Chapter Nineteen #2
Oh. She looked away from his mouth, but water cascaded from his wet hair, making it darker, more like Jack’s true shade. Her gaze dipped to his bare chest, the V of lean muscle carved from his hips disappearing beneath the water. She’d never been pressed against a man like this, never
felt the searing heat of someone through wet cotton.
“There’s a dirt path in the thicket, only accessible by the river.” His voice was husky, his gray eyes unyielding. “If someone
came for us from the cliffs, we’d take that path south. And if they came from the river, we’d follow the one you and Caleb
took, all the way to the stables, where we’d mount my fastest horse. And if they surrounded us, I’d borrow the relic”—he pressed
a hand over her rapidly beating heart, over the coin—“And I’d burn them. I’d burn the whole fucking Society before I’d let
them take you again.”
This was Jack, who’d laughed at her in Grimsbane. Who’d sent her into an ambush at Clara’s shop. Who had freed her from prison
only because he needed her conjury. This was Jack, yet Emmy’s limbs were liquid now, molding themselves against him. He knew
what Grimsbane was like. How minutes morphed to decades, and grief fermented to something lethal. He knew, and yet he’d refused
to leave Grimsbane without her, because he was willing to suffer to have what he needed for his revenge.
And he needed her. That was why he was protecting her, yet her naive, lonely heart was leaning into his touch. It was maddening, how much she
wanted to believe he’d have her back. But she could not put that sort of trust in anyone again.
She also, unfortunately, could not bring herself to swim away.
With a surprisingly gentle touch, Jack pushed a lock of wet hair off her forehead. “I’ll threaten violence every day if you’ll
look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I don’t ruin everything I touch.” His gaze dropped to her lips, dangerously close. He was a match, and she was tinder,
recklessly waiting to burn.
His hand was still pressed to her heart, and she trembled beneath it. He had to feel how quickly her heart was racing.
“You’re shivering.” Frowning, he turned away, the cool river replacing the heat of him. “C’mon.”
A rush of disappointment broke the spell.
It was a blessing, really. Rose had drawn him with countless girls. If Emmy had succumbed to his charm, he’d have teased her
relentlessly about it. Perhaps she should make his princely face a bit grotesque to prevent herself from losing focus again.
Focus. That was what she needed. Not distracting touches.
As they pulled themselves onto the boulder, Emmy forced herself to summon the same nonchalance as Jack, which would have been
far easier if he’d put on a damn shirt.
Borrowing the relic, he lit a small bonfire, his silver-black flames practically glittering in the night. Emmy leaned closer
to the heat, doing her best to pretend being near him had no effect on her at all. “We don’t have much time left.”
“Eight days down; twenty remaining.” His gaze flitted over her wet slip before he averted his eyes. “But we’ve earned their
trust. And we still have three more balls, including the masquerade Mrs. Stratton convinced you to throw here.”
So everyone could gawk at Mistfield. But it was a perfect opportunity for Jimmy to showcase his work, so Emmy had agreed.
“There’s also that fundraiser Grace is throwing.” Just thinking of Grace playing the philanthropic hostess made Emmy irrationally
angry.
“And a flurry of smaller events, assuming we finally get invited to some.” In the silvery shadows of his flames, his face
was grim. “Our remaining targets won’t be easy.”
Like the chancellor. “Can a triumvirate member be removed from power?”
“If the Society calls his leadership into question, they can hold a vote to remove him, yes.” He shrugged. “It rarely happens, though. Only another triumvirate member can call for such a vote, and they tend to protect each other.”
“I told you they’d be plotting,” Caleb sighed as he splashed over to the boulder, hoisting himself atop it. Jimmy followed,
spraying Emmy with water as he shook out his hair, grinning.
But all traces of Jack’s playfulness were gone now. “We need to start a war,” he declared. “Between the chancellor and the
keeper. Windsor’s even-keeled, but he can’t possibly like having two Strattons on the triumvirate.”
How easily he returned to their scheming, as if that moment in the river hadn’t rattled him in the slightest. Meanwhile, Emmy
could still feel every place they’d touched.
“Mrs. Stratton said something at the Enchanted Pursuit.” Her voice was still too breathy for her liking, but she continued.
“She blamed Keeper Windsor for not letting her husband do more about the weakening conjury. Maybe we can use that?”
“But Clara was responsible for the weakened conjury,” Jimmy pointed out. “It shouldn’t be a problem anymore.”
Emmy stared at the black flames. The pieces were there; she could practically see them snapping together, if only she could
figure out how. “We only need the chancellor to think Windsor is going after him. Then he’ll get aggressive, like Jack said.”
“And we’ll catch him doing something heinous.” Jack’s gaze cut to Caleb. “You earned points with him tonight. Do you think
you can convince him that Keeper Windsor is talking to Society members, seeing who else is against having two Strattons on
the triumvirate?”
“It’s hard to imagine the chancellor listening to me again. But I can try.”
“Make him listen,” Jack insisted. “Better yet, we should start rumors about the Strattons attempting to rule over the Society alone. Let Windsor think Stratton is coming after him, so he can have the Society all to himself. And let Stratton think Windsor is coming after him, for stacking the triumvirate with Strattons.”
“It could work,” Caleb mused. “He’ll have more need of a telepath if he’s threatened.”
“I can try and befriend their staff to gather secrets,” Jimmy offered. “As a ‘building design specialist,’ no one knows where
I stand in the social hierarchy, which works in our favor.”
“Not a bad idea.” Jack reached into the fire—Fontaine flames don’t burn those who wielded them, Emmy had to remind herself—and
pulled out a blackened stick to scratch four words onto the rock.
Pride. Power. Greed. Vanity.
“Pride was Clara’s weakness. And pride brought her down.” He crossed out the word. “If the chancellor believes someone’s trying
to take his power and influence, it just might be his downfall. Which leaves Oliver and Grace.”
Greed and vanity. “What if we get Oliver in trouble first?” Emmy asked. “Caleb can tell the chancellor that Keeper Windsor
framed his son.”
Caleb held up a finger. “One problem: Oliver quit gambling.”
“We can’t tempt him?” Emmy had seen enough gamblers back home to know it wasn’t so easy to quit. “We keep waiting for him
to invite Nathaniel to a card game, but maybe Nathaniel should invite him. There must be one he can’t refuse.”
“I nearly forgot.” Jack grinned at Caleb. “The Bronze Door.”
Caleb groaned, and Jimmy raised his brows. “What the hell is the Bronze Door?”
“It’s a secret gambling hall for New York’s wealthiest,” Caleb explained. “Rumor has it that fifty grand changes hands there
every night. But another problem, Fontaine: Didn’t you and Stratton get banned for life?”
“Jack’s banned. Not Nathaniel.” A taunting smile lit Jack’s face. “But if Nathaniel bribes the manager to let Ollie back in, he won’t
be able to resist. And when he cheats—”
“If,” Caleb interrupted. “The Bronze Door is full of politicians and other influential ordinaries. He’d have to be a fool to
cheat there.”
“He’ll cheat.” Jack reached into his pocket and thrust something in front of Caleb. The enchanted playing card. “With conjury.
And we’ll make sure he’s caught.”
“Would that be reason enough to be voted off the triumvirate?” Emmy asked.
“Using conjury in front of ordinaries? Powerful ordinaries?” Jack leaned against the rock. “They’d throw him in Grimsbane.”
His excitement was infectious, but Emmy couldn’t trust their plans. Not yet.
“We still have Grace.” Emmy pointed to the final word. Vanity. “I can’t just get under her skin for three weeks. We need something that will ruin her.”
“I’m sure she has plenty of secrets,” Jack mused. “If only we had an invisible maid on our side, so we could learn what they
are.”
“Not a chance.” As much as Emmy liked Mary, she didn’t want her to do their bidding.
“Loath as I am to involve another person,” Caleb said, “I’ve listened to Mary’s thoughts. She despises Grace. I’m sure she’d
be glad to help.”
“C’mon, Ems. The poor girl probably thinks you hate her, with how few hours she works.” Jimmy nudged Emmy. “You don’t have
to tell her everything. Just see if she learned anything useful in the time she worked for Grace.”
Ask Grace’s former maid about Grace. If Emmy’d had any better ideas, she would have refused. “Fine. I’ll at least broach the
subject.”
“Then it’s settled.” Jack’s glittering eyes found hers, and despite herself, she flushed from head to toe. “Let’s have some
fun and ruin three more lives.”