“No.” Jean Luc shook his head vehemently. “I delegated my duties before I left. I ensured the king and your parents would remain protected—”

“Do my parents know? Did you tell them that you planned to follow me?”

He looked deeply uncomfortable now. “Yes.” At her intense, cold stare, he hastened to add, “We had to know you were safe, Célie. They—I—couldn’t bear the thought of anything—”

She didn’t allow him to finish. Instead, she bludgeoned him in the chest with her own pack, turning on her heel to follow Coco and Lou. He staggered beneath its weight. “Célie.” When she didn’t turn, his voice grew louder, imploring. “Célie, please, wait—”

She whirled suddenly, fists clenched. “I do not need a keeper, Jean. This may come as a surprise, but I can take care of myself. I may be a woman—I may be gentle and meek and refined, like a pretty doll—but I have survived more in my eighteen years than you and my parents combined. Do not mistake me for porcelain. Do not mistake me for weak.”

She left without another word.

Struggling to hold her bag, Jean Luc tried to follow, but the crown prince clapped his shoulder, further upsetting his balance. He pitched forward with a curse. “Bad luck, man.” Beau didn’t lift a finger to set him right. “I think there might be actual bars of gold in there.” He shrugged. “The melusines liked her best.”

“She’s wearing trousers,” Jean Luc said incredulously, panting now. “Célie.”

Tension radiated across my face, shoulders, neck. I cared for none of this—the witches, their lies, their clothes. Tasteless wardrobes aside, however, the women had disappeared around the bend. We couldn’t afford to lose them. I couldn’t afford to lose them. Not with my memory at stake. Despite their deceit, they would help me restore my memories, or I would cut the very lies from their tongues. I just needed patience. Scowling, I hitched Lou’s bag higher. “Where are we going?”

Beau started after them without waiting for either of us. “I believe to pillage a castle.”

Jean Luc acquired two additional horses at the next village to speed our travel. When he extended a hand to Célie to help her mount his own, she knocked it aside and ascended herself. She now sat formal and straight in his saddle while he perched behind her.

That left four of us.

I glared at the witches, prepared to tie them behind as Jean Luc had tied me. Beau had a different idea. Without giving me a chance to speak—to protest—he ushered Coco astride the second horse, hoisting himself up after her.

That left two of us for the last horse.

And it was unacceptable.