An Affair of Poisons(42)

“You’re alive,” he chokes out. “How? Where have you been? Why are you dressed as a maid?”

“Thought I’d try my hand at cleaning.” I flash a small grin, but Gris continues blinking as if I might vanish. Tentatively, he reaches out to touch my cheek. I lean in, the gentle brush of his fingertips sending shock waves through my body. I place my hand over his and a cry bursts from my throat—relief and comfort and something I can’t put into words. Like waking from a horrifying nightmare to a world of brilliant, golden sunlight.

“You’re alive,” he says again, pulling me into his arms. “Everyone will be so relieved. La Voisin said the royals refused to negotiate for your life and slaughtered you to send us a message. The Society’s been in a frenzy ever since, planning our retaliation.”

Lies. Like always. “Mother is the one who refused to negotiate for my life.”

Gris lifts a heavy brow as he guides me to a stool. “What do you mean?”

“When the royals sent word they’d captured me, she gave them leave to slaughter me.”

He sucks in a breath and shakes his head, his honey-colored curls flying. “No. She wouldn’t—”

“Are you certain?”

After a long pause, he collapses onto the stool next to mine like an empty bellows. “I’m sure she thought it was the only option. Or that rescuing you would put the Society at too great a risk. Or maybe it was a show of faith—she knew you could escape. Speaking of, how did you manage it? The royals would never let you go unless …” His voice takes on a note of wonder. “Did you kill them?”

“I took care of them,” I say tightly, clutching my stays to push down the discomfort thumping in my belly. Technically, it’s the truth, but Gris would never guess that I literally took care of our enemies.

“So why come to the lab? Why not go straight to La Voisin and tell her the good news? It was wrong of her to abandon you, but now that the royals are disposed of …” Gris shoots to his feet. “This will change everything.”

“I’m not returning to the Shadow Society,” I interject.

“Why not? Why are you here then?” His gaze wanders around the ravaged laboratory, stopping on the overflowing satchels.

“Mother’s so obsessed with securing the city, she’s forgotten our most important duty is to the people. While she’s busy doling out poison and vengeance, I plan to resume making tinctures and curatives, and I need supplies to do it.”

“But the unrest is only temporary. Until we quiet the dissenters.”

“And when will that happen?”

Gris buries his fingers in his hair. “What would you have your mother do? The nobles swear fealty then betray her right and left. She asked them to contribute funds to rebuild the merchants’ shops and homes that were burned during the procession. Not only did they refuse, but they organized against her! They’ve left her no choice. The only thing we can think to do is threaten them with Viper’s Venom.”

A small intake of breath comes from behind the cauldrons. Gris’s eyes narrow and he turns.

“You see!” I clench Gris’s shoulder and spin him back around. He nearly topples from his stool. “It will never cease! And what happens to the common folk in the meantime? They’re forgotten, as they always have been. I have no wish to be a part of Mother’s killings and carnage. I want to give life.” Make amends, I think, but I know better than to admit this aloud. Gris would argue that we have nothing to be sorry for. “I won’t force you to help me against your will. Just don’t tell Mother where I am. Or what I’m doing. At least not yet.”

Gris purses his lips and stares at me like he did the first time I suggested we alter some of Mother’s recipes.

“I’m not doing anything contrary to the Society,” I assure him. “Only what we’ve always done. Think of the people.”

Eventually, he nods. “What do you need me to do? And please tell me you weren’t going to stroll past the porters with all that?” He points to the bursting satchels.

“It isn’t so much… .”

“Devil’s horns, it’s a good thing I caught you, or you really would be dead.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, then casts me a withering look. “I’ll deliver your supplies, as well as some kettles and cauldrons so you’re not limited to small quantities of medication. Just tell me where to find you.”

“Thank you!” I throw my arms around him and kiss his cheek. “You can have my portion of meat for a month.”

That makes him laugh; it’s the same silly promise I made when I wanted him to scrub my share of the cauldrons when we were children. I look adoringly up at his face. With that broad smile crinkling his eyes, he almost looks like his old self—if I can ignore the purple bags.

Gris ruffles the remnants of my hair. “We’re family. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Mira. You know that.”

His tender words slide between my ribs like a dagger and the grin melts off my lips. How can you betray him like this?

But it isn’t a betrayal so much as a small omission about my involvement with the royals—and it’s for the greater good, like Mother always claims.

“I’m working in an abandoned millinery on the rue de Navarine in Montmartre. Right between two gambling dens.”