Beau blanched. “Cursed how?”

“Just don’t look it in the eye.” Replacing the chains, she seemed to choose another path at random and strode forward. “Right. We should split up. Give a shout if you find something that resembles a golden ring, but don’t touch anything else.” She arched a brow over her shoulder at us. “Here there are many deadly and beautiful things.”

I slipped behind her as the others scattered to search. At the sound of my footsteps, she turned with a small smile. Here, in this dark room with its cursed gold and magic fire, she looked more a witch than I’d seen her. Strange and mysterious. Almost surreal. “Just couldn’t stay away, could you?”

I didn’t know why I’d followed her. I didn’t respond.

When she slipped behind a wardrobe—its black cabinets painted with tiny flowers—I drew a knife from my bandolier. Her ghostly chuckle echoed through the thickly scented air. It seemed to shimmer where she’d disappeared, firelight illuminating the dust motes gold. A fingertip brushed my nape. Whirling, I found her standing directly behind me. Her eyes gleamed unnaturally bright. Blue. No, green. “I won’t let you kill me, you know,” she said. “You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself later.”

My fingers ached on the hilt of my knife. My throat tightened. I couldn’t breathe. “I just want my memories back, witch.”

Those haunting eyes fell to my blade, and she stepped forward. Once. Twice. Three times. She walked until her chest met its tip, and then she leaned farther still, drawing a bead of blood. Only then did her eyes return to mine. Only then did she whisper against my lips, “I want that too.”

I stared at my knife. At her blood. A quick thrust would do it. One simple movement, and La Dame des Sorcières would be dead. Incapacitated, at the very least. She’d be helpless to stop me from pitching her body in the fire—the magic fire. It’d be almost poetic to watch her burn upon it. She’d be ash before the others could save her.

A quick thrust. One simple movement.

She would drive me mad unless I did it.

We stayed that way for another second, another hundred seconds—tense, poised—but a shout sounded from across the treasury, breaking our standoff. “It’s here!” Célie’s laughter swelled between us. “I found it!” With a smirk, Lou stepped backward. Away from me. In her absence, I could breathe again. I could hate.

The woman would drive me mad until I did it.

“You’re lucky,” I said darkly, sheathing my knife.

“Funny. I don’t feel lucky at all.”