Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1)(47)

Footsteps stormed up and down the corridor, and more voices added to the cacophony.

“He’s gone!”

“Search the Tower!”

But the library door remained—miraculously—closed. Praying it would remain that way, I heaved Ansel into one of the reading chairs. He blinked at me, his eyes struggling to focus, before slurring, “Where are we?”

“The library.” I threw myself into the chair next to him and pulled a book at random from the shelf. Twelve Treatises of Occult Extermination. Of course. My hands shook with the effort not to rip the hideous pages from their binding. “We were just in the infirmary with Father Orville and Co— er, Mademoiselle Perrot. You brought me down here to—to—” I tossed Twelve Treatises on the nearest table and reached for the leather-bound Bible beside it. “To educate me. That’s it.”

“W-What?”

I groaned as the door burst open, and my husband and Jean Luc pounded in.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Jean Luc advanced toward me with murder in his eyes.

My husband stepped forward, but Ansel was already there. He swayed slightly on his feet, but his eyes sharpened at Jean Luc’s approach. “What are you talking about? What’s happened?”

“The prisoner escaped,” Jean Luc snarled. Beside him, my husband stilled, his nostrils flaring. Shit. The smell. It still clung to Ansel and me like a second skin, trailing from the empty cell straight to us. “His cell is empty. The guards were knocked unconscious.”

I was doomed. Good and truly doomed this time. Gripping the Bible tighter to keep my hands from trembling, I met each of their gazes with forced calm. At least the Chasseurs would burn me. Not a drop of my blood would be spilled. I savored that small victory.

My husband watched me through narrowed eyes. “What . . . is that smell?”

More footsteps thudded outside, and Coco skidded into the room before I could answer. A fresh wave of sickly-sweet air washed over us at her arrival, and my heart lodged firmly in my throat.

“I overhead the priests talking about the prisoner’s escape!” Her breath came out in short pants, and she clutched her side. When her eyes found mine, however, she nodded reassuringly and straightened, ensuring her white healer’s robes still covered every inch of her skin. “I came to see if I could help.”

Jean Luc’s nose wrinkled in distaste at the reek emanating from her. “Who are you?”

“Brie Perrot.” She swept into a curtsy, rapidly regaining her composure. “I’m the new healer in the infirmary.”

He frowned, unconvinced. “Then you know healers aren’t allowed free rein of the Tower. You shouldn’t be down here, especially with a prisoner roaming free.”

Coco skewered him with a pointed look before appealing to my husband instead. “Captain Diggory, your wife accompanied me earlier while I read the patients Proverbs. Ansel escorted her. Isn’t that right, Ansel?”

God, she was brilliant.

Ansel blinked at us, confusion clouding his eyes once more. “I—yes.” He frowned and shook his head, obviously trying to account for the gap in his memories. “You took a bath, but we—we did go to the infirmary.” His eyes narrowed in concentration. “I . . . I prayed with Father Orville.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, hoping Ansel’s memories stayed muddled.

“He can confirm?” my husband asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Charming. However, that doesn’t explain why the cell reeked of magic.” Clearly irritated by Coco’s dismissal, Jean Luc glowered between the three of us. “Or the unconscious guards.”

Coco fixed him with a razor-sharp smile. “Unfortunately, I was called away to attend a patient before I could instruct Madame Diggory in washing properly. She and Ansel left shortly after.”

My husband’s eyes nearly burned my face. “Naturally, you came here instead of returning to our room.”

I willed myself to look repentant, returning the Bible to the table. With any luck, we might just be able to survive this mess. “Ansel wanted to teach me some verses, and I . . . I went to see him in his cell. Bas.” Fidgeting with a lock of hair, I looked up at him through lowered lashes. “You said he might be hanged, and I wanted to speak with him . . . before. One last time. I’m sorry.”

He said nothing. Only glared at me.

“And the guards?” Jean Luc asked.

I rose and gestured to my small frame. “You really think I could knock two fully grown men unconscious?”

My husband’s reply came instantaneously. “Yes.”

Under different circumstances, I would’ve been flattered. Now, however, his unwavering faith in my abilities was damnably inconvenient.

“They were unconscious when I arrived,” I lied. “And Bas was already gone.”

“Why didn’t you inform us at once? Why flee?” Jean Luc’s pale eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward until I was forced to look up at him to maintain eye contact. I scowled.

Fine. If he wanted to intimidate, I could play along.

I broke our gaze and looked down at my hands, chin quivering. “I—I confess I’m sometimes inhibited by the weaknesses of my sex, monsieur. When I saw Bas had escaped, I panicked. I know it’s no excuse.”