Page 48 of A Treachery of Swans

“The Step-Queen was furious. The necklace was an heirloom, worth as much as an estate. She called me frivolous and careless. She went so far as to ask if I had stolen it. So you can imagine how she reacted when she ordered my rooms searched and found the necklace under my pillow.”

Something inside me wilts. Sothat’swhat happened. I had thought myself careful, clever even. Subtly plucking at a knot that I myself had tied, unraveling it without anyone noticing. But it seems I was wrong.

“She was most angry at my mother. For raising a thief and a liar as a daughter. Told my mother she never wanted to see my face atcourt again, that she would ensure the Dauphin would never marry me. So you see. Reputation ruined.”

And I’m the one who ruined it,I should say, but I can’t bring myself to admit the truth. And why should I? That would only make her resent me, and she’s much too useful. I need her on my side if I’m going to complete this mission.

Instead, I press my hand to my throbbing arm. An owl hoots in the distance. The night bears down, coldly watchful, and I find I can’t look Marie in the face. “You’re worried about your reputation, yet you’re helpingme,” I point out. “Despite the fact that I’ve stolen your identity. Why?”

She chews on her bottom lip, troubled. “You managed to convince Aimé to ask for your hand in marriage, which I do not know if I could have done. You’ve avoided suspicion thus far. I imagine you will continue to do so—if you were to do something truly ridiculous, then you wouldn’t have gone about it this way, because anyone will realize something is wrong if Marie d’Odette d’Auvigny begins to act bizarrely.”

I stare at her in surprise. She has read me like a book, and the realization leaves me simultaneously awestruck and deeply uneasy.

She continues, “Besides, I do not think you intend to continue this charade forever. If I were to guess, you plan to eventually reveal your true identity. You’ll want to gloat, show the court how you fooled them. Once they know you were never truly me, I will be absolved of any blame.”

I snort. “You really think you know everything, don’t you?”

“I know you,” she says quietly.

No, you don’t,I want to scream.Because if you did, you would never be standing here, trusting me like a fool.

Marie’s eyes are soft, and I clench my teeth, suddenly hating her, hating what she does to me. “I care little for the court,” she saysfinally. “It is a vile, unwelcoming place. Aimé is all that is good about it, and you’re protecting him. This arrangement of ours is bizarre, I will admit, but… this winged form is proving useful. And… you’re not as wicked as you pretend to be, Odile. I think, when the time comes for you to make a decision on this quest of yours, you will make the right one.”

Ah. That’s what this is about. She thinks she canchangeme.

“You’re wrong,” I say sharply, pushing up off the well, ignoring the throb of my wounded arm. “I know what you’re thinking: that deep down I have a good heart. That I will turn back to the light. You have no idea what I’m capable of. You have no idea what’s atstakehere.”

“I do,” she says quietly. “You told me yesterday.Magic.And if you would simply tell me the truth, the whole truth, about what you’re trying to do, I could be your ally. I miss the flowers dearly, Odile. I want to see real white snow, not the soot-black curse that smothers us every winter. And I wish, more than anything, for a world where you don’t have to be afraid every time you spill blood.”

I hate her. Ihateher. Because for a moment I am tempted. For a moment I want to tell her everything. She’s under my skin, tugging at my most soft-bellied desires, making me hesitate, making meweak.But I’m not thirteen anymore. I won’t fall for that again.

“You enjoy this, don’t you?” I seethe, gripping my injured arm. “Toying with my emotions. Dissecting me, piece by piece.”

“I told you, sorciere,” says Marie—infuriating, ethereal, unbreakable Marie, Marie who betrayed me, and whom I betrayed in turn. “I’m good at puzzles.”

SCENE XVIIIThe Château

Early Morning

I storm back to the palace, fuming, just as dawn breaks over the lake, a golden flare like leaping embers. My fingers are shaking with such force that I nearly drop the owl-face pendant. I keep a careful eye out for guards, and when I see one near my balcony, I double back and end up forcing open a window on the lower floor, slinking into a dark hallway I know to be near the dining room. The injury on my arm sends routine throbs through my body, and my eyes are sticky with exhaustion. Still, even as I sneak my way back to the Dauphine’s apartments, my blood continues to boil.

Marie d’Odette. The arrogance of her, theaudacity.To presume she could possibly trick me into telling her of my plans. To think all it would take from her is a soft smile and a gentle touch, and my defenses would crumble.

If only she knew I was the villain in her story.

After stealing Marie’s necklace, I escaped the Château and waltzed back to the Théâtre to present it proudly to my father.

“Very good,” Regnault said, running the necklace through his hands. I waited eagerly for more praise, but he only tutted and handed the necklace back to me. “But it’s not goddess-gold.”

My heart sank. “You didn’t say it needed to be.”

“No, I didn’t,” he agreed. “You may keep it then as your reward.” He dismissed me without another word.

When my brother came to see me that night, I was sitting in our usual secret spot under the cupola, fighting back tears and aching from it all: Marie’s betrayal, Regnault’s disappointment, my own foolishness. I told Damien everything, expecting him to take my side. But when he heard of what I’d done, his brows furrowed in anger. “You must return it,” he said sharply. “Aimé told me the Duchesse d’Auvigny’s daughter has gotten into a considerable amount of trouble for losing that thing.”

“Aimé?” I repeated. “So you’re still meeting in secret with the swoony, swoony Dauphin?” I wiggled my eyebrows at him, but it failed to elicit the usual smile.

“Dilou, this is serious. The Step-Queen has been talking to everyone about how the Auvignian heiress was so frivolous, she lost her favorite diamonds. It’s quite the scandal. If you don’t return the necklace, it’s going to ruin Marie’s prospects for marrying Aimé.” He said the last with barely hidden distaste, and I cackled.

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