I glanced down at her. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. My own limbs shook with adrenaline.

A Chasseur behind us sneered, “You have to come out eventually.”

She whipped around to glare at him. “We really don’t.”

“You’ll starve.”

“Come now. His Majesty won’t exhibit such patience. He decreed we would burn this evening.” Her grin widened. “It won’t reflect well on him if this execution doesn’t go to plan, will it? I imagine his denizens are already rather restless about the Hellfire. Rather frightened.” She addressed Philippe directly now. “It won’t reflect well on you either.”

On sudden impulse, I added, “Especially after my mother escaped.”

Low murmurs broke out across the room at the allegation, and Philippe’s face hardened. His expression said everything. Short-lived relief swept through me. They’d saved her. Coco and Jean Luc and Célie—somehow, they’d saved my mother. She was safe. Lou practically cackled now, casting me an appreciative look from the corner of her eye. “She will be apprehended,” Philippe said tersely. “Make no mistake.”

“You need a win, Phil. You can’t afford to wait.” Lou waggled her fingers at him. “I think you’ll be coming in sooner rather than later.”

A different Chasseur—this one younger than the others, practically an initiate—wielded his Balisarda like a crucifix. “You think your magic can harm us, witch?”

“I think,” she said slowly, “that it won’t be terribly difficult to disarm you, mon petit chou. I believe you’ve all met my husband.” She hooked her thumb at me. “Youngest Chasseur in the brotherhood. Youngest captain too.”

“He is no captain,” Philippe said darkly.

Lou arched a brow. “Well. He did kick your ass.”

I placed a hand on her shoulder, distinctly uncomfortable. Cold sweat trickled down my spine. When she glanced up at me, I shook my head. Near indiscernible. What are you doing? I tried to ask.

When she lifted said shoulder—so slight no one else could see—I had my answer. She didn’t know. The bluster, the jeers, the threats—all desperate bids for time. For help. For anything.

We’d run out of ideas.

“Come on, Phil,” she coaxed, and at her words, the faint scent of magic enveloped me. The others smelled it too. Some snarled and stiffened, knuckles tightening on their Balisardas, and looked to Philippe for instruction. Others shifted uneasily. A few, however, studied Lou in fascination as her skin began to glow. “Open the door. Play with me.”

Different words resounded in my head. Still her voice, but soft and scared. Reid.

I stared at her.

When they open the door, she said, still watching Philippe, stay close to me. I can’t harm them directly with magic, but I can bring this tower down on their heads. It’s the best chance we have. Then— Do you think Beau escaped too?