He lifted his hands just as quickly. “It was entirely platonic.” When her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, he retreated a step in my direction. I ignored him. Nicholina had wormed away from me. I pulled her back with a scowl. “I was cold,” Beau continued defensively, “so Seraphine offered her spot.”

Seraphine rested her head on Thierry’s shoulder. Refused to release his arm. He squeezed her hand with equal fondness, like a brother might a sister. “Some nights I can’t sleep,” she said.

“Yes, exactly.” Beau nodded to Coco. “She’s unusually kind, this one, even read to me until I—”

“She did?” Coco clapped her hands together with a terrifying smile. “Do tell me more. Tell me all about your cold night between Zenna and Seraphine.”

“Well, it wasn’t cold after that,” Beau said, either woefully ignorant or determined to prove his innocence. “I woke up sweltering. It was terrible. Almost died of heatstroke.”

“My temperature does run hotter than a human’s,” Zenna said.

“You see?” Beau nodded again—as if this settled the matter for good—while I tightened Nicholina’s binds. “Tell her, Zenna. Tell her it was platonic.”

Zenna arched that brow again. “Does it matter?”

Coco mirrored her expression. “Yes, Beauregard. Does it?”

He stared between them in horror.

“Don’t make me tie your ankles too, Nicholina.” I planted her in front of me when she tried to wriggle away again. “I’ll do it. I’ll carry you all the way to L’Eau Mélancolique if necessary.”

She leaned back, rubbing her cheek against my chest like a cat. “I think I’d like that, huntsman. Oh, yes. I think I’d like it very much.”

Mirroring my own frown, Zenna inhaled deeply. If she detected a new scent from Lou, she said nothing, instead shaking her head and returning her attention to Thierry. “Where is your brother, Thierry? Where is Toulouse?”

Though Thierry stiffened, he exhaled a resigned breath. Toulouse remains at the Chateau. I . . . escaped.

“Chateau le Blanc?” Zenna’s eyes flashed gold. Her pupils narrowed to slits. “Why? What happened?”

Thierry shook his head reluctantly. Morgane captured us in the tunnels. Or rather, she did. He jerked his chin toward Nicholina, who giggled and leaned forward, smacking her lips as if blowing him a kiss. Zenna growled. Thierry, however, continued undeterred. When the lights went out, she attacked. She’d cut my arm before I knew what had happened. She drank my blood. When she commanded Toulouse and me to lock ourselves away from La Mascarade des Crânes—to wait for her return—we had no choice. We had to obey. He looked to me apologetically. We heard your screams, but we couldn’t intervene. I am sorry.

I returned his gaze with as much solemnity as I could manage while Nicholina attempted to twirl in my arms. Like we were dancing. “I don’t blame you for what happened.”