Page 74 of A Treachery of Swans

“Little owl,” Regnault says, an odd strain entering his voice. He flexes his hand demandingly. “The crown.”

“Odile,” Marie says again. She stretches out her palm, fingers opening like blossom petals.

My awareness fades to three things. Two hands: one spindly, talon-like, and familiar; the other elegant and softly golden. One I have known since I was five years old; the other I think about holding more often than I care to admit. And between them the Couronne. Its faint, rolling purrs sink into my skin, flowing through my flesh like the sluicing of water. I wonder how it would feel to lay it upon my brow. I wonder if I could wrench free whatever unnatural magics were trapped in it by the Spider King and summon Morgane here and now. I wonder if I ever really needed anyone at all.

“Remember yourself,” my father murmurs. The sound slithers from between his teeth, twining around me.

“Don’t do this,” Marie whispers. “Give me the crown. We’ll solve this together—we’ll save Aimé, we’ll explain everything to him, we will find a way to bring magic back.”

Regnault chuckles. “Lies, lies,lies.” He steps closer to me. “You know her words mean nothing. She stood by while you were put in a cage. She used you and then discarded you. If you give her the crown, she will merely put it back on that blond brat’s head—assuming he ever comes out of that bestial form. Nothing will change.”

He’s right,that volatile little voice in my mind whispers.Why would Marie choose the side of the girl who ruined her life? Who cursed her and lied to her? Why, unless she has something to gain?

Yes,I think. I can’t believe a word she says—I can’taffordto believe a word she says. But Regnault—Regnault is safe. He came back for me. He may have questionable methods, but they’re effective. Hehas promised to teach me magic—he has promised me greatness. And he, at least, has always kept his promises.

I remember Aimé’s words from earlier.

A snake holds some affection for its prey, I believe, as it sinks its fangs in slowly and waits for the venom to spread. That doesn’t make it any less vile.

Why should I fight to save someone who never even gave me a chance?

Vile, vindictive, villain.

The words that have become my anthem, my obituary. But did I not want to be the villain of this tale? Had I not been proud of that, once upon a time?

Villains are pitiless. Villains are unfeeling. Villains can’t be hurt.

And I am sotiredof being hurt.

I straighten. My breath rattles out of me in a jagged, wearied sound. I tighten my grip on the Couronne; its thrumming seems to intensify, pricking at my fingertips.

I turn. Slow, but certain.

And I place the Couronne du Roi in my father’s hands.

SCENE XXVIIIThe Château

The Chapel

I expect my father to take the crown from me gingerly, to treat it with the reverence he has always used when speaking of it. Instead, he seizes it from me like I have handed him a firework with the fuse lit, as though he is running out of time, as though if he doesn’t take it fast enough, I might change my mind.

I hear Marie’s sharp intake of breath. “Odile,” she whispers, and in her voice is pure, devastatedsadness.

I can’t look her in the eye.I’m sorry,I want to scream.I told you trusting me was a mistake.

Marie turns her attention from me, looks fiercely to the guards instead. “Stop him,” she orders. Her voice is steady despite the tight lines of her face.

One of the guards starts forward, but the Regent puts up a hand. “No.”

“No?” Marie echoes in disbelief.

The guard freezes, his lips twisted in conflict. He makes me think of Damien—torn between duty and his own inner morals.

“No.” The Regent juts his chin out. “Monsieur Regnault is working under my orders.”

At that, Regnault chuckles quietly. Marie’s eyes widen. I can see the exact moment she realizes the Regent has allied with my father. There is something terrifying about the utter calm that consumes her, the furious evenness of her voice as she says,“Traitor.”

“Believe me, mademoiselle, I am doing this for the good of the crown.” The Regent flicks his finger at the guards. “Seize the would-be Dauphine, please, and take her to her chambers. She is clearly distressed from her betrothed’s betrayal. Oh, and”—his mouth tilts up smugly—“ensure she remains there. The palace is too volatile right now for her delicate sensibilities.”

---