Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“What’s wrong?”
“They’re coming. The Crow. At least six of them, maybe more.” His gray eyes are hard, calculating. “My sources say they’ll hit during the celebration when everyone’s distracted. They know Blue will be here.”
My blood turns cold. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Ash glances around the celebration, and I see him catalog potential like someone who’s done this before. “I need to find him.”
I scan the crowd, looking for the distinctive plague doctor mask. The clearing is packed with costumed dancers, all moving and swaying to the hypnotic music. For a moment, I can’t find him anywhere.
Then I see the black leather coat near the far edge of the circle, and my stomach drops instead.
“There,” I point. “By the musicians’ platform.”
Blue stands near the edge of the clearing, but his plague doctor mask hangs loose in his hand instead of covering his face. He’s deep in conversation with a woman whose gown seems to flicker between blue and silver in the mushroom light. She’s standing too close to him, one hand pressed to his chest, speaking urgently with obvious distress.
When she turns slightly, I get a clear view of her face and my stomach drops. I can see tears streaming down her cheeks, but more importantly, I know that face. I’ve seen it every day since I’ve been living at Maison Rouge.
She’s one of the women from the portraits in the main hall.
“What the hell?” I breathe.
Ash follows my gaze and his entire face hardens. “That’s impossible.”
“Who is she?”
“That’s Cordelia Lynd.” Ash’s voice is tight with something between confusion and alarm. “She’s supposed to be dead.”
The woman—Cordelia—grips Blue’s coat with both hands now, speaking urgently. Blue’s posture is tense, his free hand raised as if trying to calm her down, but I can see the way his body angles away from her. Whatever she’s saying has him upset.
I can’t stop staring at the woman. At Cordelia. At whatever the hell she’s supposed to be.
“Come on,” Ash says, starting toward them. “We need to warn him about the Crow.”
We push through the costumed dancers, weaving between a woman in a dress made of peacock feathers and a man wearing an intricate clockwork mask with moving gears. The music continues its hypnotic rhythm, but all I can focus on is the scene unfolding ahead of us.
When we finally reach Blue, he looks up at our approach but doesn’t step away from the woman. He appears carefully calm, giving nothing away.
“Blue,” Ash says without preamble. “We have a problem. The Crow are coming. Tonight. They’ll hit during the celebration when everyone’s distracted.”
Blue’s jaw tightens, but he just nods. “How long?”
“Soon. They know you’ll be here.”
Blue nods and looks at Cordelia. “So I hear.”
“I told you! He’s coming,” Cordelia says. “And it’s not just about tonight. Brutus is building an army to take over Grimlock next . . . just to get back at you.”
Blue glances around the celebration, his mind clearly working through scenarios and exit strategies. The woman beside him wipes at her tears but says nothing, just watches me with curious eyes.
“Saylor needs to go back to the house,” Blue says finally. “Now.”
“What? No.” I look between him and the crying woman who’s supposed to be dead. “I’m not going anywhere until someone explains what the hell is going on.”
Blue raises his hand, making some kind of signal toward the edge of the clearing. Within moments, Hans appears through the crowd, dressed as a medieval knight with chainmail and a sword at his hip. Behind him, I spot Wren dressed as a witch, complete with pointed hat and black robes that somehow make her look even more formidable than usual.
“Take her home,” Blue tells Wren. “Call up security and have them man the doors. Stay with her until I get back.” He turns to Hans. “You’re with me.”
“Blue, you can’t just—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Saylor—”
“I’m not a little girl that needs to be protected. You’ve been training me for this. It’s my fight too.”
“Your poison isn’t going to help here,” he snaps, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him mad . . . losing control . . . and at me.
“I can help. I can fight—”
“This isn’t up for discussion.” There’s a tone that makes it clear arguing would be pointless. “You’re leaving. Now.”
Wren steps forward. “Come along, dear. We’ll get you safely back to the house.”
I want to argue, want to demand answers about why this woman who hangs in a picture in his house can stay but I have to leave, about why Blue won’t look me in the eye, about what the hell any of this means.
My mind spins as I keep my eyes locked on Cordelia.
What the fuck is going on?
“I’ll be back soon,” Blue says, finally meeting my eyes. But there’s something in him I can’t read, something that makes me want to demand answers and run away at the same time.