And Marcellus didn’t have the head, the heart, or the stomach for it.
With his grandfather’s attention diverted, Marcellus slinked toward the door of the warden’s office, slipped into the hallway, and finally let his body be overtaken by sobs.
- CHAPTER 18 - CHATINE
WARMTH. THAT WAS THE ONLY way Chatine could describe the sensation pulsing through her left leg. Like a warm, velvety glow. But she knew she shouldn’t be feeling warm, velvety glows. She should be feeling pain. Anguishing, heart-racing pain.
She’d seen the mess the explosif had made of her leg. It hadn’t been pretty. There had been blood and muscle and possibly even bone, she couldn’t be sure. She’d passed out before she’d been able to take a thorough look.
And then what?
She couldn’t remember. Her mind felt mushy. Cloudy. Like it was soaked with rain. Beautiful, warm, soothing rain. As delicious and blissful as the energy radiating through her leg.
Delicious? Blissful?
What on Laterre was she thinking? Since when did she ever use the word “beautiful” to describe the rain? Who was she right now?
“Come on, baby. Work for Papa.”
Chatine startled at the sound of the foreign voice. It was male and it was close. Too close. Like it was hovering right above her.
“You know you want to. You know I love you. You know you love me. So let’s make gorgeous love together and get the fric out of here.”
Chatine was lying on her back. The ground beneath her was hard and cold. She dragged her eyes open, struggling to take in what she was seeing. What exactly was she seeing?
The sky. Dark and sinister.
The stars. Endless and profound.
Was she still on Bastille?
She glanced to the left, and her gaze landed on some kind of console scattered with dials, switches, and glowing screens of varying sizes and colors. She turned her head to the right and saw a bank of metal cabinets built into a curving, riveted wall.
Then, Chatine heard another voice. “Stealth mode deactivated.” This one seemed to come from all around her. Like the sky was speaking. It was a decidedly more pleasant voice. Female.
“No!” the male voice boomed. “That is not how we demonstrate our love for each other.”
Chatine tipped her head back, pointing her chin to the ceiling and casting her gaze behind her.
A man sat in a large capitaine’s chair, his hands moving furiously over a vast control panel. His hair sprang out of his head in short coiled braids, and his forearms were taut with muscles.
And he was upside down.
No, she was upside down. Or her head was, at least. Something rumbled beneath her and Chatine soon realized she was lying on the floor of some type of compartment.
The cockpit of a ship?
But how did she even get here? Wherever here was.
She shut her eyes and tried to draw out the memories. They felt hazy but fresh. As though they’d just happened a few minutes ago. She remembered the power going off in the tower. She remembered climbing through the vents, the morgue, clambering onto the Trésor tower roof. She remembered Ministère combatteurs soaring overhead, raining down fire. Then finally, she remembered hoisting Roche onto the mysterious ship and seeing the tiny raindrop-shaped birthmark on his left shoulder. The same birthmark she used to kiss. The same birthmark she’d dreamed about for years.
Roche.
His name pulsed through her mind like a heartbeat—Roche. Roche. Roche.—before suddenly morphing into something else. Another name. Another beat. Same heart.
Henri. Henri. Henri.
Roche was Henri?
Roche was her lost little brother? The one she’d thought was dead for years, only to learn he’d been sold off by her parents for extra largs?
She still couldn’t wrap her mind around that. All this time she’d been trying to save her baby brother in her dreams and trying to save Roche in real life, and they were the exact same person?
“Stealth mode activated,” the ethereal female voice announced.
“Stay with me, baby,” the man said, his hands flying over the controls. “Stay. With. Me.”
“Stealth mode deactivated,” the other voice replied a moment later.
The man’s body sagged in his chair. “You do realize that is the opposite of staying with me?”
Chatine blinked hard, trying to dispel the fog from her brain. Was he talking to her?
“How about we try this again? Can you try it again for Papa? Can you?” There was a pause, and then he said, “Oh good, you’re awake.”
Chatine glanced up to see the man was now leaning over the edge of his chair, staring straight down at her, his huge head filling