indeed taken her—”

“Why?”

I inched the blade closer to her nose, and she frowned. “Please, Captain, this is no way to behave. I will tell you anything you wish to know.”

Reluctantly, I lowered the knife as she dropped to a chair. My blood grew hotter with each tic of my jaw.

“Such an unfortunate turn of events.” She glared up at me, smoothing her skirt in agitation. “I assume the witches revealed your wife’s true identity. Louise le Blanc. The only child of La Dame des Sorcières.”

I nodded stiffly.

Ansel cleared his throat before Madame Labelle could continue. “Begging your pardon, madame, but why have we never heard of Louise le Blanc before now?”

She cast him an appraising look. “Dear boy, Louise was Morgane’s most jealously guarded secret. Even some of the witches didn’t know of her existence.”

“Then how did you?” Coco countered.

“I have many spies at the Chateau.”

“You aren’t welcome there yourself?”

“I’m as welcome there as you are, my dear.”

“Why?” I asked.

She ignored me. Her gaze fell instead to Beau. “What do you know of your father, Your Highness?”

He leaned back and arched a dark brow. Thus far, he’d observed the proceedings with cool detachment, but Madame Labelle’s question seemed to catch him by surprise. “The same as everyone else, I suppose.”

“Which is?”

He shrugged. Rolled his eyes. “He’s a notorious whoremonger. Despises his wife. Funds the toe-rag Archbishop’s crusade against these magnificent creatures.” He stroked Coco’s spine appreciatively. “He’s devilishly handsome, shit at politics, and a piss poor father. Should I go on . . . ? I fail to see how any of this is relevant.”