As the battle spread down the streets, I searched for her. For Claud. Any sign of horn or moonbeam hair. He could’ve disposed of her already, but for some strange reason, I didn’t think so. The air in the city remained foul with the stench of magic and rot. Where Balisardas had pierced the trees, dark sap wept like blood. Fungi crept up the front of homes. Of the castle itself. The entire atmosphere felt charged—angry—and continued to build.

More than once, I swore I heard Morgane’s laughter. My unease deepened to dread.

For his part, Reid had procured three more Balisardas—from where, I didn’t know—for Gaby, Violette, and Victoire, who cropped up every few minutes, hissing and spitting and bloody in their pursuit of those who pursued them. He and Beau had exploded, near apoplectic with rage, on the third time.

“They are trying to kill you!” Beau had torn open the door of Soleil et Lune and thrust them inside. “I swear to God, I will tie you to those seats—”

“They’re trying to kill you too,” Victoire had snarled as Reid slammed the door behind. She’d pounded on the door. “Let us out! Let us fight!”

Another bout of laughter drifted on the wind, and I whirled, searching. The hair rose on my neck. I hadn’t imagined it that time. She’d sounded close enough to touch. In proof of my point, Reid frowned at the theater door. “What was that?”

“Lock them in.”

“What?” His gaze snapped to mine. Sensing my intent, he stepped forward, but Victoire flung the door open once more. He hesitated. “Lou, what are you—where are you going?”

I didn’t answer, already racing down the street, ignoring his shouts. It didn’t matter how many times Beau interceded, how many people Reid led to safety. No one was safe here, not truly—not with Morgane still pulling the strings. Every move she’d ever made had been calculated. Tonight was no different. She’d known Claud and Zenna would join us—she’d known about the loup garou too—and she would’ve taken offensive action. The witches would keep coming. They wouldn’t stop until they’d finished this, destroying the Crown, the Church, their persecutors at last. But witches alone couldn’t down a dragon. They couldn’t kill a god.

No, these witches were the defense, not the offense.

And this was undoubtedly a trap.

“Where are you?” I slid down a side street, following a flash of moonbeam hair ahead. Reid’s voice faded behind. “I thought you didn’t want to play anymore? Come out. Come out and face me, maman. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Just the two of us?”