The doorman announced, “Major Ewald Bitterlich.”

Inside stood Comtesse Eulalie du Blain. The sight of her made Bitterlich’s bowels turn to water and his heart shrivel, but she must answer for what she’d done, not just to him but everyone around her. Her bloodshadow spread behind her like a snail’s slime trail. Darker shadows swam within it, and Bitterlich now had an inkling what they represented: the bloodhollows she managed to steal. Her face was powdered and painted as white as snow, to cover up her hated freckles, as he recalled. Her lips were painted the color of fresh-spilt blood. She caught sight of Bitterlich and her curious expression stretched instantly into the blank-faced smile that courtiers and crocodiles had in common.

“Major Bitterlich,” she said. “What a surprise. I was told a message had arrived for me from home.”

“Not from home,” he said, his voice already rough as if he’d been shouting all day. “From your family. More precisely from your long-lost daughter. Allow me to introduce Rebecca du Blaine, the offspring of our liaison.”

On cue, Rebecca stepped forward, curtsied, and said in a tone that could have frozen flame. “Greetings, Mother.”

It was impossible to say if Eulalie turned pale behind all that powder, but her smile never wavered. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “She’s a Seelenjäger.”

“Thankfully, yes,” Bitterlich said, anger on Rebecca’s behalf burning in contrast to his own deep-rooted dread. “The records show your first child was stillborn, but in fact you had her taken away to be disposed of. I spent the last fortnight tracking down the maid who did it. You told her to throw Rebecca off a cliff, but it turns out she didn’t have the heart. She left the babe at the orphanage, and you pretended to be bereaved.”

Eulalie scoffed. “Who would ever believe a maid’s word over mine? I see what you’re up to. You’re trying to blackmail me, to embarrass me in front of my husband. Well, it won’t work, and you won’t get a wooden penny out of me. My husband knows you tried to rape me.”

“I did no such thing,” Bitterlich said, anger burning through his shame. “And you know it. I was young and I was dumb and I was as lustful as a stoat, but I’d never touched you except that you asked me to.”

“Oh, spare me your indignation,” Eulalie said. “You’re Seelenjäger, barely more than an animal. If I was curious, well, I can be forgiven for that. I was young and innocent, but you … you should have known your place.”

All of Bitterlich’s fur stood on end. Half of him wanted to rip her head off. The other half wanted to run and hide in endless shame. “And then you gelded me,” he spat, words of venom that had been stewing almost fourteen years.