An Affair of Poisons(95)
His blood.
Agony flays me open like the smoke beasts’ claws. He took a dagger for me. And he gave me the means to kill Mother. Even though I tricked him, and condemned him, and said so many awful things.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Forgive me.”
After Gris comes my sister. Marguerite didn’t attempt to fight when she was apprehended and marched to the Chatelet. She didn’t even look up to say goodbye. The last I’ll ever see of her is the glass-eyed expression she wore when she sagged over Mother’s corpse.
We may have retaken the city, but a small part of me can’t help but feel defeated.
My entire family is gone.
Father’s voice comes swiftly, right at my ear. I can almost feel the whisper of his breath. I’m with you always. And I’ve never been so proud.
The door snicks open, and Josse’s beautiful, moonlit face appears through the dust and dark. Despite the shadows, I can tell his skin is glowing and golden rather than stained with Lesage’s sickness, and he stands, tall and strong, like the statues in the Tuileries. He squints across the shop, and when his gooseberry-green eyes fall on me, warmth and light and hope tingle through my body.
He’s alive. He came for me.
“I thought I might find you here,” he says as he pads across the millinery. “Don’t you know it’s impolite to heal someone and vanish? How am I supposed to offer my thanks?” He collapses beside me, and the shadows highlight the sharp planes of his cheeks. His hair hangs in his eyes, painted black by the darkness. He catches me staring and shoots me a mischievous grin that makes my toes curl inside my boots. “I intend to thank you for a very, very long time.”
I try to laugh, but it catches in my throat and sounds more like a sniffle. The grin quickly slides from Josse’s face, and his brows pull together. “Mira, are you crying?”
“No.” I wipe my tattered sleeve quickly across my eyes.
“What’s wrong? Are you injured?” He cups my chin and sweeps his fingers below my lashes. Then he pulls me against his chest and his hands rove up and down my sides, inspecting every inch of me.
I slip my arms around his waist and clutch his tunic. As if I am a listing ship and he is my mooring. “I’m fine.”
“What, then?”
“Gris.” I try to say more, but the name alone slashes through me, reopening my wounds. After several shuddering breaths, I quietly add, “My mother. Marguerite. All of it. I know it needed to end this way, but they were still my family. It was still the only life I knew.”
Josse’s hold tightens and his lips brush feather-soft against my temple. “We’ll make a new life, you and I.”
A few short weeks ago, I would have laughed at the impossibility of his suggestion—a princeling and a poisoner. But now it seems like the only constant point on the horizon. The brightest guiding star. “And what will that life look like?” I ask.
Josse presses another kiss to my temple and then at my ear, trailing slowly and maddeningly down my neck. “I shall wake you every morning like this.”
“That would be acceptable,” I say with a shiver.
“Then I will obviously do the cooking, since we ought to take advantage of my kitchen skills.” I laugh and he continues, “After which you will spend the rest of the day ordering me about your laboratory, and I won’t once complain, because you’re brilliant and beautiful, and watching you work is like watching a master painter at the easel.”
“I might even let you help,” I say. “And of course I’ll teach Fran?oise and Anne.”
Josse stiffens and falls silent.
“What happened? Are they injured? Or unwell?”
“Louis sent them to live with their aunt, the Marchioness de Thianges.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He says we’re in no position to raise little girls. He’s given me other duties.”
I cock a brow.
“He asked me to captain the police.”
“Josse, that’s wonderful! Aren’t you happy?” I shake his shoulders to knock the somber expression from his face.
“I think I will be once I recover from the shock. I would have liked to see my sisters before they left. To ensure they’re well. So they know I didn’t choose to send them away.”
I lean up on my knees and press my forehead to his. Pressing my strength into him, as he just did for me. “They know you adore them. And we’ll visit them soon. Imagine how they’ll coo over your officer’s uniform. They’ll be so proud.”
He nods and summons a small smile.
I grip the standing collar of his doublet, crawl onto his lap, and kiss his scruffy cheeks. He traces his finger over my lips, and goose bumps ripple through my skin. Then he repeats the motion with his lips. I return his kiss with a ferocity that thrills me, exploring his jaw line, his neck, the tender area beneath his ear.
Josse groans and lifts me up onto the counter, hitching my petticoats above my knees so my legs encircle him. My elbow knocks against a gallipot and we laugh against each other’s lips as it clatters to the ground. Camphor floats into the air, dusting us like pollen, but we don’t pull away, not even to breathe. His hands glide up my thigh, trail down my neck, and gently graze my breasts as they heave against the stays of my bodice.