The Sweetest Dark by Shana Abe Page A

all you ever saw was deceptive shadow. And I wondered if Chloe sensed that, either.
    Feral, whispered my inner fiend, plucking the word from my black, black thoughts. Alpha.
    The skin along the back of my neck prickled, and not in a good way.
    The breeze shifted. I was upwind and he was down and I swear I saw him lift his face to it, breathe it in deep—then turn at once to find me.
    No one else noticed. Our eyes locked.
    He didn’t offer me his icy smile. He hesitated, then gave a nod instead.
    It was enough to cause Chloe to tuck back her scarf and look my way. She definitely didn’t smile.
    Move, I thought. Turn around. Go back to the chapel, to the woods, hurry.
    But it was too late. Armand leaned close to speak to Chloe, walking off before she could reply. All the girls within earshot turned amazed faces toward me as he angled through them. Straight in my direction.
    I managed one step backward. That was as far as I got.
    He hadn’t run. He hadn’t even hurried. But he was there before I could take that second step.
    â€œMiss Jones,” Lord Armand greeted me, with another nod. “You made it, I see.”
    No thanks to you.
    â€œI did,” I replied. My mouth had gone inexplicably dry.
    â€œI realized we never finished our introduction last night. I’m Armand Louis.”
    He gave it the French pronunciation, Lew-eee, which wasn’t how Director Forrester had said it at all. It didn’t make me like him any better.
    He held out his hand. I didn’t take it.
    If I’m rude, he’ll go. If I make it clear I don’t like him, he’ll go.
    â€œHmm.” His hand dropped, but he didn’t leave. “Well. How is it?”
    â€œHow is what?”
    He made a vague, circular motion with the goggles. “The school. Mrs. Westcliffe. Everything.”
    â€œSatisfactory.” I took that second step back.
    â€œHave you seen the conservatory yet?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThe grotto?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œHow about—”
    â€œI’ve been at Iverson approximately twelve hours, my lord. I have been to my room and to church, and very briefly to dine. That is all.”
    Now he smiled at me, sharp and alluring, and it was just as unsettling up close as it had been from afar.
    â€œCall me Mandy.”
    â€œI don’t believe I will,” I said, with another step.
    â€œIt’s quite all right. Lots of the girls do.”
    I summoned my own chilly smile. “How lovely for you. Why don’t you go chat with them? I’m sure they miss you already.”
    â€œEleanore, look.” He matched my retreating step with a forward one. “About last night. You’ll have to forgive me if I—if matters didn’t turn out as you liked. It’s just that, you know, Chloe. She’s—”
    â€œComing this way,” I finished for him.
    And she was, striped skirts lifted with both hands, long coils of chocolaty hair blowing past her shoulders. She didn’t raise her voice, not quite, but the look she shot me could have melted steel.
    â€œMandy, darling! They’ve nearly finished unloading the motorcar, and I promised Lucille you’d take us for a spin along the coast. She’s got her hat and gloves and we’re all set to go.”
    Lord Armand didn’t even turn around.
    â€œTea’s at four,” he said to me. “It’s decent enough. Will you be there?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I answered, honest.
    Chloe had reached us. She placed a hand on his arm, fingers curving into his sleeve. The filmy tail of her scarf whisked up between them to tap against his coat.
    â€œReady?” she asked, almost a purr.
    Armand looked from me to her, then back to me. I saw the change come over him, an invisible shield that dropped across his eyes, no warning, no retreat. He resurrected that icy smile, then escorted Chloe back to their waiting group of safely adoring