After our performance, Coco and Ansel had cornered me, asking how Reid had received the news of his siblings’ murders. My ensuing silence had exasperated them. Their ensuing silence had exasperated me. It wasn’t that I—that I didn’t want to tell Reid the whole truth, but what purpose would it serve? He didn’t know Etienne and Gabrielle. Why should he mourn them? Why should he take responsibility for their deaths? And he would take responsibility. Of that much, I was certain. If he knew my mother had started targeting his individual siblings, his focus would shift to protecting them instead of defeating Morgane—an illogical strategy, as her death was the only way of ensuring their safety.
No, this wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t lied to him. This was just . . . a secret.
Everyone had secrets.
Reid shook his head. “Ansel isn’t really my type.”
“No?” I pressed closer, the word a breath against his lips, and he climbed the steps slowly, backing me against the wagon door. His hands braced on either side of my face. Caging me there. “What is your type?”
He trailed his nose along my shoulder. “I love girls who can’t sing.”
Scoffing, I planted my hands on his chest and shoved. “You ass.”
“What?” he asked innocently, stumbling backward, nearly busting said ass in the snow. “It’s the truth. When your voice cracks on a high note, it gets me—”
“BIG WILLY BILLY TALKED SORT OF SILLY,” I bellowed, thrusting a hand on each hip. I stalked toward him, trying and failing to repress my laughter. “BUT HIS KNOB WAS AS LONG AS HIS ARM.” When he spluttered, glancing behind toward the others, I said loudly, “Is this what you like, Chass? Does this make you hot?”
The revelry behind us ceased at my words. Every eye fell upon us.
A flush crept up Reid’s cheeks, and he lifted a placating hand. “All right, Lou. You’ve made your point—”
“ITS SHAPE DOWN HIS THIGH SOON CAUGHT LIDDY’S EYE—”
“Lou.” Darting forward when Madame Labelle giggled, he attempted to cover my mouth, but I danced out of reach, looping elbows with Beau and spinning wildly.
“—AND IN NINE MONTHS, A NIPPER WAS BORN!” Over my shoulder, I called, “Did you hear that, Reid? A nipper. Because sex—”
Deveraux clapped his hands together and cackled. “Excellent, excellent! I knew Liddy, you know, and a lovelier creature I will never again meet. Such a vivacious spirit. She would have quite enjoyed knowing she is now beloved by the entire kingdom.”
“Wait.” I pivoted toward Deveraux, dragging Beau with me as I went. “Big Titty Liddy was a real person?”
“And you knew her?” Beau asked incredulously.
“Of course she was. And young William. It’s an unfortunate fact the two didn’t remain together after the birth of their dear daughter, but such is the nature of relationships nourished solely by appetites of passion.”
Reid and I exchanged a glance.
We both looked away quickly.
And that is when I saw Coco and Ansel slipping away together.
Unfortunately, Beau saw it too. Scoffing, he shook his head and marched back to the campfire, bending low to snag a bottle of wine as he went. Reid stared after him with an inscrutable expression. As for me, I tried to discern Coco’s and Ansel’s silhouettes across the field, where they stood near a stream on the edge of the forest. They looked . . . close. Suspiciously close. Alarmingly close.
Deveraux interrupted my furtive observation. “You fear for your friend’s heart.”
“I—what?” I tore my gaze from them. “What are you talking about?”
“Your friend.” Sagely, he nodded to Ansel. “La jeunesse éternelle. He will remain eternally young. There are some who do not appreciate such innocence in a man.”
“There are some who are stupid,” I said, craning my neck to watch as Ansel—
My eyes widened.
Oh my god.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.
They were kissing. They were kissing. Coco had—she’d leaned in, and Ansel—he was actually doing it. He was playing the game, making his move. I inched closer, pride and fear swelling within me in equal measure.
Deveraux smirked and arched a brow. “Obviously, there are also some who do appreciate it.”
Reid dragged me back to his side. “It’s none of our business.”
I cast him an incredulous look. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No—”
But I didn’t listen to the rest of his reprimand. Shaking off his hand, I slipped around the wagons. Perhaps it was the wine that compelled me, or perhaps it was the way Coco held herself—stiff and awkward—like . . . like she . . .
Like she was kissing her kid brother. Shit.
She withdrew for one second, two, three, before leaning in to try again.
I crept around the stage, hiding within its shadows, close enough to hear her murmur for him to stop. Shaking her head, she wrapped her arms around her waist as if trying to make herself as small as possible. As if trying to disappear. “Ansel, please.” She struggled to look at him. “Don’t cry. This isn’t—I didn’t mean—”
Shit, shit, shit.
I pressed closer to the stage, straining to hear her whispered explanation. When a hand touched my back, I nearly leapt out of my skin. Reid crouched behind me, radiating disapproval. “I’m serious, Lou,” he repeated, voice low. “This is their business, not ours.”
“Speak for yourself.” Peeking back around the corner of the stage, I watched as Ansel wiped a tear from his cheek. My heart twisted. “Those are my best friends out there. If things get messy between them, I’m the one who’ll have to clean it up. It is absolutely my business.”
“Lou—”
Coco’s head whipped in our direction, and I lurched backward, knocking straight into Reid. He managed to catch himself before he toppled the entire stage, grabbing my shoulders for balance and pulling us both to the ground. I turned my head to whisper against his cheek. “Shhh.”
His breath at my ear sent chills down my spine. “This is wrong.”
“By all means, then, go back to the wagons.”
He didn’t, and together, we leaned forward, hanging on Coco’s every word.
“I didn’t mean for this happen, Ansel.” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry, but this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“A mistake?” Ansel’s voice broke on the word, and he stepped closer to clutch her hand. Fresh tears trickled down his cheeks. “You kissed me. You kissed me. How can you say it was a mistake? Why did you kiss me again if it was?”
“Because I needed to know!” Wincing at her outburst, she dropped his hand and started to pace. “Look,” she whispered furiously, “I’m a little drunk—”
His face hardened. “You aren’t that drunk.”
“Yes, I am.” She pushed the hair away from her face in agitation. “I’m drunk, and I’m acting like an idiot. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.” She clutched his hands then, winging them. “You’re a good person, Ansel. Better than me. Better than everyone. You’re—you’re perfect. Anyone would be lucky to have you. I just—I—”