From Blood & Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,118

Brandole Mazeen.

Chapter 23

Besides the Duke and the Dark One, he was the last person I wanted to see standing behind me. Like Vikter, his red tunic was sleeveless, and behind his mask, his pitch-black eyes seemed to glimmer. I managed to keep my voice level as I said, “My Lord.”

A sardonic, tight-lipped grin twisted his mouth as his gaze flickered over me, lingering in a way that really made me wish that I were covered head to toe in a sack. Finally, he tore his gaze away and nodded at Tawny and Vikter. Then his attention settled back on me. “I hear that a certain Priestess is very unhappy with you.”

The tension returned, sinking its rigid claws into my neck as I stared up at him.

The Lord stepped in close—too close for any level of propriety. “I do believe you’re in for another lesson, my dear.”

I inhaled sharply, almost overcome by some kind of thick, musky cologne. My gaze flew to his as his scent triggered a memory. He hadn’t smelled of cologne the night he’d trapped me in an alcove—the night Malessa had been murdered.

He’d smelled of something else then—something sweet and musky.

Jasmine.

He’d smelled of jasmine.

My mind immediately went to the petal I’d found under the chair in the room Malessa had been found in. There hadn’t been jasmine in that room, unless it had been replaced by the lilies, but hadn’t Tawny—?

“Excuse me,” Vikter stepped in, placing a hand on my arm. “We need to be—”

“No need to run off.” Mazeen’s gaze remained fixed on mine. “I’ll be on my way now. Enjoy the Rite.” And with that, he slipped around us and headed down the steps onto the main floor of the Great Hall.

“What was that about?” Vikter asked, his voice low.

“It’s nothing.” My thoughts raced as I turned back to Tawny. “You said you saw Malessa the day she died. That morning, correct?”

Tawny’s lips pinched. “Yes. I did.”

“Was she carrying a bouquet? Do you remember what kind of flowers it had?”

She blinked. “I…I don’t know. I know they were white.”

The petal in the room had been white, and it had definitely been jasmine. My stomach dipped.

Her gaze searched mine. “Why are you asking?”

“That’s a good question,” Vikter chimed in.

“I don’t know…” I looked out over the mass of people, unable to find the Lord. I thought about how he’d stood in that doorway, staring and unmoving. He’d been there when Rylan had escorted me back to my chambers. And he’d come out of one of the rooms. Which one, I couldn’t be sure, but what did any of that mean anyway?

He could’ve been with Malessa before she died, or it could be a coincidence, but an Atlantian had killed her. That much was clear. Nothing else could’ve made such a wound without getting blood everywhere.

“Poppy.” Vikter touched my arm lightly as the Priest moved toward the center of the dais. “Is everything okay?”

I nodded. I would speak to him later about it, but I wasn’t even sure what I was thinking.

“Where is the Duke?” Tawny whispered. “The Rite is starting.”

And he still wasn’t here. The Duchess kept pacing to her left where the dais could be accessed by the back entrance.

“We are gathered here tonight to honor the gods,” the Priest spoke, hushing the crowd gathered on the floor below. “To honor the Rite.”

“Excuse me,” a soft voice came from behind us.

I turned the same time as Vikter, and another shock greeted me as I recognized the woman standing there.

It was Agnes.

Oh, my gods…

My eyes widened as she glanced nervously between Vikter and me. She was wearing red, like everyone else, a skirt and blouse dyed to match. She looked better than the last time I had seen her, but there were deep shadows under her eyes that told me that her grieving had not been easy.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, keeping her gaze downcast. “I saw you…and I had to come over.”

“It’s okay.” Vikter sent me a look. “Would you like to speak to me somewhere private?”

She nodded without looking up, and not for one second did I think she didn’t realize who I was.

Vikter’s gaze met mine. “I’ll be right back.”

“Actually, I would like to speak to her,” Agnes said as the Priest launched into a prayer. “If it would be okay.” Her gaze lifted briefly to mine. “It would only be for a moment.”

Vikter started to deny her request, but people were beginning to pay attention, sending sharp looks of reprimand in