Grinding my teeth, I heeled my horse up alongside Cécile’s. She held her reins with one hand, the other curled loosely against her thigh. I took hold of her fingers, and they were cold even through the leather of my gloves. “You’re freezing.” Pulling my glove off with my teeth, I enclosed her hand in mine, trying to chase away the chill.

“Cécile, are you all right?”

It was a stupid question. I knew she wasn’t, but I needed her to say something. Anything.

She turned her head to look up at me. “Will they hurt her?”

Élise. It took a lot of effort not to look away. A year ago, I would’ve answered without hesitation that Angoulême wouldn’t dare cross my family by hurting one of ours. But so much had changed since then, and I strongly suspected that Élise had not escaped unscathed.

“My aunt will do what she can for Élise.”

Cécile pulled her hand out of my grip. “That isn’t an answer.”

“Élise knew the risk she was taking,” I said. “You didn’t force her to do anything.”

“Didn’t I?” She shoved her hand into the pocket of my coat. “It was my idea to go to Trollus. My decision to linger in the Duke’s home to eavesdrop when I could have walked away without trouble. If I had only left, she wouldn’t have needed to put herself in danger.” Her face tightened. “I should have listened to you when you told me it was too dangerous. If anything happens to her, it’s my fault.”

“That doesn’t mean it was a mistake. You gained valuable insight that we never would have known if you hadn’t made those choices.” I said the words knowing they sounded callous. Anaïs would have argued that the reward was well worth the risk. Marc would have said that the choices had been made and that we’d need to live with the consequences. My father would say that hard choices were part and parcel of being king.

But what did I think?

“I know that the last thing you ever want is for someone to be hurt,” I said. “I know that given the choice, you’d forfeit your life to save that of a friend. But you know what would have happened if you had interfered when they came for Pierre. If you hadn’t let Élise help you escape. If you’d sacrificed yourself for them, what of everyone else? You don’t have a thousand lives to live or give; and as much as you might hate to think it, fate and fortune and whatever other powers are at work have made it so that your life is more important.”

Catching hold of her reins, I pulled both horses to a halt. “A good leader, a good ruler, is willing to lay down her life to save one of her people, but is wise and strong enough to know that she cannot.”

Cécile met my gaze, blue eyes bright with anger. “You’re the leader. You’re the ruler. Not me.”

I let go of her reins. “Are you certain about that?”

The only answer I got was her digging her heels into her horse’s sides and taking off at a gallop. I gave my own mount a kick, and he was more than happy to take off after Cécile, leaving me with the sole responsibility of not falling off the side. We were through Goshawk’s Hollow almost before I realized we were in it, the few people outside giving us startled looks as we flew down the one street. Then we were back in the woods, the boughs of the trees bending beneath the weight of the snow, and the only sound the thud of hooves.

Abruptly, she slowed her horse and veered off into the woods. Dropping into a walk, she wove amongst the trees before stopping next to a snow bowl. “This is the last mark on the map from my spell.”

“How do you know?” I asked, glancing around at trees and wondering what distinguished this spot from any other.

“The map is in my mind.” Her eyes were still and unblinking. “The parchment with the markers was only a physical manifestation of the knowledge – I didn’t realize it at first, but I never really needed it.”

It was a hard thing to comprehend, but I didn’t ask her to explain any further. I wasn’t sure if she could.

“I think the body is my grandmother’s.”

Given that the body of Genevieve’s mother had never been found, it was a reasonable enough assertion. I glanced at the trees, feeling a sense of unease in knowing Anushka had murdered a woman in the very spot we stood. That one day it could be Cécile she pursued through the darkened woods.

“Why was she here?” Cécile muttered, more to herself than to me. “What possible reason could she have had to come to the farm when by all accounts, she detested my father’s very existence.”

It was a good question, but not one we’d ever have an answer to. Whatever her reason for venturing to the Hollow, Anushka had caught up with her before she could fulfill it.

Without another word, Cécile turned back to the road, and we trotted along in silence before she eventually said, “I haven’t had a chance to send word to them about you, so this will come as a bit of a surprise.” Eyes forward, she walked her horse down the lane toward a modest-sized home and a larger structure that I expected was the barn. Four dogs with substantially more stature than Souris charged us, barking and baying; and ahead, I saw an older man come out of the barn, hand shading his eyes as he watched our approach. In the whites and greys of winter, there was no missing Cécile’s hair.

The door to the house swung open, and a blonde girl leaned out. She squinted at us for a minute, then went back inside, appearing again wearing a cloak and boots. An older woman followed, wiping her hands on the apron she wore.