The Conspiracy of Us (The Conspiracy of Us 1)

“Oh, this is Avery,” Luc said. “She’s a relative of the Saxons, and since we’re all playing nice this weekend, she’s come out with us.”

I forced a smile in Liam’s direction. I wasn’t used to seeing him in clothes. He mostly did movies where his abs were the main character. “So you play . . . fantasy soccer?” Guys at every one of my schools had been into fantasy football. What a bizarrely ordinary thing for Luc and one of the world’s most famous actors to be talking about.

“I wish.” Colette LeGrand slipped an arm under Liam’s jacket. Her light, lilting French accent was even prettier in person. “They have bought the teams. Their little game takes up all Liam’s time.”

Of course they owned professional sports teams. That could be the most normal thing that had happened all day.

“Jesse knocked us both out last year,” Liam said. He must have meant his younger brother, who was the lead singer in Shadow Play, Lara’s favorite band. “He has Man U.”

Colette LeGrand pushed her wavy auburn hair behind her shoulder and rolled her eyes like, see what I mean? I gave her a tight smile, still a little shocked to be talking to people I’d only seen on screen and in tabloids, but I couldn’t help being wary of them, too. As far as I knew, anyone could be a spy.

We stayed at the bar for a few minutes, and I made sure to stand so I could see the whole club. Colette complimented my dress and I fished for something normal to say, finally settling on how her curls looked so perfect all the time—when I let my hair dry wavy, it was a frizz ball. While she told me, I studied Liam, who was laughing over a video on Luc’s phone. He and Colette both seemed to be acting normal, and I relaxed just a bit, looking around more widely. I noticed how Luc was already looking a little tipsy. And how he was paying no attention to me at all anymore—in fact, he seemed to be shooting surreptitious glances at the bartender. The bartender who was very cute, and also very male. I watched him for a second, and yes, that was definitely a little smile on his face when he caught the guy’s eye. And then I remembered how I’d seen him eyeing the people sitting next to us earlier. Now that I thought about it, there hadn’t been any girls at that table. And Luc was definitely a little more . . . vibrant than the other guys. Oh. I turned away so no one would see my sudden grin. Not that it was any of my business, but I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before, and for some reason, even more than Luc being nice to me, seeing this glimpse of what I assumed was a secret made me feel just a little better about being here with them. Like they were just people after all, going about their own lives.

Or Luc was, at least, I reminded myself, searching for Stellan again.

Colette looked around. “Our booth’s open. Let’s sit.” She slipped an arm through mine with a smile, obviously trying to make me feel comfortable, and I could see why she and Luc were friends.

“Why did you two come out tonight, anyway?” Luc said as we slid into the dark leather booth. Liam’s sandy-blond hair gleamed in the booth’s low red lights, and Colette lit a cigarette and blew smoke up at the ceiling, pursing her trademark full lips. “It’s dangerous for any of us to be out in public.”

Colette shrugged. “You’re here.”

“I have a reason to be. Plus, I’m less recognizable than you, and I have my Keeper with me. He has knives.” Luc pouted. “And guns.”

Colette peered over the crowd at Stellan, who was headed toward us but stopped halfway down the bar, looking at his phone. “He certainly does have ‘guns’ . . .” She gave Luc a wicked grin.

Liam cleared his throat.

“What? Can’t a girl look?” Colette batted her eyelashes and kissed him noisily on the cheek. Liam rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“Did any photographers see you arrive?” Luc said.

“A couple.” Colette played with her pendant necklace, which I now realized was an aged copper version of the Dauphins’ sun.

Luc’s cheerful face clouded over.

“I like to live dangerously, Lucien,” Colette teased. “Anyway, Liam is only a second cousin of the Fredericks, and I’m the same to you. You’re in more danger than we are.”

Luc raised a finger at a waiter for yet another drink. He turned to Liam, who was watching not entirely subtly while, next to our booth, a girl with a green pixie cut danced with a girl in a long pink wig, tracing a finger over the dragon tattoo covering her back.

“I hear one of your Keepers was terminated,” Luc said.

Liam snapped back around and frowned. “Yes. Xan was a good man. I wish my uncle hadn’t needed to punish him so harshly.”

I looked around at all their somber faces. “What did he do?”

“Went against a direct order.” Luc swigged his drink.

I leaned my elbows on the shiny black tabletop. “They fired him for going against one order?”

A glance passed between the three of them. “Fired is one way to put it,” Colette said carefully.

Wait. They weren’t saying the guy got put to death for going against an order? Before I could ask, Stellan emerged from the crowd. He nodded to Liam and Colette, then looked at the drink in Luc’s hand when Luc hiccuped.

Luc narrowed his eyes and downed the drink in one gulp. “Gonna go smoke.” He slid out of the booth and flopped onto a stool at the end of the bar.

“What’s wrong with him today?” Colette asked. “He’s been acting strange.”

Stellan watched Luc light a cigarette. “He’s been having a hard time with the babies coming and the mandate and all.”

The three of them started talking. At the bar, Luc rubbed a hand over his head, mussing his hair. I scooted out of the booth, too, pulling down my dress, which wouldn’t stop trying to inch up, and slipped onto the bar stool next to Luc.

“Hey,” I said. He didn’t look up, and I studied the sharp curve of his jaw, his angular, lanky frame. Besides the eyes, he looked nothing like me. But what if the Dauphins were my real family? If Monsieur Dauphin was my real father? That would mean Luc was my half brother. I felt a wave of affection for him.

“Everything okay?” I said. It was like the couple extra drinks had flipped a switch in him. He stared at his glass with big, miserable puppy dog eyes.

“Cherie, you’re so lucky.” He wasn’t even trying to talk over the music anymore. I could smell the sour liquor tang on his breath even over the cigarette. “You, Colette, Liam. You get the perks without the . . . devoir. Without the anxiety.”