He carefully returned his spoon to his plate before answering. “I do.”

“Do you find her extraordinarily intelligent?”

“Y—” His reply caught in his throat, however, and his gaze cut to mine, abruptly panicked. Rueful. My anger spiked in response. He couldn’t lie—not here, not caught in Isla’s web of magic—even to spare my feelings. The knowledge hurt, but it didn’t cut deep enough to scar. I might not have been extraordinarily intelligent, but I had intelligence enough to know Isla wanted to hurt me. To shock and awe me. I just didn’t understand why.

“As I thought. Tell me, princeling, do you find her extraordinarily beautiful, then?”

He frowned, eyes still darting between us. Her gaze, however, still didn’t stray from mine. It bored into me with disturbing intensity. With disturbing clarity. Beau tugged at the collar of his shirt before muttering, “Of course I find her pretty. She’s my”—his throat worked again, failing to form the words—“she’s like my sister.”

“How quaint. I asked if you find her beauty extraordinary, however. Is Louise among the fairest you’ve encountered?” When he didn’t answer right away, she inclined her head. “Just so. Do you consider her extraordinarily brave instead?” Again, he didn’t answer. “No? Extraordinarily true, perhaps? Extraordinarily just?” Still Beau said nothing, swallowing hard around words that couldn’t come. Sweat beaded along his forehead at the effort. His foot pressed against mine with enough force to crack my bones.

A peculiar hum started in my ears at the pressure, and my vision tunneled on Isla’s superior expression. How dare she treat us this way? We were guests in her realm. She’d invited us here—and for what? To torment us? To poke and prod until we snapped? An almost childlike indignation flooded my system at the injustice.

Isla was supposed to be an ally.

“I don’t—why do you ask such questions?” Beau ground out.

She ignored his struggle, continuing ruthlessly. “Is Louise a leader, Beauregard? A visionary?”

“She—not as such—”

“Has she offered you riches in exchange for your loyalty? Has she offered you magic?”

He nearly choked on his answer.

“Is she extraordinary in any way?”

“She—” He looked to me, helpless, color rising in his cheeks. Across the table, Célie shot us covert looks, still pretending to listen to Elvire. Coco didn’t pretend at all. She glared at Isla with eyes that blazed with hatred while the hum in my ears grew louder.

“—is just as I feared,” Isla finished for him. “She is ordinary. Painfully, intolerably ordinary, yet she inspires the loyalty and devotion of my sister, my brother, you.” Scoffing, she shook her head and signaled for another course. “A wasted blessing, to be sure.”

“I am not blessed.”