"A slip, of sorts." I searched his face, trying to gauge him and failing. "And you? How did you discover that those with human blood can lie?"

Emotion flashed across his face, too swift for me to identify, but enough for me to know I'd struck a nerve. The light behind him dimmed. "Lessa's mother. She lied to me. I caught her. I killed her."

There was much, much more to that story than anyone knew. "What was the lie?"

My father shook his head once. Even in this rare moment of honesty between us, some things he would not tell, so I started down another path. "What did you do with Anais's... body?" It was still hard to say it, hard to relegate my friend to an inanimate corpse.

He snorted derisively. "Of all the questions you might ask, you choose a sentimental one like that? Why do you even care?"

I hoped all the powers in this world and the next would strike me down if I stopped caring. "Humor me."

Something in my voice wiped the mockery away from his. "Fire. Hot enough to burn away any trace that she ever existed."

I bowed my head, not bothering to hide my grief. It was part of what made me different from him, and I wanted him to see it. I thought he would say something mock me for my sentiments. Tell me that they made me weak. He didn't disappoint.

He leaned back and rested his head against the gold throne.

"Everything had come to pa.s.s as I had antic.i.p.ated. You had foolishly allowed your emotions to guide you and played your hand. Attacked me when you thought I intended to harm Cecile." He sighed. "If you thought clearly and logically, you would have known that I'd never allow harm to come to that girl. She is more precious to me than perhaps even to you, which is why I had the witch they call La Voisin brought to Trollus the moment she was injured. Once I had her a.s.surances that Cecile could be saved, I decided to take advantage of the situation as it had presented itself. You acted predictably. Your sister did not.

"Lessa was supposed to prevent Anais from interfering, but for her own reasons chose not to." He grimaced. "Lessa came into your rooms moments after you left with Cecile. And in that moment, I thought I was done. That all my plans, and plots, and work, and hardships had been for naught. And for a moment, I wished that you..." He broke off. "But instead of killing me, she dispatched your loyal little friend. And then she offered me a bargain."

I didn't care about the bargain: I cared about what he'd been about to say. That I'd... what? What had he wished I'd done?

"The bargain was this: I let her take over Anais's life in exchange for her becoming my spy in the Angouleme household."

"Why would she want such an existence?" I asked. "She'd be living a lie. Living every day with the fear of discovery, and knowing that if she was discovered, that her life would be forfeit." Even as I asked the question, I knew the answer.

My father shrugged. "She clearly thought the risks worth the reward."

Better to live a lie than to live a slave.

I shifted my weight, too many thoughts filling my head. This was not the sort of conversation he and I ever had. He was treating me almost like I was his... I pushed the thought away. We were not equals. It was all tricks. Always tricks, with him. "If she killed Anais first, then you were released. You could have killed Lessa where she stood, but you did not. Why?"

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d half-blood or not, she is my daughter."

"Which makes you no less likely to kill her than anyone else who stands in your way."

His fingers twitched ever so slightly. "Think what you'd like. But to answer your question, I made the bargain with her because I considered it to be to my advantage. Not only would I gain a spy in the home of my greatest adversary, I would gain a most powerful ally."

"Because Anais was the heir to the Duchy of Angouleme," I said. "Lessa could dispatch the Duke and inherit it and all of his powerful alliances."

"Just so."

I nodded slowly. "It was a good plan."

"Indeed."

I shifted my weight to my other leg. I didn't feel well. "Lessa was the cause of what happened with Mother, wasn't she?"

This time it was my father's turn not to hide his emotions. His fingers clenched on the arms of the throne, and I could see a vein rise in his forehead. "Wretched creature wasn't satisfied with becoming a d.u.c.h.esse, she wanted to be a princess."

"She wants to be Queen." My father met my gaze, and for a heartbeat, we were in perfect understanding. "Does Angouleme know Roland's name?" I asked, knowing in my heart already that it was the case, but wanting confirmation from my father's lips. Wanting, though I hated to admit it, some rea.s.surance that he had a plan that would fix things.

"I have strong reason to believe that is the case."

I expected his anger to rise at the admission, but the throbbing vein in his forehead disappeared, and he averted his gaze, looking over my shoulder at the door. Was it possible that he was upset about what was happening to my brother? Was it possible that he cared?

My heart thudded loud in my ears. Dare I say it? Was it the correct move? "You could undo all these troubles," I said, my desire to keep the hope from my voice making it sound toneless. "You could reinstate me as heir."

A smile grew on his lips, growing wider and wider. But it wasn't an expression of happiness or pleasure, and I knew nothing had changed. I became painfully aware that I was dressed only in shirtsleeves, dusty and sweaty, that my coat and hat were still hanging on the back of Pierre's chair. And my gloves still sat on the wall next to the tree, leaving my weakened state glaringly obvious.

His eyes met mine. "They say nothing worth having comes easily, Tristan. If you want the crown, you're going to have to take it."

The golden circlet still lay at my feet.

I wanted to s.n.a.t.c.h it up.

I wanted to run as far away from it as possible.

Swallowing the burn in my throat, I reached down, forcing my numb fingers to pick up the symbol of my father's power. The weight of it made my wrist scream, but I had a lot of practice in keeping pain from showing. In one, two, three steps, I was up on the dais, and I slammed the crown against his chest. "I'll take it when I'm good and ready, and that's a promise." The weight of my word sank into me, horrible, wonderful, and binding.

Letting go of the crown, I spun on my heel and started down the steps toward the door, and not once did I look back.

The antechamber was full of my father's guardsmen and women, and they all tensed when I swung the doors open, a few peering past me to see if my father had survived our encounter. None of them looked as though they had put any great effort into trying to get past my wards, which led me to believe that my father had forewarned them not to interfere. Which led me to believe that he had predicted my arrival after his announcement. I wondered if his seeming ability to see the future would ever stop amazing me.

The guards parted to let me pa.s.s, and I stalked through their midst, eager to be away, when a scent that didn't belong caught my attention.

Horses.

I stopped in my tracks and took one step backwards. If not for the smell, I might not have noticed the man leaning against the wall, his dark cloak blending into the shadows. A guard stepped between us.

"Move," I said.

The guard licked his lips nervously, staring at my feet. "The King has ordered that he not speak to anyone while in Trollus, my lord."

I didn't respond, only stood silently, waiting. The guard moved out of my way.

The human didn't straighten from his slouch against the wall at my approach, only watched me with the interest of someone who has nothing better to look at. He was somewhat shorter than me, but something about him made him seem larger than he was. A certain mien that made me suspect that he was someone of importance in the human world.

His clothes confirmed my suspicion, his fur-lined cloak of the finest wool and boots polished to a high shine. A sword hung from his waist, and I did not fail to notice the corner of the emblem st.i.tched onto his breast. An officer in the Regent's army, and unless I missed my mark, part of the Regent's court as well. But I didn't really care about any of that. He was human and he was here, which meant that he was working for my father.

"Who are you?" I asked.

He straightened out of his slouch. "I might ask you the same question."

"You'd be the first."

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I suppose it's difficult to maintain anonymity when one is trapped in a cage."

My smile was all teeth. "For some more than others."

"In a cage and in the world, Your Highness." He bowed, but it was sardonic. For a second, I thought he was mocking my fall from grace, but I quickly realized it was more than that. He was mocking our claim to any sort of authority. It wasn't just me being censured, it was my father. Who was he to be so bold?

"You seem to manage," I said, taking a jab at his sense of self-importance to see if he would bite and reveal his ident.i.ty.

He only inclined his head. "We all have our talents. Now if you'd please excuse me, I have important matters requiring my attention, and I do not care to linger in this hole longer than I must." He started to brush by me, but I caught him before he could go more than a pace. Not with my hand, as I might otherwise, but with magic.

I all but felt his skin crawl, his shudder visible to the eye. "How is she?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

He turned his head, looking me up and down before snorting softly. "Better than you, it would seem," he said. "And yet worse. The woman I have watching her says she has turned to the dark arts."

Blood magic. My stomach tightened at the idea of Cecile killing anything, and I almost regretted handing my father back the crown when I might have murdered him where he sat.

"I know what it is she seeks and how," he said. "And as much as I know it is against her will, if I were master of my own, I would see her dead before I would see her succeed."

Like a giant fist, my power contracted, forcing a wheeze of pain from the man. Only the small thread of control I had left kept me from squeezing the life out of him. From his own lips he'd admitted he could not harm her. My father owned his will, and this man hated him for it. Which meant there was a chance he'd help Cecile if he thought it in his best interests. Or he might be so bound by oath that he'd turn around and deliver the information back to my father. Did I risk giving him knowledge that might help her? It might be her only chance. Drawing in a ragged breath, I released him.

He staggered back and away from me, colliding with the guards. "You and yours are a scourge on this earth," he hissed. "If Cecile falls like so many before her, it will not be because of anything I have done. Her death will be on your hands."

Shoving the guards aside, I leaned close so that we were eye to eye. "I think that if you let her die because of what you have not done, you will find that guilt is not such an easy thing to escape." Hands were s.n.a.t.c.hing at me, pulling me back and away. And I could feel my father coming in our direction; this man of enough importance to him that he'd interfere himself. I had only a second. Jerking out of their grip, I whispered, "There is a loophole in the promise she made. Tell her to think on it."

The human's eyes widened, but there was no time to say more. I could only pray that I'd delivered Cecile an ally, not an enemy.

Twenty-Seven.

Cecile

I spent the entire night sitting in front of the fire, hoping Catherine would contact me through the flames and tell me that she'd help; but all I'd got for my efforts were bloodshot eyes, smoky hair, and the realization that the other witch might be too afraid to provide me with a.s.sistance. If I hadn't heard from her by tonight, my plan was to try the map spell again to see if the mark at the castle moved. It was a sure way to prove that it was a.n.u.shka, but I'd been avoiding using it again mostly because I so badly wanted to. The need to feel that flood of power lurked inside me, and I was afraid of how much worse the feeling would be if I gave in to the temptation.

Although I might not have a choice.

We were rehearsing in the foyer de la danse, because the stage in the room was much closer in size to the one we'd perform on at the castle than the ma.s.sive one in the main theatre. A dozen young girls from the dance school played the roles belonging to the ladies of the court, their tarlatan skirts jutting out from their hips to reveal legs muscled from hours of training. The steps were no challenge to them, but their eyes gleamed with the excitement of holding the attention, however briefly, of the most influential members of the company.

I watched dubiously while crewmembers rigged a swing that would suspend me above the rest of the cast through the second half of the masque.

"And you will swing gently back and forth," Monsieur Johnson explained to me. "The Queen of Virtue, smiling down upon her beautiful subjects."

"I can't smile while I sing," I said, giving the swing a hard jerk with one hand to ensure it was secure.

"Smile with your eyes," he exclaimed. "With your posture. With your very soul!"

From behind him, my mother rolled her eyes, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. I was back in her good graces after my venture out with Julian, who had dutifully returned me home before midnight, and, to the best of my knowledge, not breathed a word about where we had gone. "My soul will be beaming, monsieur," I said. "I will not disappoint."

He clapped his hands together, then ran off to herd the rest of the cast into the wings.

"What a silly little man," my mother murmured, yanking on the ropes. Seeming unsatisfied, she took hold of the swing with both hands and lifted her feet so that she was suspended off the ground. "If it holds my weight, it will hold yours," she said. "Although maybe we should attach a wire to you just in case."

"It will be fine," I said, sitting down on the plank.

"Please hold on tightly." She pulled my hair out from where it was tucked behind my ears. "If you were to fall and injure yourself, it would be a disaster."

"I won't fall," I a.s.sured her.

She did not look convinced.

"How do you feel about tomorrow?" I asked. Tomorrow was closing night for this particular production run, and Genevieve's final public performance.

"It matters less than you might think," she said, bending down to kiss me on the forehead. "I'll be living through you every time you step onstage."

Pulleys creaked, and I lifted up into the air until I was at the same level as the ma.s.sive crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the room. Kicking my feet, I began to swing back and forth.

"Too much vigor," Monsieur Johnson shouted. "You look like a child at play, not a queen."

I slowed my momentum.

"Uncross your ankles!"

I did so.

"I didn't say spread your legs," he shouted. "You're Virtue, not some Pigalle harlot!"

My mother snarled something I couldn't hear and the man blanched. "Please keep your knees together, Mademoiselle de Troyes," he said, tone contrite. "Otherwise the audience will see up your skirts."

He nodded to the musicians, and they began to play. Taking a few swift breaths, I inhaled deeply, and then I sang.

For the first verse, I was alone on the stage, but then the dancers made their way out from the wings. They did not make it far before Monsieur Johnson called a halt. "Softer, mademoiselle," he said to me. "This is not the theatre."

We started and stopped another dozen times, while the man shouted instructions and criticism, keen to have perfection from the professionals before he brought in the untutored ladies of the court. The rough plank of the swing was hard, and my bottom grew numb even as my back began to ache.

Would the mark on the castle move if the spell were performed again, I wondered. And what would I do if it did?

"Again!"

The map spell had given me clues to how a.n.u.shka was achieving immortality, but I was at a loss of what to make of them. I was certain the mark at the castle had been the living, breathing witch, but that didn't bring me much closer to discovering her ident.i.ty. I was sure Marie knew who she was, but I was just as sure she wouldn't volunteer the information, especially to me. If I could get a strand of her hair, it was possible I could take the knowledge from her mind with magic, but getting the hair would be no mean feat, given I hadn't so much as seen her since our first meeting.

"You call yourselves the best? This is a disaster! Again!"