“Yes,” she managed weakly, turning her head to see Gwen’s silhouette once more. She saw the way she shifted, saw the starlight picking out a stray lock of her hair. Saw her close her eyes.

“We are partners, aren’t we?” Gwen asked, uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Of course we are!” Isobelle rolled onto her side to face her, surprised at how normal her voice sounded. “Of course we are.” She made herself stop before she could say it a third time. Olivia always said that repeating something a third time undermined one’s credibility. “Back to normal.”

“Oh, good,” Gwen said, the words a rush of relief. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Isobelle batted back. “I didn’t mean to cause all this drama. I’ll warn you about the tea next time.”

Gwen laughed her near-silent laugh, and Isobelle tried with all her might to make herself believe that the feeling coursing through her veins was relief. Gwen had shown her all day long what she thought of the not-quite-a-kiss. She was lucky to have found Gwen on her balcony at all—lucky she hadn’t run all the way back to the village, never to be seen again. She was lucky Gwen was still here to fight on her behalf.

Lucky, she told herself. Lucky, lucky, lucky.

But watching that encounter on the balcony slip through her fingers and allowing time to carry her away from it, she couldn’t make herself feel it was true. Gwen was only a few inches from her, every movement making her skin prickle, but Isobelle felt as though some vast and uncrossable chasm had opened up between them.

She felt as though she’d held something precious in her hand, just for a moment, and then she’d dropped it. And now she’d never have a chance to get it back.

Chapter Nineteen
A deer trying to hide in a pack of ravenous wolves

Archer provided them with Gwen’s papers at sunrise, and he gruffly waved away the purse of coins Isobelle tried to press into his hand. “El—Olivia would skin me alive if she found out I’d taken your money.”

They saddled the horses and set off as soon as it was light enough. The ride was quiet, uncomfortably so—Gwen never thought she would miss feeling the constant tingle of Isobelle’s eyes on her, but, as it turned out, she felt far worse when the other girl wouldn’t look at her at all.

As they approached the castle gates, Madame Dupont drew her gelding off the road and into a copse of trees, signaling her need for a conference before they got too near the castle.