“Foolish man. We presented our black pearls, of course, but still he put up quite the fight.” Though Morgane tutted, the sound lacked her signature melodrama. Deep purple shadowed her eyes, like she hadn’t slept in days. Her skin was paler than usual. Burns riddled her face and chest, and her hair appeared singed in places. “Unfortunately for Constantin, we are the two most powerful witches in the world. Now, I will admit, the dragon gave us pause. It stole my broken toys, nearly razed my dollhouse to the ground, but no matter. The dragon has gone, and we shall not be caught unprepared again.” She glanced out at the waters, clearly displeased. “We are here now.”

“A dragon?” Lou whispered. “Who . . . ?”

“Zenna.”

She’d saved the others, after all. She’d flown back to Cesarine.

Coco could’ve been carved from stone. “What have you done, tante?”

La Voisin met her niece’s hard stare, impassive. Her expression revealed nothing. With the dip of her chin, however, three blood witches marched forward. Between them floated two gagged and bound figures. Eyes wide, both thrashed against the magic holding them to no avail.

Beau and Célie.

Lou cursed softly.

“What I must,” La Voisin said simply.

A beat of silence passed as they stared at each other.

“No.” Coco’s eyes burned at the word, her hands curling into fists. She took a small step forward, and the waters—they rippled beneath her foot. La Voisin’s eyes tracked the movement, narrowing infinitesimally. “That isn’t an answer, and neither is Morgane le Blanc. How many times did we ask for her aid? How many of our kin have perished from cold and disease? How many of them have starved while she stood idly by?”

La Voisin arched a brow. “As you have stood idly by?”

Coco didn’t so much as flinch. “I’m not standing idly by now.”

“No. You are actively standing in my way.”

“You betrayed us.”

“I am losing patience,” Morgane said with quiet malevolence. Her fingers twitched.

“Foolish child.” La Voisin spoke as if she hadn’t heard her. “You would have us continue to sicken and starve. Why?” Her black gaze found Lou and me. “For them?” Lip curling, she shook her head in a slow, winding movement, like a cobra preparing to strike. “You are the Princesse Rouge. Once, I would have encouraged your voice. I would have respected your opinion. But now your empathy rings hollow. You do not care for our people. You do not claim them as kin. You may protest my betrayal, Cosette, but you betrayed us long before this. Morgane has promised our coven safety in Chateau le Blanc”—her eyes seemed to harden at the name—“in exchange for Louise. I would do far worse than betray you to procure it. The time has come to choose your side.”