Page 24 of The Forsaken

The Siren wasn’t simply a go-between for Andromena and her blackmailer; she was—in as far as fortune tellers went—a true seer who wielded genuine influence and commanded deep respect among everyone in the establishment.

She wore her power better than her silk cloak, pushing her hood back to reveal her face and showing she did not fear the viscount or his search.

Andromena decided the diviner’s name suited her. Long, blonde hair, very nearly white, fell in a fold about her shoulders. Her complexion was as fair as porcelain. Forget a mere diamond of society; this young woman was the storied mermaid her brothers and all sailors heralded.

The Siren kept her stare locked on Andromena, who felt the heavy stare of the trailing woman at every single stop. Her all-knowing eyes penetrated. They said, ‘I know all your secrets, and also the future on the verge of unfolding for you’. That stare pitied.

Charlatan or not, the Siren was connected to the man who held Andromena’s future in his hands.

The scruff of velvet fabric, and the catch of metal on metal, pulled Andromena’s attention to Edgar.

The viscount strode about the room, his chin high and his broad shoulders filling and shrinking the parlor. Through his search, he offered her a glimpse of the fearsome rival he made on the open waters.

He remained to the left of the window, sweeping his gaze past the glass before snapping the curtain shut and repeating the search on the other side. For an instant, she had a vision of him.

Her breath stopped.

Even with the viscount’s colossal pride, it was hard not to admire the air of self-assurance and strength he carried the way foppish and lesser gentlemen carried canes and monocles.

She cursed him for that and herself for being as impressed as the ladies who threw flowers at his feet.

Her gaze snagged on a sinister, hand-carved mirror; its scrolled ivy twined like snakes, and she intercepted an all-knowing smile from the Siren.

Heat trickled into Andromena’s cheeks.

Whatever the woman thought she saw, she didn’t.

Edgar was right earlier when he called the woman a charlatan. It would be far too easy, all too easy, for anyone to see the Andromena and the viscount here together, and make the same assumption about their association.

They couldn’t know their history. Their past, more specifically. How he tricked her and deceived her, and made a fool of her. And how much she hated him for it and how each of them went out of their way to let the other know how much they disliked one another.

Edgar put his looming frame between them, briefly disconnected from the horror of what she had done.

“The room is clear.”

The edge of her mouth tipped up.

“Are you annoyed at being denied a fight?” How very man-like of him. Never had she heard this man’s temper drawn short. She was really quite enjoying it.

“I’m annoyed at being here.”

That she believed, regardless of his disdain for her, he was an honorable man. He was motivated through loyalty to the Earl of Culross, and through that connection, to Andromena and the rest of the McQuoids he thought so poorly of.

“Thank you so much, Edgar,” she uttered softly.

A frown pressed his lips.

“For protecting me tonight, and for allowing me to do this.”

Reheating his blade, he pulled at his cloak. “Yes… Well… I will be outside.”

He pinned a warning look on the Siren. “Ten minutes.”

She stared as he let himself out.

Who knew the only way to silence Viscount Kerr and send him running was to offer him gratitude, she thought bemusedly to herself.

“Are you betrothed?”