Page 39

My breath stutters at the sound of my brother’s voice carrying in from the entryway. Marie looks at me questioningly.

“That’s Damien,” I say, bewildered, turning on my heel to stare down the hall. “Damien?”

“Odile?” His voice sounds oddly strangled. “Odile, thank the Mothers. I’m here.”

It’s as though an invisible string is pulling me toward him. I’m moving before I can think twice, rushing back down the corridor, my hurried footsteps echoing through the empty Théatre.

“Odile, wait!” Marie calls behind me, but I hardly register it. Damien is here—Damien is free. Emotions toss and turn within me, each more conflicting than the last. The last time I saw my brother, he was glaring at me with potent fury from a prison cell. I doubt that anger has faded.

But I have a different perspective now. Marie has helped me see that perhaps there is value in telling the truth.

Once I reveal my plot to Aimé, I’m certain he will do whatever it takes to save Auréal, even if it means giving me the Couronne.

Perhaps I can accomplish Regnault’s mission without lies, without deceit.

And once my father realizes the Dauphin and Marie have helped us, surely he will no longer be so resentful of the noblesse.

It’s an impossible, honorable plan. A plan Damien would approve of.

Perhaps once he hears it, he will forgive me.

I could have my brother back.

But when I turn the corner and see Damien, I realize how much of a fool I am.

Because my brother is not alone.

Behind him stand the Regent, the Dauphin, and two guardsmen pointing muskets straight at me.

“That’s her,” Aimé says as soon as he sees me, gripping Damien’s shoulder with white knuckles. His eyes are no longer the soft blue of open skies—they’re the brittle, frosty hue of ice shards. “That’s the sorcier I saw in my stepmother’s rooms.”

The Regent steps forward, the guards flanking him. My pulse surges in my ears as I realize what is about to happen. Before I can turn and warn Marie, the Regent commands, “Seize her.”

The guards rush toward us. In the same moment, Marie arrives in the foyer and pauses, wide-eyed as she takes in the scene.

I try to shout at her to run, but one of the guards covers my mouth with a meaty hand as the other wrenches my hands behind my back.

I struggle futilely, bile rising in my throat as the Regent seizes Marie’s arm.

But to my surprise, he only pulls her to his side. Aimé rushes up to her, taking her hands and steering her away from the Regent. “Are you hurt, Marie?”

Marie stares at him. “Not at all. What’s this about?”

“How long has she held you hostage, mademoiselle?” the Regent asks.

“Who?” Marie demands.

“She must be confused by some spell.” It’s Damien who speaks up. His jaw is visibly tense, his head turned pointedly away from me. Of course. Too much of a coward to even meet my eyes. “This girl here.” My brother points at me. “She kidnapped you and took your place at the palace.”

Marie begins to shake her head, and I realize—not without shock—that she intends to defend me.

But I know that would be futile—if she admits to being involved with me, whatever I’m being accused of will fall on her too.

Panic surges through my limbs, and I clamp my teeth down on the guard’s hand, wrenching my head free.

“That’s right,” I say breathlessly before Marie can speak.

“I kidnapped her. She’s been locked up in the Théatre all along while I have been sowing chaos in the palace. ”

Damien scoffs. “Sowing chaos,” he says in that low, patronizing tone. “Is that what you call trying to kill the whole royal family?”

Oh. Of course that’s how this must look from Damien’s perspective.

His vengeful sister shows up at the Chateau with mysterious plans, and soon after, the King is murdered.

No wonder he looked so furious when I visited him in the dungeon.

After all, didn’t I once tell him that I would kill if I had to?

Marie makes a sound of indignation at Damien’s words, clenching her fists. “You’re wrong. That’s not at all what happened. If you would only listen—”

“She’s under my spell,” I say desperately, willing to do anything to stop Marie from becoming implicated in this. “She’s only defending me because I’m making her do it.”

Marie gives me a sad smile, and I know she can tell what I’m trying to do.

“I’m not under any spell,” she says steadily.

She looks from Regent to prince to guards with a ferocity to rival any warrior.

“I’m defending her because I want to. Because Odile is better than any of you deserve, because she didn’t—”

“Marie, it was me!” I shout. When she turns back to me, I hold her gaze with savage focus. “It was me. Five years ago, I stole the necklace the night of the banquet. I left it in your rooms the next day. I’m the one who ruined your life.”

For a moment Marie’s brows furrow in confusion. Then realization spreads over her features. She takes a step back, her hands rising to her chest as she takes a shaky breath, then another.

I can’t watch this, can’t witness the moment she realizes she should hate me. I seize the opportunity instead to whirl on my brother. “What did he promise you?” I demand, jerking my head at the Regent. “Did he vow to free you from the dungeons if you sold me out?”

“I didn’t promise him anything,” the Regent interjects, tapping his fingers along the pommel of his rapier. “Aimé simply made a compelling case for his innocence. After all, Damien here was locked in the city prison when Madame de Malezieu was killed. Quite a straightforward alibi, I must admit.”

Damien looks away. His time in the city prisons was not kind to him—there is a fresh cut across his lip, and scrapes shine on his knuckles. He looks like a martyr, self-righteous suffering and all. He looks haunted. But I refuse to pity him.

“Why?” I ask him hopelessly. “Why do this?”

At last, at long last, he meets my eyes. “Because I should have done it long ago.”

Something inside me crumples. I take a step back, my knees going weak, and the only thing holding me up for a moment is the guard clutching my wrists.

I look to Marie almost instinctively, seeking out some little comfort.

But when she sees me watching, her face shutters.

She looks away. Regret squeezes my chest. I’d expected this—I’d wanted this—but it still aches to know that moments ago I’d held her in my arms, her cheek against mine and her delicate hands curled around my shoulders. Now I’ve lost her.

Like Aimé, like my brother.

If Regnault were here, I know what he’d say. You should have known better, little owl.

“That ’s enough melodrama, I think.” The Regent’s harsh voice cuts through the brief, heavy silence. He turns to his guards. “Take the sorcier girl away. Discreetly. ”

The guard holding me nods and adjusts his grip. I hear the clink of something metal being procured. Behind us, the Regent says, “I believe the wedding can now proceed as planned?”

At the same time, the cold kiss of iron presses against my wrists, and I freeze, an animal panic seizing me. I try to push through the feeling, focusing instead on Aimé’s response.

“I… I don’t know if that’s appropriate,” the Dauphin says shakily.

Snick. A shackle closes cruelly around my left wrist, making my pulse jump. I force a breath through clenched teeth as the Regent responds to Aimé. “Don’t be a fool. We have guests from across the kingdom and beyond who have come to witness the event. The wedding must go on.”

“But what about everything Marie has been through?” Aimé argues. Out the corner of my eye, I see him reach for her, but she hardly reacts.

Then— snick. The second shackle closes.

“I think Mademoiselle d’Auvigny must agree with me.” There is a vicious sneer in the Regent’s voice. “After all, I doubt her family would survive another scandal.”

Oh, the snake. Unable to help myself, I jerk against my new restraints, wishing I could launch myself at the horrid man. Unfortunately, all my attempt earns me is the bite of cold metal against my wrists and a warning growl from the guard gripping me.

He begins to lead me away, but not fast enough.

Because I still hear Marie d’Odette speak up, her voice faint and devastated. “I agree with the Regent. The wedding must go on.”

I am thrown into the dungeons.

The cell is tight and chilly, the stone ground flecked with straw. It is bleak and punishing, cruelly mocking—the perfect reflection of my own internal thoughts. I crash to my knees on cold stone as the guard locks the bars behind me. I struggle to my feet and rush up to him.

“Wait!”

He scowls at me from beneath his mask, tucking the keys away. “What do you want?”

“I’m innocent. Please, you must believe me.” It’s humiliating to beg like this, but I have no other choice. “Get the Dauphin, please, and tell him I can explain everything—or Marie; at least let me speak to Marie—”

“The Dauphin and his betrothed will be busy preparing for tomorrow’s wedding. Afterward they may deign to grace you with their presence. If not, perhaps one of them will attend your execution, sorciere.”

The word sounds wrong coming from the mouth of a guard, all splintered and twisted like a badly broken bone.

“Please.” I grip the bars so tightly, the rough metal pricks my skin. “It was Anne de Malezieu. She was a sorcier too. She conjured the beast that killed the King.”

The guard laughs harshly. “You may have convinced the Dauphin there was a beast, but no one else believes it. A beast, in the Chateau? We would have seen it.”

My stomach lurches. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m no idiot. You sliced up the King, and then you sliced up the Queen, and we’re fortunate you didn’t manage to get to the Dauphin before you were stopped. No beast was seen, and so there was no beast.” He bangs his knuckles on the bars and strolls away, whistling to himself.