“I’ll be there as well, of course.” Philippe forced a grin. The motion had none of his normal enthusiasm. “Until we meet in the reception room.” He trudged out the door.
Once we were alone once more, Amelia rounded on me. “I’m more concerned about rumors. You don’t think the Vicomte heard about everything that’s happened?”
I knew what she meant, and it wasn’t a short list of happenings, either. A dead Fantome. Gallery burned to the ground. Spells cast all over the Montagne estate. I straightened my shoulders and fixed Amelia with a determined gaze. “Honestly? I do think he’s here about your marriage.” Perhaps.
“Marriage I can handle.” Amelia gave me a sad smile. “The idea is foul, but there have been whispers for years. Yet if he suspects something larger, then he’ll send a Fantome to live with me, like he did with the Marchioness.” She shivered. “Are they really as terrible as they say?”
Worse.
“I can take care of them. That’s all that matters.” I took her hands in mine. “Whatever takes place, we’ll find a way. Believe it.”
“Yes, Elea. We can do this.” As Amelia bustled off in search of Clothilde and my evening gown, her words echoed through my mind.
We can do this.
It was two of us against the Vicomte and all his Fantomes. We could certainly do this. However, I feared we had a better chance to find a single grain of sand on a beach than to locate our Necromancer friends in time.
Chapter Fourteen
Amelia, Philippe, and I stepped into her small reception room. The place looked hastily set up. Although all the tarps had been pulled off all the chairs, the floor was covered in dust, cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and the plaster walls were bare. Not that the Vicomte seemed to notice. His lanky form paced along the back wall, an angular figure in a garish pink coat with tall black boots. Multiple watches hung from his pockets. The bright colors of his clothes made for an odd contrast to the man himself. The Vicomte’s hair, eyes, and skin were all a dull shade of gray.
He hadn’t changed a bit.
I worked hard to keep my face level. The last time I’d seen the Vicomte, we were at the Midnight Cloister. That was when I’d sent his old master, the Tsar, into exile. At the time, I was bloodied and wearing fitted Caster leathers. Amelia said the Vicomte wouldn’t notice me in the Royal garb. And in truth, it was amazing how quickly she and her servants had transformed my appearance. I now wore an elaborate blue gown with my hair piled high atop my head.
Please let this disguise be enough.
The Vicomte stopped his manic pacing. His gaze locked on Amelia. So far, so good. “Where have you been, daughter?”
Amelia curtsied. “Hello, Daddy Dearest.”
Philippe bowed slightly at the waist. “Your Eminence.”
Amelia gently nudged me in the ribs with her elbow, breaking me out of my memories of the Midnight Cloister and fighting there with Rowan.
Oh, yes. I’m supposed to greet the Vicomte as well.
I curtsied low. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your—”
“You made me wait far too long, daughter.” The Vicomte didn’t so much as glance in my direction before he marched directly over to Amelia. My shoulders slumped with relief. Amelia was right. Gaspard didn’t pay much attention to anyone.
The Vicomte paused before Amelia, his gray eyes narrowing into slits. “I suspect that you’ve been up to no good.”
Amelia met his gaze straight on. Brave girl. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t I? We’ll see.” The Vicomte’s glare shifted between Philippe and me. My heart sank.
This is it. He knows everything.
Philippe lifted his chin. “You have something to say?”
“You’ll speak when I tell you to.” The Vicomte rounded on Amelia, looking her over from head to toe. It reminded me of the inspection one might give a horse before deciding whether it was suitable for sale. “And you, daughter, will do as you’re told for once.”
“Depends on what you wish.” Amelia’s voice came out strong. Even so, I couldn’t miss the slight wobble of her chin.
“I have plans for your future,” said the Vicomte slowly.
Some of the tension left my body. He didn’t know that we were rescuing the lost Necromancers.
This is about the marriage.
“Excuse me.” Philippe stepped protectively between the Vicomte and his sister. “If you have a situation in mind for my sister, then it should first be discussed with me. I am her elder brother, after all.”
“And to me, you’re nothing. I adopted your sister and kept you along as her pet. So, when I want to hear your voice, boy, I’ll ask for it.” The Vicomte pulled out one of the many watches from his pockets and examined the face. “And I don’t have time for this nonsense.”
I leaned forward, trying for a better glimpse of the watch. Was this the one with the totem ring inside it? How lovely would that be? I could simply grab the vortex watch and run.
My desire became overwhelming. Without even realizing it, I stepped closer to the Vicomte.