Rook(88)

“I was surprised to see your name on my invitation, René. Surprised and pleased, of course. But where is your charming fiancée?” LeBlanc’s grin was a long, thin gash in his face as he tightened his grip on the limp girl beside him; she made the slightest motion of leaning away. “I was so looking forward to seeing her before I go.”

René drained a glass of wine. “But surely you will not go before the entertainment, Monsieur? We have made such special plans, and with you in mind.” LeBlanc glanced toward the windows and their spectacular nighttime views of the Sunken City, where a full, rising moon hung low on the horizon between buildings.

“Yes,” he said, smile becoming contemplative. “Fate has destined a very entertaining night for us.” The girl at his side squeaked slightly as her arm was squeezed. “And the new Festival of Fate is also cause for celebration. Though those who set themselves against the Goddess may not find it so. Do you not agree, René?”

“Oh, yes. When the gates open, that will be very amusing. I noticed the armed men at the street door. You are careful with our assets, Cousin, that they do not receive too much celebration.”


“We worship Fate, René, but we do not tempt her. Your little fiancée should take those words to heart.”

“I am certain she will.”





Sophia slid down the wall, crouching on the floor, staring at the handwriting on the parchment until her eyes watered, aching to blink. The name on the page pierced straight through her chest. She could have countered Spear’s arguments, every single one of them, disputed his interpretation of events. Except for the document in her hand. How could this be? And why? Someone knocked at the door, but she ignored it. She looked up at Spear, questioning.

“They’re smugglers,” he said simply, “and Bonnard was Ministre of Trade. He was going to shut them down.”

The knocking came again. “Mademoiselle?” It was émile.

Spear whispered quickly, “Tom was looking into Hasard’s background before he ever got to Bellamy House. He made me swear to look out for you, to find the proof, and I promised him I would. But Hasard has been reeling you in like a fish on a hook ever since. He wants the Red Rook, Sophie, and he and LeBlanc, they know it’s not Tom. They’ve known for a while now. They want you, and they want you in the Sunken City, with your hands dirty with prison filth. It’s a … it’s like a religious thing with LeBlanc, but the Hasards just want their fortune. Hasard convinced you to wait until La Toussaint because LeBlanc wants to make a ritual out of you. LeBlanc took Madame to the Tombs for insurance, and the price for getting her out was to bring you to the city. And little by little, Hasard convinced you to tell him everything …”

Some part of her mind registered that émile was still knocking. “Mademoiselle? Are you there?”

She sat all the way down on the thick carpet, staring at the huge, looping R. She was stunned, blindsided, hit so hard she couldn’t think. No matter what Spear said, no matter how she untangled truth from lies, the reality was that the man she knew as René Hasard and the man who had signed the paper in her hand could not coexist. He wasn’t real. Nothing was real. This moment was unreal. And she’d known he was good at the game, known she was an easy target. She’d seen the danger and even guarded herself against it. And what had she done in the end? Chased him down. Offered herself up. He wasn’t just good, he was a master. She’d known deep down that it didn’t make sense. She had been incredibly stupid. Because she’d wanted to be. She’d wanted to believe. Because she’d wanted him.

“Did you send the hotelier?” she whispered.

Spear didn’t answer. The room sat quiet, the knocking on the door long stopped. She discovered Spear’s hand near her head.

“Here, Sophie. Come up here.”

She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet, put his arm around her, guided her to the edge of the bed, where they sat, her face against his chest. He held her, his other hand stroking her back, up and down. Spear was so big you could drown in him. She wished she could drown.

“Here’s what I think we should do, Sophie,” he said quietly. She could feel the words in the chest beneath her ear. “LeBlanc will know exactly what you mean to do. He’ll be expecting you to leave the party and come back, like you planned with Hasard. So let’s go now, as soon as we can. We’ll do what we’ve done before with the coffins, before anyone is the wiser. Did you ever mention the coffins to any of them?”

She wasn’t sure. She didn’t think so.

“LeBlanc knows you’re coming, but he thinks it’s from one direction and not the other. We’ll take the tunnels out, and if something goes wrong, there’s always plan B and the forged passes and the tickets to Spain. We’ll get to the coast, just like we’ve done before.”

No, Sophia was thinking. You don’t understand. You don’t know what I was really going to do at the prison. What I thought René was going to help me do at the prison. Plans are in motion that cannot be undone.

Or were they? If they involved René, then perhaps those plans were never going to happen in the first place. Spear had a finger on her cheek now, sliding it down to beneath her chin.

“We’ll get Orla and Bellamy, take Jennifer to her parents, and then you and me and Tom, we’ll all go away together, maybe up west, or to one of the islands, somewhere they won’t bother to look for us.”