Page 107 of The Dragon and the Dove

Ransom was reclining in the window seat on the landing of House Armand, cleaning his nails with the point of his switchblade, when Caruso emerged from his bedroom.

He waggled his fingers in greeting. ‘Sleep well, Dantes?’

Caruso winced at the sudden flood of light. ‘It’s a hell of a lot brighter here than the catacombs.’

Ransom kicked his feet off the bench and turned to face his former ally. ‘What about the Summer Palace? Silk sheets and servants, was it? Or did you curl up to sleep on the prince’s lap every night?’

That earned him a flat look. ‘If we’re going to do this, at least let me have a coffee first.’

Ransom rolled his hand. ‘I’d rather get it over with.’

Caruso had slept in, while Ransom had been up all night. It was mid-morning and he’d already been down to the dining room for an entire carafe of coffee. The whole place had been mobbed, Cloaks and Flames, mingling freely over breakfast, chatting mostly about the sorry state of Valterre.

Val had found him there, sitting alone in the corner. The Saint of Truth had slunk over to his table and told him about Caruso as if he were simply a stray cat she’d taken in while they were away.

‘Suspicion got you skulking outside my room like a stalker?’ Caruso sneered now. ‘You know I do my killing sprees at midnight.’

‘And I do mine in the shadows,’ said Ransom, pocketing the switchblade. ‘If I wanted you dead, I’d be looking at your corpse.’

Caruso barked a laugh. ‘I missed you too, brother.’

The ice between them began to thaw. It was not quite an apology for what had gone down at the Summer Palace all those weeks ago, but, knowing Caruso, it was as close as he was going to get.

‘I figured you’d turn up here sooner or later,’ said Ransom.

Caruso shrugged. ‘Morality finally got its claws into me.’

‘Is that what you’re calling Val these days?’

‘Piss off with all that feeling bullshit.’

Ransom smirked. ‘Keep your feelings to yourself. I only care about your intentions. If this is some grand plan cooked up by Lark and Andreas, I swear to Saint Calvin, I’ll gut you open and tear out your heart.’

Caruso crooked a brow. ‘What heart?’

That’s exactly what Ransom was trying to figure out.

Caruso added, ‘Val is a Saint of Truth. Ask her about my intentions.’

‘She already pleaded your case.’

At Caruso’s look of surprise, Ransom rose from the bench, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Go and eat. We have a meeting in an hour.’

At noon they convened in the vault. Mercure, Fontaine and Albert sat on one side of the table, while Ransom and Seraphine occupied the other, flanked by Anouk, Theo, Val and Paola. Fabian and Tobias clumped together in the hall, spying shamelessly through a crack in the doorway.

And then there was Caruso, seated at the far end of the table, with his chair kicked so far back it perched against the wall. He, alone, was eating. Devouring a glazed cherry pastry, like he hadn’t just polished off breakfast an hour ago.

‘Damn, that was good,’ he said, licking his fingers. ‘Compliments to the chef.’ He turned on Ransom. ‘Why the fuck did Dufort never feed us down in the catacombs?’

‘Didn’t he ever leave out cheese for his tunnel rats?’ said Theo.

There was a skittering of laughter from the hallway.

Caruso raised his cup in mock salute. ‘I forgot what a pain in the ass you were, Versini.’ Ignoring the steam still rising from his coffee, he slugged the rest of it. ‘Some nights I was so hungry I used to trawl the bone walls just to gnaw on a ribcage or two.’

‘All saints,’ muttered Albert.

Anouk paled.