Page 29 of A Treachery of Swans

“In case you have already forgotten, you had me turned into aswan!” She pulls her hand from my grip and leaps back, stumbling to her feet as if to run. But I’m faster—I bring Buttons up, pointing the pistol at her and cocking it.

She freezes.

“If you don’t return it to me, I’ll shoot,” I warn.

“You wouldn’t do that,” she says reasonably. “If you were going to kill me, you would have done it by the Théâtre.”

“You’re right. I won’tkillyou,” I amend. “But no one said anything about maiming.”

Her eyes roam over me with careful intensity. I grin wider. It’s not a lie—if I have to hurt her to get what I want, I won’t hesitate. She must see it in my eyes, because she sighs and tosses the pendant back to me. I catch it, tucking it away swiftly. Fog churns around us restively, the bulrushes clattering and hissing. I must have been unconscious longer than I thought, because the air has taken on the taut, unsettled quality of dawn about to break.

“You know,” Marie says, cutting through the silence, “I always knew there was something off about you. Different, even when we were girls. It was why I wanted to be friends with you, despite everything. I thought you were like me.”

“You and I arenothingalike,” I sneer.

She blinks, looking genuinely hurt. “I trusted you.”

“Your first mistake.”

I expect her to grow more furious, but she only looks sorrowful, her hands flexing at her sides. She looks over her shoulder toward the Château, and I wonder if she’s considering running back to the palace anyway.

“If you try to flee, I’ll turn you back into a swan,” I say.

“Are you certain you know how to do that?” She says it matter-of-factly, without spite, yet the pricking of shame inside me intensifies, reminding me that I couldn’t have done any of this if Marie hadn’t noticed the spell-thread.

I run a cold hand over my face, pushing back my bangs. “Listen, p—Marie. Whatever you may think of me, Ididkeep my side of the bargain. So at least hear me out.”

She grips her elbows with opposite hands, considering me withan innocent sort of steadiness. Hers are the eyes of a doe encountered in the woods, grappling between intrepid curiosity and the instinct to flee.

I press my tongue against my teeth and reluctantly lower Buttons, shrinking the pistol back into its original form and tucking it into my pocket. Only once it is gone do Marie’s shoulders relax, her body falling out of its defensive tightness.

I beam. “Excellent. Now that we’ve gotten past all”—I wave my hand vaguely—“that, I need to know what you saw last night.”

Her eyes darken suspiciously. “And what… what will you do with that information?”

“It’s like I told you this morning. I’m trying to protect the Dauphin.”

“Because he’s useful for whatever this plan of yours is.”

“Yes. And because as far as anyone in Verroux is concerned, you, Marie d’Odette, are currently betrothed to him.”

She starts. “What?”

“See?” I grin. “Isn’t that what you wanted? I promise I’m not going to ruin your life. Or your reputation. So you can relax, princess. Enjoy your time by the lake. Meanwhile, I’ll deal with the horrid noblesse and this whole regicide business. And ideally free my brother from prison. So please. Tell me what you saw.”

“I don’t suppose I have a choice, do I?” Marie says, inclining her head to where I hid the pendant. “You control my fate.”

“I promise—this is all mutually beneficial.”

She smiles sadly. “Oh, Odile. I don’t think you quite understand what it is you are getting yourself into.”

The quiet words, smothered in dread, fall heavily over me. It takes all my willpower to keep my expression even and unaffected. How is it that despite my obvious advantage, I somehow always feel like she has the upper hand?

“Then did you see who did it?” I demand. “Enough of the suspense.”

She is quiet for a moment. Then, heavily, she says, “What happened to King Honoré, it is… beyond horrifying. I hesitate even to remember it at all.”

“Who was it?”

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