The door slowly swung open. Two Fantomes stepped inside, a man and a woman in black robes. They had the classic look of Necromancers. Both were tall and lithe with aristocratic features, pale skin, dark hair, and brown eyes. The woman spoke first. “What do you wish, Your Eminence?”
“This one.” He shoved me forward. “Torture her until she confesses to something.” He snapped his fingers, an idea appearing. “We had to lock up those six Fantomes. None of them would follow the rules today. Make her take the blame for that.”
It took everything I had not to gasp. If Jonas and Hannah got their spells into me, I could confess to more than they bargained for.
And I still wouldn’t have the vortex watch.
The Vicomte waved his hand dismissively “However you kill her, just do it quietly and out of sight. I don’t want to upset Genesis Rex.”
The man bowed slightly at the waist. “As you command, Your Eminence.”
Amelia stepped forward. “No!”
The Vicomte rounded on her. His gray face suddenly turned pale with rage. “I’ve half a mind to end you as well. Think I can’t take another heir? I can and easily.” His voice lowered to menacing whisper. “Do I make myself clear?”
Amelia nodded.
I gave her my most serene gaze. “I’ll be fine, Amelia.”
The Vicomte’s eyes locked with mine. Every line of his gray face darkened with pure hatred. “No, you won’t. You’ll be dead in an hour.” He paused, waiting for someone else to speak.
Frustration and rage careened through me. My hands balled into fists. I wanted to take down these two Fantomes now, but I needed to be smart. It would be much easier to fight them if we were somewhere secluded.
I didn’t want anyone to hear the screams, either.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Fantomes guided me through a series of deserted garden pathways. Behind us, the windows of the Montagne mansion flickered with candlelight—a hundred tiny beacons against a darkening sky. The sickly-sweet smell of withering flowers hung heavily in the air. With every step, my silk gown rustled gently.
I shook my head in disbelief. In some ways, this evening resembled another fairy tale. I was wearing a lovely red ball gown. In a few hours, I might watch my friend become engaged to a powerful king.
Trouble was, in my version of the tale, I had to fight a few mages first.
In my silk gown.
With a party mask on.
My pulse beat so hard I could feel it in my throat. I wanted nothing more than to cast some spells and defeat these Necromancers, right now. I clenched my casting hand, repeating the same two words over and over.
Not yet.
Casting this close to the mansion would only attract more Fantomes, and I’d have enough trouble with these two. Plus, I must conserve my energy. Not only would I need to stay alive, but I also had to find the Vicomte’s watch. My throat tightened.
I don’t want to kill other Necromancers. I may have to, though.
The mages led me to a small clearing in the far corner of the gardens. Despite the growing shadows, I could tell the place was large enough for a lover’s bench and little else. I gritted my teeth in frustration.
No way could I conjure battle skeletons here.
The spot was simply too small. Which meant that I’d have to do my own fighting. I took in a deep breath.
Fine. I’ll take this hand to hand.
The mages stopped at the opposite side of the clearing. Moving in unison, they slowly turned around to face me. Hannah was the first to speak. “The Vicomte seems to think you had something to do with our fellow Fantomes acting strangely. What do you know of this?”
I gave her a look of doe-eyed innocence. “And what do you think?”
Jonas lifted his chin. The movement meant he looked down his elegant nose at me. “I think anyone who could cast that well is long dead.”
“Agreed,” said Hannah. “I doubt she even has any power worth draining.”
I clasped my hands under my chin and widened my eyes further. It was a pitiful attempt at begging, but I was a mage, not an actress. “You can drain Necromancer power?” I forced out a gasp. “I may, uh, know someone who wants to get rid of hers.”
In my mind, this was an obvious ploy. However, the mages didn’t doubt my intent in the slightest.
“Why?” asked Jonas. “Do you have power to speak of?”
I kicked at the grass with my slipper. “I might.”
Hannah stepped closer. “The Vicomte asked us to interrogate you, but he thought you were only a troublemaker. Why, if he knew you had power, he’d…”
Kill me? Drain me?
“If he knew, then he’d want to help me?” I glanced between them, doing my best to appear wide-eyed and helpless. It didn’t seem possible that they’d keep believing my act, yet they did.
“Precisely,” said Jonas. “The Vicomte runs a charity where he helps those like you to rid yourself of cumbersome magick.”
What a bastard. Jonas spoke the lie so smoothly it was obvious that he’d done so before.