I take another sip of tea; my voice is almost gone, and I’m exhausted.
“So the only names we have are Lambert, and a dog named Scruffy.”
“Yes.” I remember how the dog had seemed so happy to see me, and wondered if that had been staged as well. They had been very clever with their plan.
“And at no point did they mention myself or Soldats.”
“No.”
“Noir?” he asks, pen poised in air.
“Not once.” I shake my head. It does seem odd, I thought this happened because of our being Noir. For some reason, a chill runs over my body and I shiver.
“Your name or Mireille’s then?” he tilts his head, looking at me. I suddenly remember what Lambert said when they had come into the apartment.
“Mireille…”
“They said my name?” she asks, raising her brow.
“Not your name. They called you… the Corsican heiress.” I falter as I see her eyes widen. “They wondered…why you live like this.”
Mireille drops my hand. “Is that so.” She says quietly, standing up. She goes over to the dresser and picks up the little white baby seal, turning it over in her hands.
“And then she told Mireille on the phone that-”
“Kirika!” Mireille’s hands freeze and she looks at me, a warning flashing in her eyes.
“She told you what?” Uncle looks at Mireille. She glares back at him and slams down the seal on the dresser.
“I’m going to make more tea.” She whirls and leaves the room. He turns to me and nods his head in encouragement.
“She told her…that she should be ashamed of herself. That she was bred to be…better than this.” I can barely get the words out. Am I some object of shame? Is that why Mireille is upset?
“Uncle… is Mirelle…” I try to find the words, but am too tired.
He clears his throat, and tucks away his notepad. He gets up slowly, leaning heavily onto his cane. I can see the pain flash across his face.
“Mireille Bouquet was born to be a very wealthy and powerful young woman, if she so chooses.” He leans forward and ruffles my hair. “It’s in her bloodline.” His lip twitches, and his entire face looks troubled.
“And that, now coupled with her pairing with you, is more than enough for some people to see her as a tremendous threat.”
His hand runs over my hair, and tucks the sticky parts behind my ear.
“And you have become …”
“A target.” I whisper.

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