We all crept forward, slower and warier now. “Perhaps they chopped them down,” Beau said. “And recently. Look—no snow.”

I instantly disagreed. “They didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

“There are no stumps,” Coco said, leaning forward. “See? The ground does look disturbed, though.”

“Perhaps Zenna scorched them all, then.” Beau pointed to the charred markings on the bridge, on the gatehouse ahead. Evidence of Zenna’s wrath. Still, the hair on my neck lifted. These trees hadn’t been burned. Of that, I was certain.

“They look like they just . . . uprooted and walked away.”

Reid made a low, disparaging sound at the back of his throat. I ignored him. Instead, I started for the gatehouse once more, focusing on the sound of my feet on the wood.

Whatever damage Zenna had caused with her attack, little evidence remained. The structural integrity of the Chateau remained intact, and even the facade bore little sign of fire. Magic was helpful that way. I supposed Morgane wouldn’t have liked the soot underfoot. We paused inside the crumbling entrance to listen. Though the air in the courtyard could chill bone, the temperature within felt warm and balmy, despite the overgrown ruins of the hall. And the castle—it came alive at night. Voices echoed from all around: beyond the grand stairwell, through the corridors, within the great hall. Two lovers swept past hand in hand, and soon after, a manservant bustled through with a tray of what smelled like custard tarts. A handful of witchlings passed us a moment later to make shapes in the snow outside. Though I recognized none of them, the familiarity of it all made me smile. Nothing had changed.

Reid unsheathed another knife beside me, and my smile faded.

Everything had changed.

At least Morgane hadn’t deployed forces to Cesarine. Not yet, anyway.

“Keep close,” I murmured, starting toward the staircase. Though my body remained like shadow, I kept to the edges of the room. Smoke had obscured the moonlight outside, yes, but inside, lit candles dripped from their candelabra and cast flickering light. I would take no chances. “Morgane and Josephine are here somewhere. Perhaps Nicholina too.”

“And the treasury?” Reid murmured.

“Follow me.”

I led them through a narrow door beneath the staircase, into the winding passage beyond. Though it would take longer to reach the treasury’s tower this way, few others traveled it, and I . . . I couldn’t explain the creeping dread in my chest. The longer I concealed my friends in shadow, the more agitated I became. Like the magic itself was—was rebelling against me. Against them. It made little sense, yet wasn’t the purpose of La Dame des Sorcières to protect her home?

We were trespassers here, all of us, intent on thieving a sacred treasure.

My magic didn’t trust us, I realized in a burst of clarity.