Chapters (45)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Acknowledgements
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
Poppy looked him boldly in the eyes and said, “I want nothing to do with Queen Vesper’s society! I never did!”
Before Kex could reply, they were all distracted by a chortle that burst from Batch. “Queen Vesper, did I hear you say?” he asked. “Queen Vesper?”
“Don’t touch her name with your foul tongue, irkmeat!” cried the gent.
Batch laughed and a vicious smile transformed his face. All traces of the woebegone sniveler were gone in an instant and he became, again, the predator that would have torn Poppy’s wings from her back without a thought. “Tell Queen Vesper that Batch Hangnail sends his regards.”
EIGHTEEN
EIGHTEEN
Behind a painted screen, Lady Vesper heard the name “Batch Hangnail” and her lips and knuckles went white.
“Lady?” ventured Kex when she didn’t respond.
“Aye, Lord Winterkill,” she said, an unaccustomed catch in her musical voice. “An imp . . . is it?”
“Aye. There’s no question, that lass is in league with him. What company she keeps! Imps and crows! It’s shocking my cousin is consorting with—”
“Sir,” she cut in impatiently. “What manner of imp is he?”
“Foulest I’ve ever beheld, Lady. Encrusted with filth! But strange—his whole tail was covered in the finest diamond rings!”
Kex couldn’t see his lady. Indeed, he hadn’t laid eyes on her since before the play, when she had retired to her chamber and refused to come out. If he could have seen her, he might scarcely have recognized her. The hair was the least of it—it was tight-tied in three layers of silk kerchiefs and further bound in pearl strands, with Bellatrix’s circlet at its crown. She might have gone out in such a headdress and inspired a new fashion, but for the fact that it . . . wriggled. No, it was her face that would have shocked him.
She had drained of all color. Her lips were smashed together and her eyes wild, and all her beauty was quite lost amid the fury, disbelief, outrage, and fear that moved over it fast as storm winds.
“Do you know where they have gone?” came her voice from behind the screen, each syllable sharp as a knife.
“The lass mentioned Issrin Ev, my blossom.”
“Lord Winterkill, I thank you for this news. Kindly leave me now.” Vesper held one hand out to him from behind the screen and he kissed it hungrily.
After he left she drew back her hand and wiped the drool from it, her lip curled in disgust, the rest of her face contorted with rage. “The imp is alive?” she seethed, grabbing a gilt hand mirror off her vanity table. “Yet alive?” she demanded, peering into it. Her own face was all that looked out, but she seemed to squint beyond her reflection, searching for something deeper.