Chapter Thirteen #2
“If you refuse to tell me, I can always confront Manon directly. As she has physically assaulted me once already, I must take certain precautions.” I cocked my head to the side, debating.
“Perhaps if I report her violence to the city guard and have her arrested, we could communicate once she is behind bars?”
The effect of my threat was immediate. Anais sat up straighter, her jaw clenching. It reminded me of the first time I’d clashed with her, during the Vainglory: how she’d rescinded her claws as soon as I’d brought up Manon, dropping her knives without even attempting to use them.
I’d been relying on a similar reaction to get her to bend now, too. Maybe it was cruel, my weaponizing her obvious feelings for the other maiden when their relationship was so clearly in tatters, but…
Manon had always been Anais’s weakness. And, for the moment at least, she was one I needed to exploit.
I felt myself soften, just a fraction, as the other silkwitch spoke again. “It is not Noé—the person you are referring to,” Anais admitted reluctantly. Quieting, she tilted her head, her expression turning coaxing. “If I tell you, you must promise not to pursue justice against her.”
I laughed. “Anais, she tried to kill me.”
The other silkwitch pouted her bottom lip. “She did not mean it.”
She went on before I could protest, one foot swinging girlishly over the side of her chair.
“Information in exchange for exoneration,” Anais said sweetly. “That is my offer.” She tsked at my responding glare, sweeping her eyes gracefully away from mine. “Oh, don’t act so righteous. You knew there would be a bargain, coming to me.”
I had, though as selfish as she was, I assumed whatever currency I paid would be doled out to her—not on behalf of another. Regarding her, I asked, “Does she know you still care for her?”
Anais’s smile was thin, the closed-mouth snarl of a viper.
“Does your betrothed know you would prefer his closest friend?” I did not wince at her jab, though it had the beneficial effect of immediately drying up the measure of sympathy that had welled within me at her previous disclosure.
Her face slackening, she eyed me flatly. “Give me your answer.”
This time, the eye roll was mine. Sitting back in my seat, I twisted my engagement ring, feeling the band slide like a lock around my knuckle. “Fine. I’ll leave Manon be. Now go on.”
The response seemed to pacify Anais. Relaxing, she plucked again at her caul. “A few days ago, I received a rather unexpected visitor,” she started. “Bastian Alaire.”
As if in a test, her gaze cut to mine. I managed to remain still under the lens of her assessment, though within me, my heart gave a kick at her confession. Bastian.
It appeared my future father-in-law had been busy since we’d last spoken.
“Mr. Alaire confided in me that your triumph in his son’s competition had been achieved only through trickery—that you had cheated your way through the trials, and infatuated poor Noé so thoroughly that he refused to acknowledge your corrupting influence on him,” Anais went on.
“He made me a…proposition, shall we call it. Namely, that if I could dispose of you before your wedding day without being caught, he would allow me to take your place at the altar.”
She cleared her throat primly.
“Bastian did not say as much, but I gather I was not the only silkwitch he went to with his offer. The rest of our former competitors were contacted, too.” Her lashes flickered as her eyes swept appraisingly over me. “He must be truly desperate to be rid of you.”
The final bit she uttered with a sort of grudging respect, as though she were impressed by how deeply I’d managed to bury myself in Bastian’s side. I could barely appreciate her admiration. My mind clouded, her words echoing within my skull. Dispose of you…Take your place at the altar.
The test is finished…when you lose. Bastian’s remark from the coach came back to me—and yet, apparently, my future father-in-law did not have the patience to simply wait for me to fail.
No, he had designed my end himself. Had set a trap while my back was turned, after I’d thought he and I had agreed to a bargain.
Swallowing, I replied to her. “So, all of them are after me.”
Anais shrugged, nonchalant. “All the girls who are not yet engaged, certainly.”
“And you?”
Her laugh took me aback, the sharp trill of birdsong.
“Oh, how quaint,” she answered. “You think Adélard would allow me to walk free, if I further shamed the Drake line by leaving him for Noé?” She clicked her tongue, her expression reproachful.
“Ironically, my dear Cecilia, I may be one of the only people you can trust.”
I ignored the tug of pity which pulled at my sternum as she twisted her ring.
On the one hand, I had no doubts that the Cloister Master would make for an even crueler husband than his brute of a nephew; on the other, it was likely only Anais’s fear of him which was currently keeping her dagger away from my throat.
In this particular situation, the benefits seemed to outweigh the costs.
“Speaking of trust,” I said instead, “I have another question for you. The night of the Midway Ball, during the competition. You lost an item which belonged to you.”
“An item…” Anais’s brow creased at my abrupt change in subject, then smoothed with understanding. “My gloves?” she chirped, delighted. “Have you found them?”
Her features were bright; she seemed to have put aside our previous topics of conversation entirely. Truly, the depths of her vanity amazed me. “I want to know when you last saw them,” I answered carefully.