“Your Majesties.”

For the first time in my life, I see Corday’s face betray actual feeling: a brilliant, burning hatred. I shiver. I’d not for anything in the world have Corday look at me like that.

“Messieurs Mandrille, Vervet, and Tarsier, you have no children,” Corday says, turning to the other Lords.

“No, madame,” they drone back at the stage.

“Very well, then. I drink to your health.”

The Assassins disperse and bring a glass of champagne to each of the gentlemen mentioned. Corday mimes raising a glass in the air.

“Santé,” she says, and they drink.

“And the rest of you all have children.”

“Yes, madame,” they reply.

“Then I have a gift for you.”

The Assassins move through the room, handing a small glass bottle with a stopper to each standing person. The queen takes hers and clutches it tightly to her chest.

“You will give it to the child you love the most and make sure they drink the fullness of it.”

I turn in horror to the prince, who is staring, dazed, at the stage. Panic races through me, along with the realization that somehow, I don’t dislike him as much as I thought, since I definitely don’t want him to die.

“Yes, madame,” the queen says.

23

Les Diamants de la Couronne

Corday smiles.

“From this day forth, whoever even thinks of putting death in the waters of this city will cast their own hand into the flames until it is ruined.”

“Yes, madame,” the whole room echoes.

“And when I clap my hands, you’ll awaken and forget all that has been said.”

She claps her hands twice and everyone starts, as if waking from a dream. They murmur and mutter. Then they see they’re all on the floor and begin to giggle like children, pointing at each other. Corday takes a deep bow before disappearing from the stage in a puff of heavily scented smoke. Thunderous applause breaks out all around us.

I shake Ettie and the dauphin. They are slow to wake.

“Get up, both of you. Now.”

They frown blearily at me as I drag them to their feet.

“We have to get out of here.”

Several nobles have been poisoned tonight. Who knows if it is contagious. Who knows what might happen next.

“Ah, there’s my son,” the queen calls over my shoulder.

Think, Nina. Think!

I grab the prince by the lapels of his velvet coat and he blinks at me.

“Don’t drink it,” I hiss urgently in his ear.

His eyes widen in confusion.

“My son!” The queen is before us, the king at her side.

I let go of the dauphin’s jacket, and we bow to them.

“I have something for you,” she says, holding out the crystal bottle to the prince. “I saved it especially for you.” She smiles at him, her eyes soft and kind. “Will you drink it for me?”

The dauphin’s eyes dart to me, then to his mother.

“Come,” the queen presses. “We’ll drink it together.”