Without another word, I turned on my heel and marched out the door. Ansel sighed in resignation before following suit.

“Reid isn’t going to like this,” he grumbled. “Besides, I don’t even know where he is.”

“Well, what is it you all usually do during the day?” I made to pull open the door to the stairwell, but Ansel caught it and held it open for me. Okay, I didn’t just like him—I adored him. “I assume it involves kicking puppies or stealing the souls of children.”

Ansel looked around anxiously. “You can’t say things like that. It’s inappropriate. You’re a Chasseur’s wife now.”

“Oh, please.” I gave an exaggerated eye roll. “I thought I’d already made it clear I don’t give a rat’s ass about being appropriate. Shall I remind you? There are two more verses to ‘Big Titty Liddy.’”

He paled. “Please don’t.”

I grinned in approval. “Then tell me where I can find my husband.”

A short pause followed as Ansel considered whether I was serious about continuing my big-breasted ballad. He must’ve decided I was—wisely—because he soon shook his head and muttered, “He’s probably in the council room.”

“Excellent.” I looped my arm through his and bumped his hip playfully. He tensed at the contact. “Lead the way.”

To my frustration, my husband wasn’t in the council room. Instead, another Chasseur turned to greet me. His close-cropped black hair gleamed in the candlelight, and his pale green eyes—striking against his bronze face—narrowed when they found mine. I fought back a frown.

Jean Luc.

“Good morning, thief.” He recovered his composure quickly, sweeping into a deep bow. “What can I do for you?”

Jean Luc wore his emotions as plainly as his beard, so it’d been easy to recognize his weakness. Though he masqueraded under pretense of friendship, I recognized jealousy when I saw it. Especially the festering kind.

Unfortunately, I had no time to play today.

“I’m looking for my husband,” I said, already backing out of the room, “but I see he isn’t here. If you’ll excuse me—”

“Nonsense.” He pushed away the papers he’d been examining and stretched leisurely. “Stay awhile. I need a break, anyway.”

“And how exactly can I help with that?”

He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. “What do you need from our dear captain?”

“A knife.”

He chuckled, running a hand down his jaw. “Persuasive as you are, it’s highly unlikely even you will be able to procure a weapon here. The Archbishop seems to think you’re dangerous. Reid, as always, interprets His Eminence’s opinion as the word of God.”

Ansel moved farther into the room. His eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t speak that way about Captain Diggory.”

Jean Luc inclined his head with a mocking smile. “I speak only truth, Ansel. Reid is my closest friend. He’s also the Archbishop’s pet.” He rolled his eyes, lip curling as if the word left a rancid taste in his mouth. “The nepotism is staggering.”

“Nepotism?” I arched a brow, looking between the two of them. “I thought my husband was orphaned.”

“He was.” Ansel glared daggers at Jean Luc. I hadn’t realized he could look so . . . antagonistic. “The Archbishop found him in the—”

“Do save us the sob story, won’t you? We all have one.” Jean Luc dropped his hand and shoved away from the table abruptly. He glanced back at me before returning to his papers. “The Archbishop thinks he sees himself in Reid. They were both orphans, both hellions as children. But that’s where the similarities end. The Archbishop created himself from nothing. His life work, his title, his influence—he fought for all of it. Bled for all of it.” He sneered, crumpling one of his papers and chucking it at the bin. “And he plans to give it all to Reid for nothing.”

“Jean Luc,” I asked shrewdly, “are you an orphan?”

His gaze sharpened. “Why?”

“I— No reason. It doesn’t matter.”

And it didn’t. Really. I didn’t give a damn about Jean Luc’s issues. But for someone to be so wholly blind to his own emotions . . . no wonder he was bitter. Cursing myself for my curiosity, I redirected my thoughts to my purpose. Procuring a weapon was more important—and frankly, more interesting—than those three’s twisted love triangle.

“You’re right, by the way.” I shrugged as if bored, sauntering forward to trail my finger along the map. He eyed me suspiciously. “My husband doesn’t deserve any of this. It’s pathetic, really, the way he waits for the Archbishop’s beck and call.” Ansel shot me a bewildered look, but I ignored him, examining a bit of dust on my finger. “Like a good boy—begging for scraps.”

Jean Luc smiled, small and grim. “Oh, you are devious, aren’t you?” When I didn’t respond, he chuckled. “While I empathize with you, Madame Diggory, I’m not so easily manipulated.”

“You aren’t?” I cocked my head at him. “Are you sure?”

He nodded and leaned forward on his elbows. “I’m sure. For all Reid’s faults, he has good reason for hiding his weapons from you. You’re a criminal.”

“Right. Of course. It’s just—I thought it might be beneficial to both of us.”

Ansel touched my arm. “Lou—”

“I’m listening.” Jean Luc’s eyes gleamed with amusement now. “You want a knife. What’s in it for me?”

I shrugged away from Ansel’s hand and returned his smile. “It’s simple. Giving me a knife would annoy the hell out of my husband.”

He laughed then. Tossed his head back and slapped the table, scattering his papers. “Oh, you really are a clever little witch, aren’t you?”

I stiffened, my smile slipping infinitesimally, before chuckling a second too late. Ansel didn’t seem to notice, but Jean Luc, with his sharp eyes, stopped laughing abruptly. He tilted his head to consider me, like a hound scenting a rabbit’s trail. Damn it. I forced a smile before turning to leave. “I’ve wasted enough of your time, Chasseur Toussaint. If you’ll excuse me, I need to find my elusive husband.”