Lucien without speaking. His posture was as arrogant as a kingâs.
âWe found them in the library,â Lucien said. He pushed Joan and Nick forward. âThey say theyâre volunteers here. But look.â He dragged up Joanâs wrist to show Edmund her bracelet with its silver-tongued fox charm. âThe girlâs a Hunt.â
The word Hunt rippled around the room in tones of distaste. As Joan followed the ripple, she saw a boy her own age, golden-haired and haughty. He was standing by one of thearched windows. Hunt , he mouthed at her with contempt.
âA Hunt,â Edmund echoed. His family might have been roused, but his own voice was very cold. He examined Joan from his great height, as though examining a specimen. âHalf-human, half-monster,â he said to her musingly. âIf your mother were an Oliver, youâd have been voided in the womb. But the Hunts have such tolerance for abominations.â
Joan stared up at him, shaken. People had said things all her life about her being half-Chinese and half-English. But Edmundâs flat tone and cold expression had somehow been as frightening as an overt threat. She had the feeling he wouldnât blink before killing her.
âWhat should we do with them?â Lucien said. âThe boy saw us arrive.â
Heâd said that in the library too. As though Nick was a problem that would have to be dealt with. Joan scanned for an escape route, trying not to be too obvious.
Edmundâs heavy hand landed on her shoulder, making her jump. He bent to examine her. âYou traveled for the first time,â he said to her. âRecently, I think.â He bent closerâclose enough that Joan could see the color of his eyes: the light gray of clouds on a gloomy day. For a long moment, she was caught in his gaze, like prey in the sights of a predator.
In the dim light of the chandeliers, she might have been the only person close enough to see his eyes widen. âItâs true, then,â he murmured. âThe Hunts have been keeping secrets.â
âWhat do you mean?â Joan whispered. What secrets?
âEdmund?â Lucien said. âThe boy.â
Edmund was still staring at Joan. He straightened slowly. To Joanâs dismay, his attention turned to Nick. âYou saw us arrive, boy?â he said.
âNo!â Joan blurted. Edmundâs expression was just like it had been in the painting: predatory. She thought about that image of the dead animal under his foot. âHe didnât!â Joan said.
But Nick had already started to answer too. âIâI saw everyone appear out of the air.â
Joan felt a sick swoop in the pit of her stomach. You must never tell anyone about monsters , Gran had said. But what happened to humans who found out?
Exits. There were five doors leading out of the Gilt Roomâtwo doors to the east, two to the west, and one directly ahead. But Olivers were blocking every one of them.
âDear me,â Edmund said to Nick. âEveryone appearing from the air . . . That must have been awfully frightening.â The words were warm, but his eyes were still a predatorâs. âYou must be wondering who we are.â He lowered his voice, as if divulging a secret. âWeâre monsters,â he whispered. âWe steal life from humans like you.â
âMonsters?â Nick whispered back.
He was so vulnerable, and he didnât know it. A human, in a room full of people who could steal his life from him with a touch. Joan couldnât bear it.
âI know what youâre thinking,â Edmund said to Nick. âYouâre thinking that monsters donât exist. But of course youâdthink that. Any human who learns the truth of our existence is killed.â
Cold dread washed over Joan. She threw herself toward Nick, but Lucien wrenched her back. âNo!â She fought Lucien desperately. âLet him go! You canât