“What?” Jaromir cut in, unable to escape the feeling that he was rapidly being left behind in this exchange.
Amelie ignored him and continued speaking directly to Keegan. “It’s someone who cares for Mariah, but it could be anyone. It could be one of the Móndyalítko. It could be one of your soldiers or a miner who’s fallen in love with her. It could be anyone. I’ve stopped them for now, by promising I’d speak to you and tell you to leave Mariah alone. Keep your distance, and you’ll be fine. But if you ever, ever touch her again or you threaten to banish her and her sister, you won’t live through the night. Do you understand?”
Keegan’s eyes were locked on her face, and his breaths were shallow.
Without waiting for an answer, Amelie stood up and walked out of the tent. Céline and Jaromir looked at each other for a second or two, and then Céline turned to run after her sister.
“No,” Jaromir ordered, rising to his feet. “You stay here with him. I’ll go.”
Céline’s brow wrinkled uncertainly. “Lieutenant?”
He raised one palm in the air. “I’ll be patient, but I need to talk to her. You stay here.”
Turning, he strode out of the tent after Amelie. Upon emerging, he looked both ways, just in time to see her disappearing into the forest around the encampment. He followed and caught up quickly, finding her leaning over with one hand against a tree. He’d known she disliked Captain Keegan, but he’d had no idea how much. It would not do for her to want any specific person to be guilty. They were here to learn the truth.
“Amelie,” he said softly.
She whirled at the sound of his voice and seemed genuinely surprised to see him standing there. Did she think he was just going to let this go?
“Who poisoned Keegan?” he asked.
It had occurred to him for an instant that she’d been bluffing back in the tent, telling Keegan a lie to keep him away from Mariah. But then Jaromir realized Amelie wasn’t capable of that level of deception—Céline, yes, but not Amelie.
She watched him approach.
“Who?” he repeated.
“I can’t tell you.”
Despite his promise to Céline, he felt his temper rising. “Amelie! I’m in charge of both protecting you and solving this situation for Prince Anton. If there’s a poisoner in the camp, I need to know who it is.”
“It’s not my secret to tell. And it has nothing to do with these soldiers turning into wolves. I can swear on that. It’s over, and it won’t happen again.”
His eyes searched her face. In all his life, though he’d seen women more beautiful than Amelie, he’d never known anyone so pretty. Her sweet, pale face, silky black hair, and lavender eyes pulled at him every time he looked at her. She might be prickly on the outside, but he knew this was a shell she’d created for her own protection.
In addition, she made him think of home, of Castle Sèone. He missed it, and she was the only thing here that felt familiar.
Leaning in close enough that he could see flecks of yellow in her irises, he said, “Tell me who it is. I’m asking you.” Given his gentle manner and that he’d asked instead of ordered, he fully expected her to give him a name.
She shook her head.
For a second, he couldn’t speak, and his anger rose again. “This isn’t a game! You tell me who it is right now, or I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” she demanded. “What do you think you’re going to do, Jaromir?”
Her eyes flashed and she was breathing hard, and without thinking, he grabbed the back of her head and pressed his mouth over hers. He expected her to shove him away, but to his endless wonder, one of her hands gripped his sleeve, and then she was kissing him.
Amelie almost couldn’t believe what Jaromir’s mouth felt like as it moved against hers. She’d never kissed a man before, and whatever she’d expected, this wasn’t it. She could feel power flowing from him, from the strength in his jaw and the strength in his arms, but he wasn’t hurting her. The kiss felt . . . good. She gripped his sleeve, lost in the moment, and moved her mouth against his, drinking him in.
Pressing her against the tree, he slipped his tongue between her teeth, and she almost gasped. He pulled away slightly.
“Amelie,” he whispered.
Then he was kissing her again, and she didn’t want him to stop. She’d never felt anything like this. She put her other hand against his chest, and he moved one hand to her waist as he kissed her more deeply.
And then . . . without warning, a flash appeared in her mind of his last mistress, a lovely, haughty, wealthy young woman named Bridgette. Amelie had learned through the other soldiers that Bridgette was never allowed to visit Jaromir’s apartments until she was sent for—which was always the arrangement with Jaromir’s mistresses. For about six months, Bridgette had slept in his bed whenever he sent for her, and when he got tired of her, he’d cast her aside like baggage and never once looked back.
For the span of another breath, Amelie clung to the sleeve of his shirt and kissed him with force. But she knew she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t become another one of his obedient mistresses until he got bored.
Putting the flat of her hand on his chest, she pushed. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
“No,” she said raggedly.
At first she couldn’t move his body, and she pushed harder, slipping out of his grip and backing away. “No,” she repeated.
His expression was lost, and he took a stumbling step after her. “Amelie?”
Turning, she ran.
Sitting by Keegan’s beside, Céline couldn’t help feeling relieved when the captain fell back to sleep. They’d not spoken after Amelie and Jaromir left, but she’d fed him water and sponged his face, and finally he’d closed his eyes, giving her time to think.
She was curious to learn more about what Amelie had seen in his memories, but she had greater worries at the moment. They were no closer to solving the situation here than they’d been on the day they’d arrived, and Jaromir and Amelie appeared to be losing their ability to work together.
Céline felt guilty for having allowed Jaromir to be the one to go after Amelie . . . but those two did need to talk to each other. They needed to close the growing gap between them. Getting to the bottom of the horrors taking place in this camp was going require cooperation and collaboration among the three of them.
Sitting there by Keegan’s bed, Céline hoped Jaromir would not be so proud, and Amelie would not let her temper get the best of her . . . and that a few moments alone might give them both a chance to reach out to the other.
Footsteps sounded from behind her, and she turned her head just in time to see Jaromir coming around a hanging tapestry. Right away, at the sight of his face, her hopes were dashed.
“What happened?” she asked.
She didn’t think she’d ever seen him fighting so hard to keep control of himself, but he ignored her question and was clearly struggling to keep his voice steady.
“I’ve taken command of the camp,” he said, “and now I’m giving the orders.” His voice broke slightly. “Céline . . . we have to solve this. We need to end this and go home.”
She wondered if he’d ever forgive her for having seen him in this moment of weakness.
“What do you want to do?” she asked quietly.
“Exactly what we did back in Sèone. I’ll organize the soldiers, and you start reading. Get me the name of the next victim, and I’ll take it from there.”
She closed her eyes briefly, thankful that she and Amelie were about to be given a free hand.
“You wish me to look for the next victim?” she asked. “Might it not be better to have Amelie start reading pasts and see if she can’t find out who’s doing this?”