“Who are these women?” I asked, watching her walk toward me, flashes of bare leg showing with each step. “What does your grandmother have to do with Anushka?”

She sat on the edge of the desk, knees brushing against mine. “My grandmother was one of her victims.” She toyed with the sash holding her wrap in place. “I don’t know exactly how, but Anushka used their deaths to maintain her immortality.”

I waited, knowing she had more to tell me.

“There are certain spells that are made easier by a close blood bond,” she said, letting go of the sash. “These women are my ancestors.”

“And her descendants,” I finished, the information not surprising me as much as it should. I glanced at the list of names and dates. “That’s why you were afraid for your mother – she’s next.” And then it would be Cécile’s turn.

“What about your sister?”

“Josette isn’t a witch.”

“But your mother is?”

Cécile hesitated. “I… Yes. I think she has the capability, but I don’t think she realizes it. Certainly, I’ve never seen her use magic.”

I wasn’t certain I agreed, but I refrained from pressing her. The question would keep.

She lifted a hand to her mouth and began nipping at one of her fingernails until I carefully pulled her arm down.

“If we stop her from killing my mother or me, she’ll lose her immortality. Then it will only be a matter of time.”

Because this mess needed another layer of complication. “For certain, we need to catch her,” I said. “What we do with her after… We can decide that later.”

“What do you propose?”

“We bait her out,” I said. Originally, my plan with Chris had been to use myself as the bait. Anushka would know who and what I was, and I did not think she’d stand idly by while I wandered free. But this was better.

“She needs you and your mother,” I said. “If word were to spread that I were involved with you, that I intended to take you two away from Trianon, she’ll be forced to act, and in doing so, will reveal herself.”

One of her eyebrows rose. “What precisely do you mean by involved?”

I shrugged. “This Marquis your mother dallies with is rich, but I’m much richer. What do you say, my dearest wife, of your taking on a patron?”

Chapter 37

Tristan

“You’re late,” I said, stepping out from the copse of trees where I’d been waiting, Souris trailing along at my heels.

“You needn’t cry about it,” Chris replied, pulling the pair of grey horses to a halt on the road.

I tried to glare balefully at him, but I was certain the effect was ruined by the tears that were in fact streaming down my cheeks. The sun was wickedly bright, reflecting off the patches of snow and searing into my eyes.

“You’re like a mole that’s lost its hole.”

“I don’t know what a mole is,” I said, opening the carriage door and lifting the dog inside.