“The Court of the Lions,” Celine corrected in a kind voice.
Pippa’s gaze widened in understanding, undoubtedly arriving at the same conclusion Celine herself had come to not long ago. That, yet again, Celine was responsible for dragging her friend deeper through a field of razor-sharp diamonds.
Perhaps it was simply her fate to be a portent of doom.
Odette rolled her eyes. “That’s not Kassamir’s doing. That’s Bastien’s. Honestly, that boy could sell a snowball to a penguin.” She snickered. “You would never suspect how dramatic he truly is.” Her features turned rueful. “Ah, but if he heard me say that, he would stare at me with those dagger eyes of his until I apologized. Really, men are such infants.”
Distracted by her worries, it took a moment for Celine to register Odette’s words. Her blood turned cold. “Bastien? Are you referring to Sébastien Saint Germain?”
Odette’s eyes went wide. “Yes, that’s him. Un vrai démon, n’est ce-pas?” She sniffed. “At least he’s a welcome sight for the eyes. Have you ever seen a more handsome devil?”
“No,” Celine admitted. “Unfortunately, neither has he.”
“Parfait! Simplement parfait!” Odette clapped her hands, her laughter lilting into the coffered ceiling. Then she resumed chattering without pausing for breath.
Somewhere high above the clouds—or deep below in a fiery pit—an otherworldly creature must be having a grand time at Celine’s expense. Her shoulders fell forward, her lips thinning into a line as the words continued flowing from Odette’s lips like wine at a Bacchanalia.
“Bastien’s uncle owns this entire building, as well as several properties in the Vieux Carré,” Odette said. “Of course you’ve heard of Le Comte de Saint Germain. Rich as Croesus and charming as sin. Bastien is his sole heir, a fact that hasn’t gone unnoticed by the débutantes of our fair city, despite the . . . concern many in society have with regard to his parentage.” Her laughter became mischievous, a sly flutter of sound. “I’d wager money solves most problems, non?” She winked. “Though I myself speak only three languages, the Count has mastered nine and can quote entire swaths of scripture on a whim. He’s also an immense fan of the—” She stopped short when she noticed the glazed look on Celine’s face. “Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself.” Odette leaned conspiratorially toward Pippa, who stood to one side, her fingers threading and unthreading through each other. “Don’t believe all the nasty rumors. Bastien’s uncle is a gem. After Bastien’s parents died, he took him in as a boy and cared for him like his own.”
Celine cleared her throat, bewildered by the onslaught of information. “This is the first I’ve heard of the count, and I was only . . . introduced to his nephew this evening.”
Odette tilted her head. “The count is not in the city at present, but I suspect Bastien should arrive at any moment.” She began scanning the plush carpet, her gaze weaving around the chair legs. “In any case, you should be on the lookout for Toussaint.”
“What?” Celine refrained from shifting backward. “We should be looking for something . . . on the floor?” After witnessing chess pieces offer their own surrender, Celine did not want to be caught unawares by naughty parlor tables or stools with errant senses of humor.
“Don’t be alarmed. It’s really nothing at all.” Odette gestured once more with her hands, a reaction Celine had come to associate with agitation. “Toussaint . . . is Bastien’s Burmese python.” She rushed through her next words. “Really he’s completely harmless. The poor angel adores his rest and wouldn’t hurt a mouse.” She grimaced and bit her lip. “Zut alors. I meant figuratively, of course.” Odette brightened. “Just wait. Before you know it, you’ll all be the best of friends.”
It took a moment for her explanation to register, disjointed as it was.
Bastien’s Burmese python.
Bastien’s giant snake.
Though the serpent in question had yet to make an appearance, Pippa stifled a small shriek and jumped backward, scrambling for a chair or something upon which to stand. Celine remained rooted to one spot, a familiar rush coursing through her veins.
Odette cast them a rueful glance. “Occasionally, Toussaint does like to wrap himself around anything warm, but please know you have nothing to fear. I only mentioned him because—if you don’t know to look for him—he can be a bit . . . disconcerting.”
“A snake?” Pippa squeaked, looking for all the world as if she wanted to melt into the paneled wall at her back. “What kind of person has a pet snake?”
“Lucifer,” Celine said in a flat voice. “Lucifer would have a pet snake.”
A trill of laughter burst from Odette’s lips as she reached for her glass of wine. “Ah, you simply must tell me what happened when you were introduced this evening. How delicious!”
Celine sucked in her cheeks to marshal her retort.
Pippa’s blue eyes darted across the floor while she gnawed on her lower lip, her fingers toying with the golden cross around her neck. “We encountered Mr. Saint Germain on our way here. He wasn’t”—she hesitated—“as gracious as he should have been.”
“I’m unsurprised to hear that,” Odette said. “Bastien is like a character from a childhood nursery rhyme. When he’s good, he’s very, very good. When he’s bad, well . . . I’m sure you can finish the rest.”
Celine certainly could. But she refused to waste more time contemplating that wretched boy and his ridiculous pet snake. It would take effort, but Celine intended to put a swift end to . . . whatever worrisome interest this beautiful boy had managed to wake in her.
In truth, she didn’t understand it at all. They’d barely spent less than a moment in each other’s presence, and a handsome face was not enough to distract her from his many misdeeds. Before the night was through, Celine intended to have a firm rein on her emotions.
Nothing good ever came from letting them run amok.
Her gaze settled on a painting in a gilt frame across the room. She let her sight distort until its edges glowed molten gold. Celine hated how much her notice of a boy like Bastien brought to light how broken she was. In one short evening, he’d become a proverbial thorn in Celine’s side. A reminder that something inside her was not right.
Perhaps that was it. Perhaps it wasn’t a fascination with him at all. Perhaps it was the allure of the creature that lurked within her. Not too long ago, that creature had granted her immense power over a tormenter and freedom over her life.
But it had also made her a murderess.
Celine’s expression hardened. She would put an end to all of it. Immediately.