Chapter 26

Twenty-Six

" I should have known the moment I saw the key," Giselle said. "It unlocks the vaults at Russet Row."

Russet Row—the houses above the Russet casino that were owned entirely by Les Fant?mes gang. A place where danger lurked, and midnight monsters ruled. Not monsters like Emrys. No, these wore pinstriped suits and smelled of mirror magic.

Of course, Giselle knew about the key. She grew up at Russet Row for the first ten years of her life, until her aristocratic mother got bored and decided she'd try her hand at parenting. It was unsuccessful, seeing that her daughter ran away to the Viridian six years later.

"Then perhaps tomorrow we can put your skills at breaking and entering to the test?" Quinn rocked on her feet, avoiding the prince's caressing gaze. "But right now, I need to speak to my uncle."

"He's in the cigar room." Emrys's lips curled into a lazy smile.

Five minutes later, Quinn was met with eccentric fury. First, it was pointed at Emrys for deliberately disobeying Uncle Matias's earlier decree, and then the anger was inflicted upon her—for sneaking onto the golden gondolas, trespassing on Castle Hill property, but worst of all, eavesdropping on the Blood Council. All egregious acts in her uncle's estimation.

However, only one of the accusations was true but her uncle didn't care much for accuracy, which was intolerably infuriating. Precision was always next to godliness. It was Uncle Matias's motto, for fuck's sake.

Utterly hypocritical.

Usually, facing his ire made her cower. Quinn hated so much to be in trouble. But after all the lies and deaths and everything that happened, she'd had enough, and her blood churned with fury too. Her uncle lied to her. He sheltered her and withheld the one thing she needed . Answers. Quinn's wrath didn't end with him. Constance lied too, and Emrys was cruel.

He'd made her feel things, he'd touched her, seduced her, kissed her, and then made her feel like a common rag one uses to satiate a need before tossing it away.

Quinn snorted. "That's rich coming from you, Uncle. You're angry at me for sneaking around and trying to find answers when all you have ever done is sneak around and lie? Were you ever going to tell me the truth?"

"No." His expression was cold and unmoving. Quiet and forbidding. His fury was never loud. Instead, it was subtle and small like a single thorn on a rose or a porcupine's needle. But that made it more terrifying. But even in his stillness, the vein in his forehead slightly feathered. "You never needed to know."

Quinn fingernails bit her palms. "I never needed to know that vampires might have killed my parents and are after me?"

"Oh, don't be dramatic, Quinnevere." He tapped his thigh with his pinky finger, followed by his index, followed by his middle, then his pointer and thumb. He repeated the pattern three times. It was his grounding technique to keep him from getting too emotional. "No vampire would bother with you."

A massive lie. A vampire had invited her to the palace and . . . kissed her. What he'd done with his hands would certainly qualify as a bother.

Her cheeks warmed, and she tried to cover up her embarrassment by turning away.

What in all the mirrors was happening to her?

Eventually, she answered, her voice a bit hoarse. "Jane warned me about the Blood Mirrors and my possible danger the night she died. I am pretty sure that would count as a bother." She deliberately left out the threatening note. "You should've told me everything. I shouldn't have to learn that I performed an autopsy on my cousin from a passing comment from an arrogant ass."

Uncle Matias started tapping again and turned to Emrys who was standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the glimmering light behind him. He looked like a god. "You told her Jane was her cousin?"

"I told her something like that." Emrys's answer was short and pointed.

"Quinnevere and the Ashelle family are none of your business." Matias's voice was a deep pit filled with poisonous snakes.

An equally deadly smile brushed across the prince's lips. "I do believe the Ashelle family is entirely my business. As I recall, Callan personally asked me to protect his daughter if anything happened to him. Not you."

Quinn's heart lurched, and her breaths became unsteady. She didn't know what to do with that information, or what it possibly meant.

"Your misplaced friendship with my brother-in-law means very little to me, Emrys Avalon," Uncle Matias said. "Besides, why are you acting so chivalrous now? In the last nineteen years, you've done nothing. You acted like she didn't even exist."

Emrys shrugged, and it spoke volumes. Because to him, she didn't exist . . . until very recently. Until she got in the way of what he wanted.

"I have legal authority over my niece, not you."

"You did, but I do believe she is twenty-three now and can legally make her own choices." Emrys strolled into the room, radiating power as if it pulsed from his pores. "I don't want any authority over her. I merely want her to make her own decisions."

"She lives in my house and follows my rules."

"She doesn't have to live in your house."

"And where would you have her live, the palace?" Uncle Matias scoffed.

Emrys shrugged. "Sure, if she wanted to, but she is also going to make it into the Royalle Ballet and can live there."

Uncle Matias smirked. "If she somehow makes it into the Royalle Ballet, then that is another discussion, but as of this moment, she has yet to achieve that goal, and she is under my protection."

Quinn's throat ached as she pulled in a deep breath. She always knew her uncle had little confidence in her dancing, but it was another thing to hear it.

Emrys shuddered, his cool mask sliding for a tiny second. "I guess I have more faith in her vast abilities than you do."

It was enough. "She can actually speak for herself," Quinn spat, and both turned sharp gazes on her. "I think I would like to leave now. Giselle, would you mind if I stayed with you for the night?"

Giselle who'd silently watched the play unfold, said, "Yes, absolutely. Stay with me as long as you would like."

With that Quinn stood and strode out of the room, completely uninterested in what either gentleman thought. Neither of them deserved to tell her what to do. Not tonight, and not after all the lies.

This might be the first and bravest choice she'd ever truly made for herself, but it was time to face her fear. It was time to walk away from the lies and go with the one person who'd always had her back and never lied to her—never toyed with her.

Giselle .

The sky sparkled with stardust, creating a tableau of fantasy and glorious dreams, the gondolas a jewel among the stars. New Swansea at night was a painter's masterpiece. It was pure magic and mystery. It smelled of sea salt and crisp ocean air and tasted like a triple creme dessert.

Yet the only thing Quinn tasted was rotten, decaying relationships rife with confusion.

While her brain should've spiraled about all the lies and information about the murders, the only person on her mind was the stupid, alluring prince and the dam he broke inside her—the sensations she never knew she wanted.

Quinn had never thought of Emrys as someone she could desire. Before, she considered him a massive, spoiled inconvenience with a pretty face. But now that he'd kissed her, and more . . . all she thought about was desire. Of the way his lips felt, and his skilled hands . . . and his tongue. Oh, bloody mirrors, he was the plague in her mind.

She touched a finger to her lips.

Stupid, stupid gentlemen. This was precisely why she avoided all entanglements or possible distractions until now. Men were not practical. Distractions were not practical.

Stupid kisses and orgasms plaguing her mind were not practical. But worst of all, men could not be controlled.

They were dangerous. Unpredictable and messy.

All things she could not abide.

"Well, that was an interesting night," Giselle said, her eyes fixed on Quinn's fingers. "Which part would you like to talk about first?"

"He kissed me," Quinn breathed. And did a bit more.

A devious smile danced on Giselle's dark olive cheeks. "Yes, I know."

"And I think I kissed him back." Quinn stared at her friend like a doe trapped in the headlights of one of the new automobile inventions.

"You think?"

Quinn sighed. "I had absolutely no idea what I was doing."

Giselle tittered, roses twirling on her cheeks. "Yes, but did you enjoy it?"

"I . . ." Quinn sucked in a breath, not knowing what to say. "I, um . . ." She swallowed. "No. No, I didn't enjoy it. He's a monster."

"Hmmm, right." Giselle's words were pure amusement and filled entirely with disbelief. "Monsters can be great kissers."