“It’s going to take a hell of a lot longer than a moment.” Beau staggered upright and dusted off his trousers in vain. “This is—I can’t believe—we shared the same bed, and you never told me? I slept with a dragon!” He whirled to face me as if I hadn’t heard him, arms splayed wide. “An actual dragon!”

Coco stood faster than humanly possible. “You what?”

He lifted his hands just as quickly. “It was entirely platonic.” When her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, he retreated a step in my direction. I ignored him. Nicholina had wormed away from me. I pulled her back with a scowl. “I was cold,” Beau continued defensively, “so Seraphine offered her spot.”

Seraphine rested her head on Thierry’s shoulder. Refused to release his arm. He squeezed her hand with equal fondness, like a brother might a sister. “Some nights I can’t sleep,” she said.

“Yes, exactly.” Beau nodded to Coco. “She’s unusually kind, this one, even read to me until I—”

“She did?” Coco clapped her hands together with a terrifying smile. “Do tell me more. Tell me all about your cold night between Zenna and Seraphine.”

“Well, it wasn’t cold after that,” Beau said, either woefully ignorant or determined to prove his innocence. “I woke up sweltering. It was terrible. Almost died of heatstroke.”

“My temperature does run hotter than a human’s,” Zenna said.

“You see?” Beau nodded again—as if this settled the matter for good—while I tightened Nicholina’s binds. “Tell her, Zenna. Tell her it was platonic.”

Zenna arched that brow again. “Does it matter?”

Coco mirrored her expression. “Yes, Beauregard. Does it?”

He stared between them in horror.

“Don’t make me tie your ankles too, Nicholina.” I planted her in front of me when she tried to wriggle away again. “I’ll do it. I’ll carry you all the way to L’Eau Mélancolique if necessary.”

She leaned back, rubbing her cheek against my chest like a cat. “I think I’d like that, huntsman. Oh, yes. I think I’d like it very much.”

Mirroring my own frown, Zenna inhaled deeply. If she detected a new scent from Lou, she said nothing, instead shaking her head and returning her attention to Thierry. “Where is your brother, Thierry? Where is Toulouse?”

Though Thierry stiffened, he exhaled a resigned breath. Toulouse remains at the Chateau. I . . . escaped.

“Chateau le Blanc?” Zenna’s eyes flashed gold. Her pupils narrowed to slits. “Why? What happened?”

Thierry shook his head reluctantly. Morgane captured us in the tunnels. Or rather, she did. He jerked his chin toward Nicholina, who giggled and leaned forward, smacking her lips as if blowing him a kiss. Zenna growled. Thierry, however, continued undeterred. When the lights went out, she attacked. She’d cut my arm before I knew what had happened. She drank my blood. When she commanded Toulouse and me to lock ourselves away from La Mascarade des Crânes—to wait for her return—we had no choice. We had to obey. He looked to me apologetically. We heard your screams, but we couldn’t intervene. I am sorry.

I returned his gaze with as much solemnity as I could manage while Nicholina attempted to twirl in my arms. Like we were dancing. “I don’t blame you for what happened.”

He nodded. She collected us eventually. She and her mistress. La Voisin. They handed us and the wolves over to La Dame des Sorcières without hesitation. Morgane was . . . interested in us. In our magic. She incapacitated us with her injections and led us to the Chateau.

Smoke unfurled from between Zenna’s clenched teeth.

I cannot relive the horrors she inflicted upon us there. I will not. She wanted to—to discover the source of our magic. To test its limits. To study its differences from hers. I believe she did the same with the wolves. He watched silently as Beau, Coco, and I bore Nicholina to the ground like we’d done in the lighthouse. Coco forced her mouth open. Nicholina smashed her forehead into Coco’s face. Or perhaps now she simply likes to inflict pain. Either way, she experimented on us.

“Thierry,” said Seraphine.

“I will rend her head from her shoulders,” said Zenna. “And I will eat it.”

Célie waited with bated breath. “How did you escape?”

In the end, my voice saved me. Thierry gave a sardonic laugh. The witches on duty that night were younger. They’d never tended me before. Some sort of celebration raged above, and they arrived late, tipsy, to administer my injection. I could just feel my hands. My feet. I doused the lantern, waited for them to unlock the door. When they did, I projected my voice down the corridor. It disoriented them. When they turned toward the projection, I—I— He closed his eyes then. As if he couldn’t bear the memory. I overpowered them.

“They deserved it,” Zenna snapped.

Perhaps. Their last cries alerted others to my escape, however. I couldn’t find Toulouse. They’d separated us, used each to torture the other— He broke off abruptly, chest heaving. At last, he whispered, I had no choice but to leave him.

Seraphine touched his shoulder. “You could never have saved him without first saving yourself.”

I lost my way in the forest. I intended to go back. I need to go back. Unshed tears sparkled in his dark eyes when he finally opened them. I can’t leave him alone.

Zenna bent to meet his gaze directly. “And we won’t. We will return to Chateau le Blanc for Toulouse. For the wolves. Then we will raze that wretched castle to the ground with Morgane le Blanc and her Dames Blanches inside. This I promise you.”

“Promises, promises,” Nicholina muttered beneath her breath. “Empty promises. My mistress will be safe, yes, my mistress will be waiting.”

“Your mistress will keep waiting.” I readjusted my grip to enunciate the point. The crows couldn’t happen again. We’d need to be more vigilant. From here until L’Eau Mélancolique, I’d release her only for Coco to recoat her ropes. If she still planned to take Lou to Josephine—to Morgane—she’d have to drag my corpse behind. Exhaling slow, heavy, I asked Zenna, “How are you here? You said Claud sensed Thierry?”

She turned those golden eyes toward me. “Claud is not like you. He is not even like me.”