“No.” I kept my voice low, shook my head fervently. Tried to ignore my own mounting panic. There had to be another way. My eyes swept over the witches again, assessing. Thirteen in all—six Dames Rouges, judging from the scars on their skin, and seven Dames Blanches. The former would need physical contact to harm, but the latter could attack at any moment. My mind searched wildly for an advantage. Any advantage. Could L’Eau Mélancolique affect our magic? Repress it? If we could somehow lure Morgane into the waters . . . I tested my own patterns. The golden cords rose instantaneously. Shit.

Worse still, one cord continued to shine brighter than the rest, pulsing with insistence. The same cord that had answered at the lighthouse. The same cord I couldn’t pull. I wouldn’t pull.

Save her, the magic whispered. Save them all.

I continued to ignore it.

Coco cried out as her strings tightened, and Lou took advantage of my distraction, finally twisting free. “Look, maman, look.” She waved her hands in a placating gesture. “I’ll play with you now. I’ll even trade toys: me in exchange for Beau and Célie.” Though I still shook my head, reaching for her, she kicked away and continued determinedly. “But you can’t harm them again. I mean it, maman. Any of them. Beau, Célie, Reid, Coco—they’re all safe from this point onward. No one touches them.”

The pattern pulsed. My head continued to shake.

Morgane didn’t seem particularly surprised by Lou’s request, nor did she laugh or dance or goad as she once would have. “You can see how that might present a problem, daughter. With your death, the prince and huntsman will also perish.”

“You assume I’ll die.”

“I know you’ll die, darling.”

Lou smirked then, and the sight of it struck me like a physical blow. Only days ago, I’d feared I would never see that smirk again. My body tensed with barely controlled restraint. “I guess we’ll have to play to find out,” she said.

She started for shore once more.

“No.” I caught her arm. She hadn’t suffered this long—she hadn’t sacrificed everything, walked through literal fire, exorcised a fucking demon—to give up so easily now. Coco had said one life wasn’t worth more than another, but she’d been wrong. Her life meant more. Beau’s and Célie’s lives meant more. And Lou—her life meant most of all. I would ensure she lived it. I would ensure they all lived. “You can’t do this.”

She kicked upward to kiss me in one last desperate plea. “I can’t kill her if I keep hiding, Reid,” she breathed against my cheek. “Remember what your mother said—closing my eyes won’t make it so the monsters can’t see me. I have to play. I have to win.”