Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove #1) - Shelby Mahurin Page 0,63
leisurely. “Stay awhile. I need a break, anyway.”
“And how exactly can I help with that?”
He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. “What do you need from our dear captain?”
“A knife.”
He chuckled, running a hand down his jaw. “Persuasive as you are, it’s highly unlikely even you will be able to procure a weapon here. The Archbishop seems to think you’re dangerous. Reid, as always, interprets His Eminence’s opinion as the word of God.”
Ansel moved farther into the room. His eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t speak that way about Captain Diggory.”
Jean Luc inclined his head with a mocking smile. “I speak only truth, Ansel. Reid is my closest friend. He’s also the Archbishop’s pet.” He rolled his eyes, lip curling as if the word left a rancid taste in his mouth. “The nepotism is staggering.”
“Nepotism?” I arched a brow, looking between the two of them. “I thought my husband was orphaned.”
“He was.” Ansel glared daggers at Jean Luc. I hadn’t realized he could look so . . . antagonistic. “The Archbishop found him in the—”
“Do save us the sob story, won’t you? We all have one.” Jean Luc dropped his hand and shoved away from the table abruptly. He glanced back at me before returning to his papers. “The Archbishop thinks he sees himself in Reid. They were both orphans, both hellions as children. But that’s where the similarities end. The Archbishop created himself from nothing. His life work, his title, his influence—he fought for all of it. Bled for all of it.” He sneered, crumpling one of his papers and chucking it at the bin. “And he plans to give it all to Reid for nothing.”
“Jean Luc,” I asked shrewdly, “are you an orphan?”
His gaze sharpened. “Why?”
“I— No reason. It doesn’t matter.”
And it didn’t. Really. I didn’t give a damn about Jean Luc’s issues. But for someone to be so wholly blind to his own emotions . . . no wonder he was bitter. Cursing myself for my curiosity, I redirected my thoughts to my purpose. Procuring a weapon was more important—and frankly, more interesting—than those three’s twisted love triangle.
“You’re right, by the way.” I shrugged as if bored, sauntering forward to trail my finger along the map. He eyed me suspiciously. “My husband doesn’t deserve any of this. It’s pathetic, really, the way he waits for the Archbishop’s beck and call.” Ansel shot me a bewildered look, but I ignored him, examining a bit of dust on my finger. “Like a good boy—begging for scraps.”
Jean Luc smiled, small and grim. “Oh, you are devious, aren’t you?” When I didn’t respond, he chuckled. “While I empathize with you, Madame Diggory, I’m not so easily manipulated.”
“You aren’t?” I cocked my head at him. “Are you sure?”
He nodded and leaned forward on his elbows. “I’m sure. For all Reid’s faults, he has good reason for hiding his weapons from you. You’re a criminal.”
“Right. Of course. It’s just—I thought it might be beneficial to both of us.”
Ansel touched my arm. “Lou—”
“I’m listening.” Jean Luc’s eyes gleamed with amusement now. “You want a knife. What’s in it for me?”
I shrugged away from Ansel’s hand and returned his smile. “It’s simple. Giving me a knife would annoy the hell out of my husband.”
He laughed then. Tossed his head back and slapped the table, scattering his papers. “Oh, you really are a clever little witch, aren’t you?”
I stiffened, my smile slipping infinitesimally, before chuckling a second too late. Ansel didn’t seem to notice, but Jean Luc, with his sharp eyes, stopped laughing abruptly. He tilted his head to consider me, like a hound scenting a rabbit’s trail. Damn it. I forced a smile before turning to leave. “I’ve wasted enough of your time, Chasseur Toussaint. If you’ll excuse me, I need to find my elusive husband.”
“Reid isn’t here.” Jean Luc still watched me with unnerving focus. “He left earlier with the Archbishop. A lutin infestation was reported outside the city.” Mistaking my frown for concern, he added, “He’ll be back in a few hours. Lutins are hardly dangerous, but the constabulary aren’t equipped to handle the supernatural.”
I pictured the small hobgoblins I’d played with as a child. “They aren’t dangerous at all.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them. “I mean . . . what will he do to them?”
Jean Luc arched a brow. “He’ll exterminate them, of course.”
“Why?” I ignored Ansel’s insistent tugs on my arm, heat rising to my face. I knew I should stop talking. I recognized the