“They’re poisonous.” Althacazur sounded annoyed. “The tree is showing off for you. Don’t worry, if you stop breathing, Tisdale has the antidote in his pocket.”

The monkey looked more alarmed still and patted his pocket, shaking his head.

“We need to go back now,” said Cecile, leaping to her feet.

“And Todd? You told me you’d tell me what happened to him.” Suddenly her mouth felt dry.

Cecile nodded and patted her hand. “She could kill any man she wanted. It doesn’t matter, but killing Émile did something to her—she enjoyed it and I think it made her stronger. As I got weaker from delivering my child, she actually gained strength. In her mind, had I not been pregnant with Margot, he’d have chosen her, so she took revenge on Margot by killing Desmond Bennett. Poor Margot fell apart—she always had a wild streak, some cambions do—but the magic combined with Dez’s disappearance was her undoing. Esmé killed Émile, Dez, Peter, and Todd. Every man we’ve loved, she’s chosen for revenge.”

“I blame myself. I sent Esmé to the White Forest. Sadly, she didn’t come back the same,” said Althacazur with true sadness in his voice. “I had thought she was just like me and could endure it, but I was wrong. For that, I have extended her liberties, but it is becoming politically difficult to continue. She must come back to the circus.”

Lara wondered if anyone realized that she was fading, but they kept talking among themselves. “I don’t feel well.” Her head felt heavy and she had trouble getting the words out. The trio stared at her trying to understand what she was saying.

“We’re almost to the top,” said Althacazur.

But Lara had stopped listening to their argument, tuning it out like a radio frequency. Todd is dead.

She became aware of a silence. All this time, she’d realized that she’d been kidding herself that she was prepared for this news. Oh, she’d uttered grand words about wanting to know the truth, and she’d pursued the mystery of Todd’s disappearance with Ben Archer like some modern-day Nancy Drew, but Lara had never, never considered what this moment would feel like. All hope was now lost, and the cold reality of his death hit her. Sure, she’d waited for hunters to find his body in a patch of Wickelow Forest, or at least discover fabric from his shirt or a sneaker, some evidence of doom to slow-walk her to this moment. At times, she thought she’d felt his death and steeled herself for the news that would come one day. And Lara found she couldn’t cry. Even though she was poisoned and not concerned about herself, she refused to cry in front of these people. Audrey, Ben, Caren, yes, but these strangers… no.

“Lara.” It was Cecile who spoke.