Of Blood and Roses

Chapter 26

When Jourdon came for me the following evening, I met him with a smile, like the night his mother had died never happened. His attire was the usual Garnetti black, red garnets encrusting his sleeves, red thread gleaming along his doublet, a sharp contrast to what I wore.

 I had been dressed in a spectacular gown of dusty rose and gold, small little pink blossoms embroidered into the thick silk. Matching ones were artfully placed through the red curls wound and coiled atop my head.

He nodded at me, a measured distance between us as he approached. He didn't meet my gaze. Darkness smudged his olive skin, and weariness weighed down on his shoulders. I hesitated, noting the red rimming his eyes.

While I had been off frolicking with Pierre in the garden, Jourdon had been in mourning. Guilt stabbed through me, but it was short. I steeled myself against the emotions. It was true that he was mourning, but there had also been another Aurelian meeting last night. He was likely tired from having been up to late plotting my murder.

"I am glad to see you are well, Ophelia. We haven't had much time to talk—"

I reached out, linking my arm through his. "Please, let's not talk of that. Tonight should be a joyous affair."

One made even better when I left him behind me for good. But he couldn't know that. I didn't want to know what he might do to stop me.

Jourdon pressed his lips together but nodded, and we headed towards the ballroom.

I listened carefully, hearing Darren fall in line with us along with another Garnetti guard. In our brief discussion earlier today when I pretended to stroll in the garden, Darren was adamant that tonight go smoothly. I had not seen Sabine since last night, but I assumed I would see her among the servants at the ball.

I glanced up at Jourdon's profile. There was a tension around his eyes that hadn't been there before. My arm tensed in his, and I had to force myself to relax.

If only Sabine had been able to come to me and tell me what transpired the night before. 

Suddenly, Jourdon stopped, turning to me. "Ophelia, listen—"

I cut Jourdon off before he could say more, panic swelling inside me. "Should we be lingering? Your father will be there tonight."

 I looked sharply at Darren. What if Jourdon made a move right now? Darren started forward, jaw tense as his hand fell down in line with his sword, prepared at any moment to unsheathe it.

Jourdon frowned. He glanced up the hallway, the music of the ball drifting towards us. "Yes, but there's something you need to know. My brother—"

I stiffened. Did he know about Pierre and me? I knew I hadn't been the most discreet, but now was the worst time to discuss it.

"Please," I urged, cutting him off again. "Let's not do this now."

Jourdon's brows creased and he looked conflicted before nodding. Had I cared for him at all, I might have felt bad. But Jourdon meant nothing to me, not after all the things I had learned about him.

"Very well. But please, later. This discussion cannot wait."

My jaw tensed, but I smiled. There would be no later. I was leaving tonight. Neither Pierre nor Jourdon would be concerns of mine anymore. I was going home.

"Later then, I promise," I lied. "We can discuss it after the ball."

Jourdon heaved a sigh, not looking convinced. His eyes were creased with something that resembled concern, but that couldn't be right. Perhaps I was misreading him. It wouldn't be the first time.