Earlier, we’d determined that Tremblay employed six guards to patrol the house. Three would be posted inside, but Bas would see to them. He had quite a skill with knives. I shuddered and crept onto the lawn. My outdoor targets would suffer a much kinder fate. Hopefully.

Not even a moment had passed before the first guard rounded the townhouse. I didn’t bother hiding, instead throwing my hood back and welcoming his gaze. He spotted the open gate first and immediately reached for his sword. Suspicion and panic warred on his face as he scanned the yard for something amiss—and spotted me. Sending up a silent prayer, I smiled.

“Hello.” A dozen voices spoke within my own, and the word came out strange and lovely, amplified by the lingering presence of my ancestors. Their ashes, long absorbed by the land until they were the land—and the air and the trees and the water—thrummed beneath me. Through me. My eyes shone brighter than usual. My skin glowed lustrous in the moonlight.

A dreamlike expression crossed the man’s face as he looked at me, and the hand on his sword relaxed. I beckoned him closer. He obliged, walking toward me as if in a trance. Only a few steps away, he paused, still staring at me.

“Will you wait with me?” I asked in the same strange voice. He nodded. His lips parted slightly, and I felt his pulse quicken under my gaze. Singing to me. Sustaining me. We continued staring at one another until the second guard appeared. I flicked my gaze toward him and repeated the whole delicious process. By the time the third guard came around, my skin glowed brighter than the moon.

“You’ve been so kind.” I extended my hands to them in supplication. They watched me greedily. “I’m so sorry for what I’m about to do.”

I closed my eyes, concentrating, and gold exploded behind my eyelids in an infinite, intricate web. I caught one strand and followed it to a memory of Bas’s face—to his scar, to the passionate evening we’d spent together. A trade. I clenched my hands into fists, and the memory vanished as the world tilted behind my eyelids. The guards fell to the ground, unconscious.

Disoriented, I opened my eyes slowly. The web dissipated. My stomach rolled, and I vomited into the hedge of roses.

I probably would’ve stayed there all night—sweating and puking at the onslaught of my repressed magic—had I not heard the soft whine of Tremblay’s dogs. Coco must’ve found them. Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I mentally shook myself and crept toward the front door. Tonight was not the night for squeamishness.

Silence cloaked the inside of the townhouse. Wherever Bas and Coco had gone, I couldn’t hear them. Creeping farther into the foyer, I took stock of my surroundings: the dark walls, the fine furniture, the countless trinkets. Large rugs in tawdry patterns covered mahogany floors, and crystal bowls, tasseled pillows, and velvet poufs littered every surface. All very boring, in my opinion. Cluttered. I longed to rip the heavy curtains from their rods and let in the silver light of the moon.

“Lou.” Bas’s hiss emanated from the stairwell, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Coco’s warning reared to life with terrifying clarity. There’s something waiting for you at Tremblay’s. “Quit daydreaming, and get up here.”

“I’m technically night dreaming.” Ignoring the chill down my spine, I half sprinted to join him.

To my surprise—and delight—Bas had found a lever on the frame of a large portrait in Tremblay’s study: a young woman with piercing green eyes and pitch-black hair. I touched her face apologetically. “Filippa. How predictable.”

“Yes.” Bas flicked the lever, and the portrait swung outward, revealing the vault behind. “Idiocy is oft mistaken for sentimentality. This is the first place I looked.” He gestured to the lock. “Can you pick it?”

I sighed, glancing down at my broken finger. “Can’t you pick it instead?”

“Just do it,” he said impatiently, “and quickly. The guards could wake up any moment.”

Right. I shot the golden cord spreading between myself and the lock a nasty look before going to work. It appeared quicker this time, as if waiting for me. Though I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, a small groan still escaped as I snapped a second finger. The lock clicked, and Bas swung the vault open.

Inside, Tremblay had stacked a slew of tedious items. Pushing aside his seal, legal documents, letters, and stock, Bas eyed the pile of jewelry beyond them hungrily. Rubies and garnets, mostly, though I spied a particularly attractive diamond necklace. The entire box glittered with the golden couronnes lining its walls.

I swept it all aside impatiently, heedless of Bas’s protests. If Tremblay had been lying, if he didn’t have the ring—

At the back of the vault lay a small leather album. I tore it open—vaguely recognizing sketches of girls who had to be Filippa and her sister—before a gold ring tumbled out from between the pages. It landed on the carpet without a sound, unremarkable in every way except the flickering, nearly indiscernible pulse that tugged at my chest.

Breath catching in my throat, I crouched to pick it up. It was warm in my palm. Real. Tears pricked at my eyes, threatening to spill over. Now she’d never find me. I was . . . safe. Or as safe as I’d ever be.On my finger, the ring would dispel enchantments. In my mouth, it would render me invisible. I didn’t know why—a quirk of the magic, perhaps, or of Angelica herself—but I also didn’t care. I’d break my teeth on the metal if it kept me hidden.

“Did you find it?” Bas stuffed the last of the jewelry and couronnes into his bag and looked at the ring expectantly. “Not much to look at, is it?”

Three sharp raps echoed from downstairs. A warning. Bas’s eyes narrowed, and he crept to the window to peer out at the lawn. I slipped the ring onto my finger while his back was turned. It seemed to emit a soft sigh at the contact.

“Shit!” Bas turned, eyes wild, and all thoughts of the ring fled my mind. “We have company.”

I ran to the window. The constabulary swarmed across the lawn toward the manor, but that wasn’t what made genuine fear stab at my stomach. No, it was the blue coats that accompanied them.

Chasseurs.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Why were they here?

Tremblay, his wife, and his daughter huddled next to the guards I’d left unconscious. I cursed myself for not hiding them somewhere. A clumsy mistake, but I’d been disoriented from the magic. Out of practice.