At the top of the staircase, the others halted before a simple, nondescript door. Lou pushed past me, still wheezing. She clutched her chest with one hand and the door handle with another. “My god. I think my knees might’ve actually cracked.”

“My māmā rū’au can predict the weather with hers,” Beau offered.

“She sounds like a fascinating woman, and I mean that genuinely.” Straightening as much as possible, Lou twisted the golden handle experimentally. It didn’t move. At my derisive snort, she muttered, “No harm in checking.”

A beat of silence passed as she stared at the door, and we stared at her.

Impatience sharpened my tone. “Well?”

Flattening her palm on the handle, she cast me a cutting glance. “I was right. A nasty enchantment has been cast on this door, and it’ll take time to break—if I can break it at all.” She closed her eyes. “I can . . . feel it there. Like a sixth sense. The magic—it pulls at my chest even now.” She shook her head, opening her eyes once more. “But I don’t know if I can trust it.”

Coco’s voice turned grim. “I don’t think we have a choice.”

“It wants to protect this place, even from me.”

“You control the magic, Lou. It doesn’t control you.”

“But what if—”

“Shift your perspective.” The response startled even me, and it’d come from my own mouth. Beneath their startled gazes, I immediately regretted I’d spoken. Heat crept into my cheeks. Why had I spoken? I needed to get into this room, of course, but—no. That was the only explanation. I needed to get into this room. Looking each one of them directly in the eye, I continued, “This new magic, it wants to protect the Chateau. Why?”

Lou frowned. “Because it’s my home. My sisters’ home. It’s been ours for all of living memory.”

“That isn’t quite true,” Coco whispered.

Lou blinked at her. “What?”

“My aunt remembers differently.” Coco shifted in obvious discomfort. “She speaks of a time when Dames Rouges walked these halls instead of Dames Blanches.” At Lou’s bewildered expression, she hastened to add, “It doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything.”

“But—”

“She’s right,” I interrupted, my voice hard. “What matters now is whether you—La Dame des Sorcières—still consider this place your home.” When she didn’t speak, only stared at me intently, I shrugged. Shoulders rigid. “If not, it stands to reason your magic won’t protect it anymore. It’ll shift to your new home. Wherever that is.”

She continued to stare at me. “Right.”

I crossed my arms and looked away, distinctly uncomfortable. “So? Is it?”

“No.” After another long, uncomfortable moment, she finally did the same, murmuring, “No, it isn’t.”