He shook his head. “You deserved better.”

“I love you,” she said, her tears turning the blood on her lips from red to pink.

Tristan’s hands trembled around the spear. “Anaïstromeria,” he said, the name spoken as though it were an invocation. Her pupils dilated, fixing on him with a preternatural intensity.

“No more tears,” he commanded, and her eyes immediately dried. The words he spoke after that were in a language I’d never heard before – one not of this world. But I could tell from his tone they were a valediction – a final farewell between friends. When he finished speaking, Tristan leaned forward and kissed her. When he pulled back, the spear came with him.

The keening wail of pain made me cringe.

“Go,” she gasped. “There isn’t much time.”

Tristan came over to my side. “He knew everything,” I choked out. “I tried to warn you, but…” A racking cough tore through my chest. “He has a witch somewhere in the city.”

Tristan’s eyes flicked over to his father. “He’ll never tell me where. It’s better we leave Trollus now, while we have the chance.”

A small, satisfied little smile rose on the King’s face.

Tristan carefully wrapped my torso in magic to keep my ribs from moving, then scooped me up off the bed, my dying, drugged body limp in his arms. “Thank you,” I whispered to Anaïs as he walked to the broken window.

“I didn’t do it for you,” she said.

“I know,” I said. “Thank you anyway.”

Over Tristan’s shoulder, I saw the King on the ground, held in place by magic. As I suspected, there was no fear in his eyes, but what sent a thrill of terror through my body was the calm thoughtfulness on his face. It made me afraid that despite how things appeared on the surface, the situation had still gone according to his plans.

Tristan stepped out onto the balcony and through the sound barrier. Shouts and screams filled the air.

“I ordered the sympathizers to start the rebellion.”

“I know,” I croaked. “You need to make them stop.”

“Not yet,” he muttered, hurrying over to the wall. “Victoria? Vincent?”

“Here!”

I rose up into the air and felt another set of magic hands catch hold of me, lowering me down until I was in Vincent’s big arms. “Don’t you worry, Cécile,” he said, grinning. “We’ll get you out of here.”

Tristan dropped down next to us and took me back in his arms. “Marc’s waiting?”

They nodded.

“Let’s go then.”

“The fighting’s thickest down at River Road,” Victoria whispered as we ran down dark alleys, making our way stealthily through the city. “They think that’s the way you’ll try to take her, so we engaged them there to keep up the ruse.”

I heard magic break against magic, sword against sword. The screams of the dying hung in my ears, blood flashing in my eyes. Dying because of me. Dying because Tristan had ordered them to. But it all seemed to be part of a dream. My delirium.