Which is why Lessa didn’t see Victoria until it was too late. Her fist connected just under Lessa’s ribs, driving the air out of her lungs and sending her staggering back. “That’s for Anaïs,” Victoria shouted, and before Lessa could react, my friend punched her hard in the side of the face, the crunch of bone audible from across the room. “And that’s for me.”

Dragging in a breath, I lurched in their direction. Victoria had caught Lessa by surprise, but my sister was still more powerful.

But I needn’t have worried, because Vincent and Marc had been right on her heels.

Lessa’s eyes flicked between them, the crushed bones of her face slowly reforming. “I’m going to make you suffer for this,” she said, her voice garbled by her shattered jaw.

“That a challenge?” Victoria asked, smiling as she rubbed her knuckles. “Because if it is, I accept.”

“A duel to the death, perhaps?” Vincent added, clapping his hands together. “Everyone enjoys those.”

Lessa licked her lips nervously, using the wall behind her as support as she climbed to her feet. “You can’t kill me,” she whispered. “You can’t… He’ll punish you.”

“Oh, she is a liar, isn’t she?” Victoria said, voice dripping with uncharacteristic malice. “I’m more than capable of killing you, Lessa.”

“Let her go.” I coughed, my throat itching as it healed the damage the noose had done. Was it taking longer than normal? “I’ll not stoop to her level.” Just yet.

The twins’ faces fell, but they let Lessa scurry by without argument.

“What are you three doing here?” I asked, my relief at seeing Marc momentarily chasing away all my concerns. Was he well? Had he forgiven me? I wished I could see his face so as to better judge his frame of mind, but it was hidden by the hood of his cloak.

“Élise saw Lessa enter your rooms and was concerned about what she intended,” my cousin said. “She sought me out.”

Élise. I owed that girl a thousand times over. “Your arrival was timely.”

“I believe ‘thanks’ is the word you’re grasping for,” Marc replied, his voice dry.

He sounded normal. Sane. What stroke of good fortune was this? “You’re right,” I said, my cheeks aching with an unfamiliar grin. “Thank you. There are no words for how glad I am to see you three.”

A wave of dizziness hit me, chased away only by the shot of pain that lanced up my arm when I caught my balance on the desk.

“What’s wrong?” Marc asked, and all three of them came closer.

“Cécile.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to find my equilibrium. “Something’s happened. She’s desperate. More desperate than I’ve ever felt her.” I clenched my teeth together. “She’s going to do something.”

But what? I cursed my lack of information. My helplessness. If she was acting under this level of desperation, the outcome could be disastrous. Perhaps even fatal.

The finality of the situation hit me, and with it came a compulsion I could not deny. “I must get back to work,” I muttered. “I must finish this.”