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“Nonsense.” Beau claims the seat on the other side of me, immediately tipping it back on its hind legs and lacing his fingers behind his dark hair. “If the lady vampire fancies a nip now, Célie can kick her ass for me.” He smirks in my direction. “Isn’t that right?”

“What?” Distracted, I speak without thinking, and I instantly pay the price; fire rips up my throat, and my eyes water at the sheer pain of it, at the potent taste of my friends on my tongue. I can’t simply ignore Beau this time, however, and I don’t think a simple nod or shake of my head will effectively communicate the scope of his stupidity. “Odessa isveryold,” I gasp. “Very strong. I—I watched her rip out a vampire’stonguewith her bare hands.”

Odessa’s voice echoes down the hallway. “And never forget it, darling.”

Beau snorts and lands back on all fours with aplunkbefore tucking into his stew. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Célie. You’ve trained with the Chasseurs. I’m sure you could rip out a tongue or two—preferablyhersif she keeps pontificating about the best ways to enact a trade embargo.”

“Better than hearing her describe—in lavish detail—how all of your ancestors died,” Lou says wryly.

“Oh, no, she gifted me with that happy knowledge too,” Beau says. “Apparently, a stag gored my great-great-great-grandfather to death while he answered nature’s call on the royal hunt—”

I interrupt before either of them can gather steam, my head starting to pound once more. The blood in their veins smells delectable, yes, but the blood in my bowl smellsfoul. “That is disgusting, and I havenodesire to touch a tongue.”

Liar.

“Perhaps you just haven’t found the right one yet,” Coco says judiciously.

“Speaking of which—” Beau turns to Reid before I can answer, and my hands fist in my skirt as his scent washes over me anew, as Filippa laughs and urges me closer. He points his spoon at the empty chair beside me. “Whereisyour insufferable little friend? He wasn’t at the castle this evening.”

Though I’ve been refusing to think of Jean Luc, the question still catches me by surprise—or perhaps it isn’t the question at all but the wording. Because he called Jean LucReid’sinsufferable friend, not mine, and I—I suppose that’s true now. The realization acts as a cudgel. It breaks the thrall of Beau’s blood.

Reid sends me a furtive look, but I pretend not to see it as he says, “He couldn’t get away from the Tower. He sends his regrets.”

Despite my best intentions, my eyes flash to his. “No, he doesn’t.”

We stare at each other for a single, startled heartbeat.

“Célie, he—” Reid hesitates, clearly torn. Though he’d rather swallow his kitchen knife than have this conversation, Reid is still Reid, and he has never lied to me before. “Give him space,” he says at last. “He’ll come around eventually. He’s just... he’s having a hard time with all of this.”

The words—spoken so earnestly, so innocently—slip below the molten heat that simmers inside my chest, filling the yawning emptiness that I’ve felt since waking up as a vampire. Since waking up dead.He’s having a hard time with all of this.

“Is he?” I ask softly.

Kill them, Filippa says, softer still.

The table seems to draw a collective breath at my expression, and the cobwebs of Lou’s magic brush my skin. They cloak the raw edges of my anger, and I hate them—Ihatethem—and resist the urge to claw at my flesh, to peel away each bloody layer until I’mmeagain, until I’mCélie. Not someone who hallucinates about her dead sister. Not someone who inadvertently inches her chair closer to the human beside her, who calculates the exact seconds it would take to debilitate first Beau, then Coco and Reid. Lou sits directly across the table, so she’d take longest to reach. She’d be hardest to subdue too, but herblood—

My gums split open at the thought, and my fangs descend—saliva bursting, pooling,spreadinguntil my gorge rises and I choke on it.

Oh God.

Flinging myself backward, I topple my chair, and white spots burst in my vision.Oh God oh God oh God.My chest heaves as I struggle to hold my breath, and they’re all staring at me now, wide-eyed with alarm. Both Reid and Coco have half risen from the table, and Beau sits absolutely still, like I’m a wild animal—a predator—and he dare not move for fear of drawing my attention.You’re halfway there, Célie.

Only Lou gazes calmly back at me. “You should probably eat now.”

In my periphery, Odessa and Mila appear in the hallway, silent and watching.

“I’m s-sorry.” I clutch the kitchen wall with one hand, covering my mouth with the other and hiding my teeth from the room. Fresh tears of humiliation burn beneath my lids. All I seem able to do these days is apologize, yetJean Lucis having a hard time? “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean— I should—”

With the flick of her wrist, Lou straightens my chair and pushes my bowl to the edge of the table. With another, steam curls from the blood once more. Though she doesn’t appear frightened like the others, the twinkle in her turquoise eyes has gone out, and her face seems paler than usual. Iamendangering her family, after all. Her home. The molten heat in my chest turns to ice.

“Eat, Célie,” she says.

I feel myself nod, taking a tentative step forward. Then another. The silence weighs heavy over the room as I resume my place at the table, careful to move slowly for Beau’s sake. He sits straighter than before, his fingers tight upon his spoon. I pick up my own without a word, dipping it beneath the crimson surface of my bowl and lifting it to my lips.

The blood tastes as foul as it smells.

I do not grimace, however, or give any other indication of my discomfort, even as my sister whispers,How long can you survive like this, ma belle? How long before your body takes control?