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Chapter 43

The next day, I found Viscount Latour on his own—in his house, before breakfast. I climbed in through the window.

So what? If assassins were allowed to do that, why could I?

As an honest half-demon, I wouldn’t even take a copper! I wouldn’t even kill the viscount, even if later, he would regret it. I got down to business straight away.

“Who gave you the love potions?”

A garrote around the neck was an iron-clad guarantee of truth. The viscount grunted, farted, and came clean. Of course, it had been Abigail’s doing. For the sake of variety, the viscount wasn’t her relative, but a shirttail cousin of Ruthina’s husband, and he had readily agreed to a short marriage.

His task had been to court Carlie, and after my marriage, arrange an accident for her, with the queen’s help.

Love? What are you talking about? How could I love a bastard’s whore? An assassin? Well...the viscount just couldn’t stand that—that vulgar girl wasn’t even a virgin.

I still have no idea how I was able to hold back. I
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