Rosemary and Rue

“Yeah, she knew. I don’t know why she didn’t run.”


“Maybe she didn’t have time . . .” he said. “Did she tell you who she thought was coming for her? Or why they were coming?”

“No. If she knew, she didn’t tell me. But she hired me to find them.” It was technically the truth. He didn’t need to know that she’d bound me, or how tightly the binding held. No one needed to know. “I’m on a case, Devin, and I can’t quit when the person that hired me is dead.”

“You can’t get paid, either.”

“I don’t care.” Money wasn’t the issue anymore; survival was. “She was my friend, and I’m going to do this for her.”

“Are you intending to follow her?” His tone was cold.

Fine: if that was how he wanted to play, that was how we’d play. It was his call. Manuel hadn’t known the details, and I was betting Devin didn’t know them either. “No,” I said, curtly. “If I wanted to die, I wouldn’t commit suicide by handing myself over to anyone that would slit a woman’s throat with an iron blade.”

Devin hesitated. “What?”

“Iron.” It took a lot of effort to keep my tone level. “They shot her so she wouldn’t run, and then they slit her throat.” I swallowed the sudden taste of roses, forcing back the sensory memories of Evening’s death. Ah, the glorious aftereffects of blood magic.

“How do you know . . .”

“I’m Amandine’s daughter, remember?” I waved a hand, not needing to feign the irony in my voice as I said, “Just doing what comes naturally.”

“Then you know who killed her,” he said, leaning back in his seat.

“No, I don’t. They hid it from me somehow, and I need to know. I’m not as familiar with this world as I used to be. It’s been too long, and I need help.”

“So why are you here? Why aren’t you at the Queen’s Court, going through all your precious pureblood contacts?” His voice was bitter. I frowned. He didn’t approve when I “moved uptown,” but this seemed more raw than it should have been. I’d left a long time ago. How long was he planning to resent me for it?

“I went to the Queen before I came here,” I said, and held up a fold of water-stained silk, shaking it for emphasis. “Where did you think I got this fabulous dress? It used to be my second-best jeans. I had to announce the death.”

“And you came here anyway? What, are you hedging your bets now?”

“No. She refused to help me.” Devin frowned, motioning for me to continue. I sighed. “She threw me out, Devin. She wouldn’t even let me tell her how Evening died.”

“She threw you out? What did you say?”

“Just that Evening was gone. I recited the proper death announcements and everything—I didn’t miss a step, but she flipped out.” My frustration was spilling over into my voice. “I don’t know what’s going on there. Her reaction wasn’t entirely sane.”

“Do you think she did it?”

I paused, considering this for a long moment before I said, “No. It’s not like I could touch her if she had, and she freaked out way too much for it to be purely guilt. It could have been someone close to her, I guess, but I don’t think so. I think she’s just . . . I think there’s something wrong with her.”

“So there’s no help from that quarter. Where else can you go?”

“Shadowed Hills. I can beg Sylvester—but you know he hasn’t got any real power in this city.” I was buttering him up. He probably knew it, and I didn’t care. If putting Sylvester down made him more likely to help me, I’d do it. I’d hate it, but I’d do it.

He sagged in his chair, shaking his head. “You need my help.”

“Yes. I need your help. There isn’t anyone else.”