Despite my exhaustion, I broke into a run. It wasn’t just the cold driving me along – I sensed someone was watching me. My skin prickled, my eyes searching the street ahead and behind, but the darkness and the thick snow made it hard for me to see more than a few yards in any direction. Letting go of my cloak, I fumbled in my pocket for the small knife I kept, clutching it tight.

It was no small amount of relief when I reached home. Fumbling for the key, I had to try three times to get it in the lock, my hands were shaking so badly. I kept waiting for someone to come up and grab me, right when I thought I was safe. When the door finally swung open, I staggered in and slammed it hard behind me.

“Where have you been?”

My heart froze in my chest. Slowly, I turned around to face my mother. “What are you doing home so early?” I asked weakly.

“Answer my question,” she barked.

I stared at the floor, my mind racing. I had said I was staying home all evening, but even if I hadn’t, I had no good reason to be out past midnight in a blizzard. “Frédéric,” I started to say, but she interrupted.

“Your brother is on duty at the palace. I saw him myself, so don’t even try to say otherwise.” She loomed over me. “And you certainly weren’t out with your fellows in the company, no!” she scoffed. “No, that would be far too out of character for me to believe. Your lies are what is in character.”

I stepped back as she flung her hands up. “For weeks you’ve been sneaking off, never telling me the truth about where you go. You deceitful, ungrateful little…”

“What do you care?” I shouted. “You’ve never cared before where I went, so why now? What difference does it make if I’m out with Christophe instead of with Julian?”

Her face darkened, blue eyes narrowing. “So that’s it then?” She made a face. “I smell the horses on you now. A little roll in the hay with the stable boy?” Her face twisted and she spun away from me. “You’re going to ruin your life, Cécile. What was the point of you ever leaving Goshawk’s Hollow if you let a farmer get you with child?”

I flushed a dark red. Did I let what she was thinking stand? It was better than her finding out I was practicing blood magic in her kitchen and roaming the many city cemeteries in the dark of night, wasn’t it? Better than her finding out that I was trying to release legions of mythological creatures who were currently cursed to their underground city. “What’s wrong with Chris?” I demanded, pushing my way past her and into the great room.

“He’s a farmer. He hasn’t got any money.”

I rounded on her. “Father was a farmer.”

“Exactly,” she snapped. “And look how well that worked out for me. Being forced to choose between my family and my career. I’m warning you, darling, don’t go down the same path. Choose someone who won’t force you to make sacrifices.”

I stared coldly at her. I knew all this, of course, but hearing it out of her mouth was still astonishing. “Like the Marquis?” I said. “If rich is what counts, mother, you chose well.”

Her eyes narrowed. “The Marquis is my patron, girl. He pays for all this, supports the company, keeps us in favor with the Regent. And in exchange, all he asks is that I entertain him and his friends.”

“Of course, Mother,” I said. “Everyone knows that all he’s interested in is your…” I drew the pause out, “… voice.”

She slapped me so hard that I staggered backwards. “You know nothing,” she shrieked, then lunged at me.

I shoved her backwards. “Leave me alone!” I was angry – too angry – and the dark power of death still flickered inside of me, adding weight to my words.

She stumbled backwards, her eyes glazing over. “It’s my life,” I said, clenching my fist. “Not yours.”

Snatching up my skirts, I bolted upstairs to my room. Flinging the door open, I was confronted with a wall of cold air. The window was open, snow blowing in and dusting the carpets with white. Hurrying over, I slammed the glass shut. Then I stopped in my tracks, goose bumps rising up on my flesh. I hadn’t left the window open before I left. Slowly, I turned around.

A single candle burned on my desk, and on the mirror above it – written in smears of red – were three words: Tick, tock, Princess.

Twenty-Two

Tristan

The sounds of a mob growing began to permeate the walls of the palace not long after curfew broke at shift change, though from the sounds of things, none of the day crew had gone down into the mines. It was a sure sign of their fury that they’d dare risk not meeting quotas. Despite knowing this would happen, having this much anger directed at me still made me uneasy. I’d been wrong to think that being ignored was the most horrible sort of punishment. This was far worse.

Someone hammered on the door to my rooms, and I jumped, for a moment thinking that the mob had somehow breached the palace gates and was even now coming for my head. “Come in.”

The door opened, and Guillaume stepped through, a smile plastered across his face. I hadn’t seen him since Cécile left Trollus, and I would have preferred to keep it that way. “His Majesty has ordered your presence in the throne room. Now.”

I followed him out into the corridor, where I found six more guards waiting. “This isn’t necessary,” I said. “I’ll go voluntarily.”