Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

DAPHNE

October 17, 1765

Chateau de Champs-sur-Marne

The Order must have sent someone else—another assassin. I knew it would happen eventually, but as usual, I'd miscalculated how much time I had, and étienne had paid the price.

The two weeks that he'd been senseless had been some of the worst of my life. Not only had it delayed our investigation, but seeing a powerful man laid low and raving through unconscious delirium was disturbing, to say the least.

"After this, he should be well enough to travel," Doctor Van Helsing said. She expertly bandaged the small cut on the inside of my arm and carefully handed the porcelain bowl of my blood to the cook. "Keep it warm," she instructed, ignoring the cook's queasy expression.

"Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate the care you've bestowed on the emissary," I said. I tugged my sleeve down over the bandage.

Van Helsing cocked her head and studied me, her bright blue eyes made owlish by her thick spectacles.

"On the contrary, Your Grace. I merely treated the patient. He has you to thank for his care."

Uncomfortable with the insinuation that I cared for the vampire, I stood—somewhat unsteadily. Van Helsing caught my elbow and tsked.

"You've been feeding him for days now—you must take some time to recover your own strength. Red meat for your evening meal, and early to bed, I say. And this should be the last that you feed him. Understand?" She fussed over me, looking more like an aging governess than the voluptuous, vibrant woman of thirty that she was.

"Far be it from me to disagree with a doctor's orders," I smiled, steadying myself. "I'm fine, Doctor, I promise. Nicole, if you'll hand me that tray with the blood, and I'll see to our guest."

The cook nodded and handed me the tray, after half-heartedly offering to take it down herself. I brushed her off and descended the stairs to the wine cellar. Even though several of the household staff had offered their blood instead of mine, I'd refused. When Michel was found drained, it shocked and devastated our entire home—I did not grieve alone. I couldn't subject anyone else to something so unpleasant when I knew I had the strength to bear the burden. Besides, as long as étienne was in my house, his care and feeding was my responsibility, though I preferred him being ignorant to that.

I knocked on the cellar door, and étienne bade me enter. He looked vastly improved for a dead man. The hollows beneath his eyes had gone, and his gaunt features had evened out over the last several days, losing the sunken pallor of illness. He flashed me a grin and sat up straighter in bed, reaching for the tray in my hands.

"You must send my compliments to your chef—or whomever has kindly offered to sustain me. I must say, this is the best blood that I've ever had," he said, picking up the bowl eagerly.

I nodded and turned to leave, but he stopped me.

"Have you been in contact with your masters?"

I bristled. "My what? "

"The Order."

"They are not my masters. I simply work with them to address the more pressing threats to king and country," I said stiffly.

"Threats like vampires," he said, putting down the empty bowl. His fangs glinted in the candlelight as he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.

"Yes. The blood plague is a threat to the country. People are dying, étienne. Not every vampire leaves their victim alive after feeding."

"People are also dying of hunger, Duchesse. Certainly, the plague adds to the numbers, but I have a hard time agreeing with The Order when their policy is to simply stake all the infected to prevent the plague from spreading. You're a smart woman. You can't tell me that you think it makes sense to kill people in order to protect them." He picked up the wine glass from the tray and sipped at it.

"If the deaths of a few will protect the many, then yes, that makes sense to me."

"And you think The Order has the right to determine that? What if the plague had only struck the aristocracy? Would you feel the same way? Would you be willing to lay down your life as a possible disease spreader, in order to protect the lowly peasants?"

"I—well, yes, I would. If it was for the good for the many," I argued, folding my arms in front of me.

étienne tutted. "Forgive me if I don't believe you. Trust me when I tell you that this condition—this burden—is not one to be taken lightly. The choice between infection and death is a near-impossible one, even for a disgraced wretch like me."

I narrowed my eyes. "At least you have an eternity to right your wrongs. To make amends."

"It's hard to make amends with the dead," he said quietly.

For the first time, I saw a flash of regret in his hazel eyes. I wondered who he thought of in that moment, and before I could catch myself, I felt a swell of sympathy for him. I knew what it was like to lose loved ones before you had the chance to tell them everything you wanted to. For a man who was surrounded by death, he must have felt that tenfold.

He cleared his throat and took a swig of wine.

"Besides, who told you vampires were the minority?"

I stilled. "But, they are! There cannot be so many. The Order?—"

He cut me off with an arched brow. "We are more than you think, Duchesse."

His velvet tone implied he was referring to more than the number of vampires in France. I met his gaze and found myself thinking of his body pressed against mine, his kisses on my neck. I blushed. I shouldn't have liked it—shouldn't have wanted it to continue. I didn't trust him one whit, but that hadn't seemed to matter to my body.

étienne stood from the bed, clad only in his loose linen shirt and breeches, and strode over to me. His eyes never left mine. When he was mere inches from me, he stopped.

"As am I," he murmured. He leaned forward and I closed my eyes reflexively, fearfully prepared— no, shamefully hoping —for the kiss to come. My breath quickened. My lips parted.

But the kiss never arrived.

Instead, I felt him gently lift my hand to his lips. My eyes flew open. He pressed a chaste kiss to the back of my hand and smiled up at me through his lashes.

"Thank you for keeping me company while I dined this evening. I'm deeply indebted to you for your hospitality. I'll bid you goodnight, Duchesse."

He opened the door for me, handed me the dinner tray, and bowed before retreating back inside the cellar. It took me some moments to recover my senses enough to make a rather incensed march back upstairs.

To distract myself from a whirlwind of confusing emotions—unspent lust, embarrassment, confusion, frustration, and no small amount of anger—I asked for dinner to be brought into the library and sat at my desk to tackle a mountain of correspondence that I'd been avoiding.

I put aside the apologetic missive from Philippe. I still didn't have any proof of étienne's innocence, and I was loath to tell Philippe I was playing host, nursemaid, and dinner to the man I'd been sent to kill. Anxiety had rooted in my stomach at his suggestion that The Order would accuse me of having feelings for the vampire. Considering I'd been feeding him my own blood to keep him alive, that claim would be even more difficult to refute.

Days before, I'd finally gathered the courage to send a message to The Order and explain why I hadn't killed étienne. I'd declined to tell them about digging up Jeanne's body and the recent events that brought étienne to my doorstep—it made me uneasy to confront them about a second assassination attempt. Doing so would reveal that I was aware of it in the first place, and I didn't want to play my hand until I had all the cards.

I was surprised when they responded so quickly, but no better off than I had been. While they agreed to allow me time to find proof of étienne's innocence, they made it clear that I would be doing so on my own. I wouldn't have access to the resources or contacts that The Order possessed. I suspected they did so to limit the impact of what they believed would be my likely failure. The clock was ticking, and I was alone in my quest for truth.

So be it .

The last letter I had was from Charlotte, keeping me updated on the latest gossip at court. My cousin had an almost supernatural ability to gather information—far better than my own, even when I was collecting intelligence for The Order. Her cheerful nature and sparkling wit made her a natural ally and confidante, and I relied on her observations heavily when I wasn't at court myself. Reading between the lines, I started to pick up on a worrisome trend. Despite the king's more relaxed attitude toward having the nobility in residence at the palace, more and more courtiers were leaving their private chateaux to move into vacant apartments within Versailles. I thought back to étienne's words. Were the infected no longer the minority? Were these moves motivated by the fear of what was happening around Paris? If so, who else knew that we humans were in a more precarious position than the king—and The Order, for that matter—would have us believe?

étienne believed a reckoning was coming. For the second time since I'd met him, I was starting to believe he was right.