An Affair of Poisons(36)

“I’m glad you feel better,” I say, but my voice comes out hoarse. She squeezes tighter and I close my eyes, desperate to store this feeling, this wholeness, until the sharp clang of metal makes my eyelids fly open.

I jerk away from Anne, Marie curses, and Josse leaps to his feet.

“Unbelievable!” The police captain towers at the entrance of the sewer chamber, his sword vibrating at his feet.

My stomach drops.

Josse hasn’t time to keep his promise.

It’s morning.

And the officer has returned to kill me.





10



JOSSE


“Would you care to explain why your sisters are embracing our prisoner?” Desgrez seethes.

“It’s about time you arrived,” Louis interjects. “It’s an outrage. The bastard has—”

“She healed the girls,” I cut in, patting Fran?oise’s head and flashing Desgrez a timid smile. Hoping it’s all the explanation he’ll need. Praying it will somehow change his mind.

His face crumples—with rage, yes, but other, more unexpected emotions simmer beneath the surface. Hurt glistens in his eyes. Betrayal drips from his downturned lips.

Which is so much worse.

I loosen my collar, but I can’t catch my breath. My heart pounds so loudly, Madame Bissette can probably hear it from her patisserie. Slowly, Desgrez bends and retrieves his blade. When he straightens, his features are ironed into a steely expression. He adjusts his grip on the rapier and clenches his jaw. I have less than ten seconds to make a decision before Desgrez makes it for me.

I accidentally look at Mirabelle and she stares back, her eyes as round as saucers. You promised, she screams without saying a word.

Behind her, Fran?oise’s lip begins to tremble. Anne grasps for Mirabelle’s hand. I know what my father or his ministers would do: rip the promised freedom from her hands like the morsels of bread they pledged to the peasants. But that’s not who I want to be. I am a different sort of royal, and if I want the girls to follow suit, I must lead the way. Stand for something.

Be strong, Josse.

I blow out a breath, wipe my clammy palms down my breeches, and stride across the chamber to Desgrez. “Can we speak in private?”

He scowls but allows me to hook my arm around his shoulders and lead him into the tunnel. It would be cleanest and easiest if I let him dispose of Mirabelle. Her people did murder my father—even though she claims innocence—and if I set her free, she could easily betray us to her mother. I must think of my sisters’ safety above all else.

But my sisters wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for her.

“Well?” Desgrez shoves me off as soon as we round the bend. “What could you possibly have to say?”

“I’m sorry.” Then I kick out and slam my boot into his wrist. As his blade clatters to the ground, I smash my fist against his temple. A low whine leaks from his lips and he crumples to the wet stone floor. I cushion his fall as best I can. “I really am sorry,” I whisper before sprinting back the way we came. He’ll come around in minutes if we’re lucky. Seconds if we’re not.

“We have to go now,” I shout as I burst back into the chamber.

Louis clambers to his feet, his eyes wild. “Where is Captain Desgrez? What have you done now?”

He tries to block my path, but I plow through him. “It doesn’t concern you.” I offer Mirabelle my hand and pull her up. “I hope you can run.”

“Traitor!” Louis bellows. He retrieves his rapier from his small pile of belongings and levels it at me. His shoulders heave and sweat stipples his brow. The steel blade glints in the torchlight, the edges sharp and flashing. “You cannot set her free.”

“Stand aside. I don’t have time to fight you,” I say, but we both know I couldn’t best him with a sword if I had all the time in the world.

“Get back.” Louis flicks his wrist, and his blade whizzes past my cheek, pausing just below my chin. Anne and Fran?oise gasp, and Mirabelle shrinks behind me.

I roar with frustration and reach for the dagger in my boot. It won’t do much good against his rapier, but Mirabelle and I can’t be in these tunnels when Desgrez wakes. He won’t hesitate to kill her, and he’ll make me wish I were dead. I’m about to lunge when something white streaks through my periphery. Marie dives into Louis with a bloodcurdling cry and they careen sideways, crashing into the stone wall. Louis groans and his rapier spins off into a puddle.

“Go!” Marie gasps. “Get her out!”

I gape at Madame Royale for half a second, then tighten my fingers around Mirabelle’s wrist and dash into the tunnels. We sprint blindly through the dark, chased by the echo of our boots. What have you done? The words pound in my ears. You betrayed your best friend. Endangered your sisters.

Yet still I keep running, the rightness of my choice spurring me on. A life for a life. Three lives, if we’re truly keeping count.

I emerge through the floor hatch into the patisserie, pull Mirabelle up behind me, and nod to Madame Bissette as we bolt for the door. But the old woman takes one look at Mirabelle’s sparse dress and lurches after us.

“Oh no you don’t, you wicked, sneaking codpiece!” She drops the trapdoor and flour billows into the air. While I cough and stumble, she charges through the haze like a wolf through the snow. “What did I say about bringing whores to my shop?” She catches a strand of Mirabelle’s hair between her gnarled fingers and sniffs. “Filthy, stinking whore. If she brings lice or vermin …”