“You’re going to rob it?” I tried to keep my voice casual. Cold. Only a Dame Blanche could locate the infamous Chateau. Finally, I’d found one to lead me to it. How many years had my brethren searched? How many witches would I snare there, unsuspecting and defenseless? Would I unearth the great pythoness herself, La Dame des Sorcières? One could only hope.

If Lou couldn’t return my memories, perhaps this was the next best thing.

“We are going to rob it.” She didn’t lean against me again. Unfortunately, her forward position fitted her backside more firmly between my legs. I gritted my teeth against the sensation. “It’ll be locked in the treasury, up in the highest room of the tallest tower. That’s where my coven hides all their relics—cursed books and eternal flowers and magic rings alike.”

“Your father would shit a brick, Célie,” Beau called over his shoulder.

“Shut up, Your Highness,” Jean Luc fired back.

Célie spoke through her teeth. “I can speak for myself, Jean.”

Lou chuckled before continuing. “My mother allowed me inside only once, and the door was guarded by a powerful enchantment. We’ll have to break it somehow—if we even manage to reach it. Eyes surround the castle itself from all sides. Hundreds of witches live there year-round.” She paused. “Even more now.”

Hundreds of witches.

“You said only the witch who casts the enchantment can break it.”

“That’s right.”

I clenched my jaw in irritation. In disappointment. “How will we break the enchantment on the door?”

She merely shrugged, her hair tickling my face. Long and thick and brown. Wild. Against my better judgment, I inhaled its scent. She smelled sweet in a way I almost recognized—like vanilla and cinnamon. A warm coat on a cold winter day. Snow on my tongue. I shook my head, feeling thoroughly stupid. “You have no strategy at all, do you?”

“I bottled several pints of L’Eau Mélancolique.” The wind carried Coco’s voice in an upward spiral. Lou strained forward to hear her, and I shifted away, cursing inwardly. Heat crept into my cheeks. My body didn’t realize, of course. This wasn’t a woman but a witch. “Maybe the waters will restore the door to what it was before the enchantment,” Coco continued. “If not, my blood might. It’s a different magic than yours.”

Jean Luc didn’t hide his scorn. “It’s a door. We break it down.”

I scarcely heard the exchange. With each stride of the horse, the witch’s backside moved against my lap, up and down, rhythmic, until heat suffused my entire body. I glared determinedly at the sky overhead. The situation had grown dire. Soon, she would notice, and soon, I would have to kill her for it.

“Is there a problem, Chass?” she murmured after another moment.

“None,” I snapped.