What was he doing here? “I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended it to be. “You made it clear you wanted nothing more to do with my delusions.”

He grimaced. “I didn’t mean it. I was angry, and… You’re my little sister, Cécile. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.”

Tension I hadn’t even realized I was carrying slipped out of my shoulders, relief filling me. Losing my brother’s goodwill and trust had bothered me, and having him back on my side meant a great deal. A spark of light in the darkness. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Can I walk you home?” he asked. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

I didn’t want to go home. Sneaking out had been hard enough, and I needed to talk to my friends about what we’d learned tonight. But I also didn’t want to turn down my brother’s tenuous peace offering, so I nodded.

We started to the main street, and Chris made to follow, but Fred rounded on him. “Can’t I talk to my sister alone without you listening to every word we say?”

Chris stopped and held up his hands in defense. “Sorry, I just…”

“It’s fine,” I said, catching my friend’s eye. “Wait for Sabine. Make sure she gets home safe. I’ll meet both of you at dawn for that ride we were talking about.”

Chris retreated back to the crew entrance without argument, but there was no missing the hurt in his eyes. I waited until Fred and I were out of earshot before saying, “If it wasn’t for the fact I knew you two used to be best friends, I’d never guess it for how you treat him.”

“I’ve been in Trianon for almost five years,” he replied in a low voice. “Things change. People change.”

“And that gives you the right to treat him worse than you would a stranger?”

“I don’t trust him.”

I nearly stopped in my tracks. “Whyever not?” There was no one more trustworthy than Christophe Girard. He didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body.

“Because I don’t understand his motives.” Fred pulled the hood of his cloak up. “Why’s he helping you with this mad plan of yours to free those monsters? What’s in it for him?”

“He’s helping me because he’s my friend,” I said, trying to shove down my rising temper. “And they aren’t monsters.”

“Right. It couldn’t possibly be because they’ve provided him some sort of incentive of the golden variety.”

“No.” I shook my head sharply, refusing to even consider the notion.

“Cécile…” He broke off as though his frustration with me were too great a thing to articulate. “It’s what the trolls do. It’s how they control the Isle – by buying everyone off and paying assassins to kill those who interfere with their schemes.”

“Because you know so much about them now?”

“More than you might think.” He stopped, pulling his horse around so it blocked the wind. “Cécile, I spoke to Lord Aiden…”

“You what?” Fury chased away the chill of the air. “Fred, you promised to keep quiet.”

“Would you listen?” He bent down so that we were eye to eye. “He approached me. He already knew everything about them and about you. Told me that the Regency has always known about them, but they can’t move against them for fear of what the trolls’ agents will do. Whole families have been assassinated in the worst sort of ways for even the smallest of slights.”

I swallowed, looking away from him.

“They know that none of this is your fault,” Fred continued. “They want to help you. Lord Aiden says there’s a way to get you free of the promise you made to find the witch. You could be done with all of this, and you could go home. If you’ll only speak to him…”

“No.” My voice sounded harsh and unfamiliar, the malignant power of my oath taking control of my mind, turning my thoughts dark and violent. “You will not interfere. And neither will they.”

Fred took a step back, bumping into his horse. “Cécile?”

I looked down, realizing with horror that my little knife was in my hand, blade extended. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, letting it slip from my fingers and into the snow. “I’m so sorry, Frédéric. You need to stay away from me.”

Spinning around, I hurried in the opposite direction, my breathing ragged. I was not in control of myself – that I’d been willing to harm my own beloved brother was proof. And it made me doubt every decision I’d made and action I’d taken since that fateful night on the beach. How much of this was what I wanted? How much was what the troll king wanted? Fear careened through my heart, because I was no longer certain of what I was capable of. Because I was starting to wonder if there was no line I couldn’t be driven across.

An arm wrapped around my head, and a damp cloth reeking of herbs and magic clamped across my face.

“I’m sorry, Cécile. I’m so sorry for this,” my brother whispered into my ear. “But it’s the only way I can help you.”

Then there was nothing.

Twenty-Nine

Cécile

I awoke, not with a start, but in a slow and arduous climb to consciousness. Footsteps thudded over my head – but it took a few moments of blinking at the gapped floorboards to realize I was lying on the dirt floor of a cellar, my feet and wrists bound and a rag stuffed in my mouth. I tried to spit it out, but the effort made me gag, which made my eyes water. My nose started running, and breathing became a challenge, little bubbles of snot forming, breaking, then dripping down my cheek. It was horrible, but so very fitting.