“Magic a letter into Chasseur Tower?” Coco rolled her eyes. “They’d lash him to a stake by morning.”

Célie pulled her hands from mine. Gentle at first, then firm. She reluctantly met my eyes. “It matters not. He will not come.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s mad about you—”

“No, Reid,” she insisted. “The conclave has assembled in Cesarine to elect a new Archbishop. It’s why he didn’t follow me in the first place. His presence has been requested by the priests, by the king. He cannot come here, and I cannot ask him—not for this. Not for Lou. I am sorry.”

I stared at her for a beat.

Not for this. Not for Lou. The imperiousness in her voice punctured my hope. My foolish optimism. Had she just . . . dismissed us? As if this weren’t equally important as the Church’s conclave? As if this wouldn’t decide the fate of the kingdom in a more tangible way? Lou might not have been the only player on the board, but she was certainly the most critical. Only a fool wouldn’t recognize that.

Jean Luc wasn’t a fool. Neither was Célie.

When I next spoke, ice coated my voice. My veins. “Lou risked everything for you.”

She blinked in surprise at my tone. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish. “I— Reid, of course I am very grateful for that! I would never presume to—to deny her heroism or involvement in my rescue, but she—” Cheeks coloring, she leaned closer, as if speaking a dirty word. “Reid, she is a witch. If there were even a possibility of Jean abandoning his responsibilities to save her—of forsaking his oath as a Chasseur—of course I would ask, but—”

“But we’re a witch,” Nicholina cackled gleefully, sitting upright in the sand, “so you will not risk the question. Pity. Such a pretty, pretty pity, you are. Such a pretty, pretty porcelain doll.”

I jerked her hands behind her back, holding her wrists captive. Beau joined me, poised to help if she struggled. But she didn’t. She merely gazed serenely up at Coco, who crouched in front of her. “Bonjour, notre princesse rouge. I must say you look terrible.”

“You look better than I’ve ever seen you.”

“Ah, we know.” Grinning with Lou’s lips and Lou’s teeth, she gazed down at herself. “This skin suits us.”

Flames erupted in my chest at her words. This skin. “She isn’t a suit,” I snarled, tightening my hold on her wrists until they threatened to snap. I knew I shouldn’t. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to hurt her, to force her out violently if necessary. When she laughed in response—tipping her head back with relish, leaning fully into my chest—I felt my hands twist. Another second, and her bones would shatter. Just one more second. Just one.

She moaned in pleasure.