“I—” Coco stared at the ground with ferocious intent. “Yes.”

A fierce sort of protectiveness pricked my chest at her obvious discomfort. Perhaps I should’ve been angry with her for never telling me about her mother. How many times had we talked about Angelica together? How many times had she chosen not to tell me? A lie of omission was still a lie. Hadn’t I learned that the hard way?

Nicholina had called it a betrayal. Perhaps I should’ve been upset, but I wasn’t. We all had our secrets. I’d certainly kept my fair share. Though I didn’t know why she hadn’t confided in me, I did know Coco had been six years old the last time she’d seen her mother. I knew she didn’t need an audience for this reunion. What she needed was time to process, time to decide what she wanted her relationship with Angelica to look like. To decide if she even wanted that relationship at all.

Resolute, I settled on a pattern to wake Reid, flicking his nose to wield it, eager to distract the others from this painfully awkward situation. One night of my own sleep in exchange for his consciousness now. Simple, yet effective. Nothing too harmful. With Reid awake, we could move on. We could gather our allies to march on Chateau le Blanc or return to Cesarine or—well, I didn’t know exactly, but we could do something other than gawk.

I flicked Reid’s nose once more, waiting for the pattern I’d enacted to dissipate. It didn’t budge. I tried again, clenching my fist this time. It actually recoiled, twisting into a different pattern altogether. And the other patterns in my web—they did too. They grew hopelessly knotted in a way I couldn’t trace or understand, as if the magic itself had grown confused.

I frowned down at him.

What the hell had he done?

Distracted by my nonsensical patterns, I didn’t see or hear Angelica move behind me. Her hand landed on my shoulder. “He will not wake,” she said gently. “Not until he is ready.”

I shot her an irritated look, shrugging away from her touch. “What does that mean?”

“His mind needs time to heal.” She dropped her hand without insult, lacing her fingers together in a maddeningly calm pose. “He is lucky to be alive, Louise. This spell could have done irreparable damage to more than his mind.”

“What spell?” When she didn’t answer, my frown deepened to an outright glower. I pushed to my feet, my cheeks hotter than usual. Claud, Constantin, Angelica—what was the point of omniscience, of omnipotence, if one didn’t use it? I shook my head. “If his mind has been harmed, why can’t you heal him? You healed everyone else!”

She only smiled again, a horrible, pitying smile. “Only he can heal himself.”

“That’s horsesh—”