Page 81 of A Treachery of Swans

Marie shifts toward me, eyes thoughtful. “But how do we free her?”

“By destroying the Couronne, I assume.”

I know in my heart it will not be that easy. But I remember the invisible force that had pushed the door open earlier, that had first spoken to me in the strange not-dream in the cells.Daughter of the Blood,it keeps saying. Someone—something—is helping me. I have to hope it will guide me when the time comes.

“Regnault will not give up the Couronne willingly,” I say. “He doesn’t take it off at all, which will make stealing it difficult. I need to wait until he is asleep. Tomorrow night,” I decide, stringing together the first threads of a plan. “That’s when I’ll do it. I will come to free you afterward, so be awake and wait for my signal. We will need to run.”

She tugs on one of her curls worriedly. “Is there nothing I can do to help?”

“No. This is something I must do on my own. Sooner or later I will have to confront him.”

She lowers her hand, and our eyes catch almost inadvertently. I try to give her a reassuring, confident smile. Marie looks down at her hands. “Odile, I—if something goes wrong, shatter a window.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What? Why?”

“There’s… It’s hard to explain. Perhaps it’s better if I don’t, yet. I’m not entirely sure of it myself.”

“Taunting me with a mystery, princess?” I say silkily, leaning toward her, if only to see her blush again. “Very well, then. I’ll take it as a challenge.”

“You’re preposterous,” she says, laughing softly.

Then she darts forward and kisses me on the cheek.

She’s pulling back before I know it, but she might as well have marked herself permanently on my skin. It’s a stardust feeling, prickling and shivering and ephemeral, leaving me light-headed and bursting with warmth.

I must look truly undignified, because Marie giggles. Then she pushes lightly on my shoulder. “Go to sleep, sorciere,” she says. “And stay safe. For me.”

SCENE XXXIThe Château

Morning

The greatest challenge awaits me the next morning. How can I act normal when my world has been turned upside down? Yet when my father joins me for breakfast, I meet his eyes and make idle conversation while searching the corners of his too-wide grin, the sharp tips of his teeth, for a single clue I may have missed. And yet his mask is pristine. Any madness from last night—any trace of the true Bartrand de Roux—is meticulously buried.

For once I am glad I am a good actress. Because I too can put on a mask. I can smile in obliviousness, feign confidence. I can ignore how badly I still wish to please my father—how I still bask in the smallest compliment, how I still look for his approval when I threaten a courtier who tries to question his position.

The day grows warmer, the dark snow melting into hideous gray stains on the pale courtyard cobblestones. Its remnants pool beneath the shutters of windows, track all over the entrance hall onthe boots of noblesse. It is especially abundant on the heels of the square-jawed, handsome nobleman who demands an audience with the Regent and his “pet sorcier.”

I know immediately why he is here. From his features alone, I can guess he is the relative of the young messenger from yesterday. I know this also because as soon as he lays eyes on Regnault, he crosses the room and punches my father in the face.

The retaliating smirk Regnault gives the man oozes enough menace to make me shudder. “That’s not very polite,” he drawls.

“Bring back my son!” the man screams, turning on the Regent. “Tell this monster to bring him back, or you are asking for war with Marsonne!”

This is the first time I have seen the Regent look truly worried. “Calm yourself, monsieur. Your Henri was punished for assisting in desertion.” There is an edge of panic as he turns to Regnault. “But I agree. I think the boy learned his lesson, and the guards as well. It is time to turn him back.”

“I don’t know why you keep this monster around,” interrupts the newcomer. “I’d heard rumors, but I did not believe you would ally yourself with a golden-blood until I saw him standing here. And letting him wear the Couronne! Have you gone mad?”

Regnault’s smile tightens. The small shift in expression is enough to make my gut clench.

The Regent, oblivious to the danger, waves his hand placatingly. “He is assisting me in bringing order back to the Château. It is only a temporary arrangement, I promise. Now…” He clasps his hands together, turning to Regnault, but the Regent doesn’t know he’s about to face a wolf preparing to dive for his throat. “If you wouldn’t mind turning young Henri back—”

“Turn him back?” Regnault interrupts. “You think I am a dog to be ordered around as you please? To walk back on my actions likea coward because of some petty threat? No, no, not atall.” That maddened edge has returned to his voice, the one I saw last night.

“No, lovely Regent. But if you fear that this gentleman here is going to pose a problem, then let me solve it for you.”

Before either I or the Regent can even scream, Regnault has traced a pattern of spell-threads, and the nobleman before us has turned to gold.

A choked sound escapes me. Regnault glances in my direction, a devious light in his eyes, and I know he is looking for admiration in my face—for me to relish the cruel deed as much as he does. I force myself to smirk. In reality, I want to double over and vomit.

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