Page 95 of Ashen Torment

“My mother begged me to offer her sincerest apologies. Cecil is not very well, she couldn’t come.”

“Give my regards to your mother.”

Then she turns toward other guests, he steps aside to let her pass, continuing to walk beside me.

“Your mother is very eloquent.”

“As always.”

I slide my hands over my sleeves, trying to smooth them.

“Viscount!” a shrill voice interrupts.

Ne gueule pas, foutre.

Richard and I turn.

Count Nádasdy is standing there, beside a man who keeps slightly apart, observing calmly.

“Count,” I greet, bowing my head slightly.

The pressure does not loosen its grip on my head.

“Count,” Richard repeats with a thin smile.

Count Nádasdy gestures elegantly to the flowers around us.

“All of this is truly delightful.”

He then turns to the side, introducing the man beside him.

“Allow me to present a very dear friend of mine, René Saint-Clair. He is an artist as well, a painter, in fact.”

I turn my gaze toward the man. Raven-black hair, straight, falling halfway down his back; grey irises, one eye slightly larger than the other, skin as pale as alabaster.

I have the distinct feeling I have met him before.

“It is a pleasure, Mr. Saint-Clair,” Richard says, his hands interlaced before him with polite composure.

The man barely tilts his head, then fixes my eyes with discreet attention.

“Mr. Saint-Clair.”

“You have a truly vast collection of poisons, Viscount.”

This voice...

I look down at his hands.

It’s him.

The man in the burgundy mask. The ring and pinky fingers of his right hand are missing.

Another voice interjects from behind.

“These are gifts of nature, not poisons.”

I clench my fist, the skin of my palm tight under my knuckles, and close my eyes for a moment.