Catching hold of her reins, I pulled both horses to a halt. “A good leader, a good ruler, is willing to lay down her life to save one of her people, but is wise and strong enough to know that she cannot.”

Cécile met my gaze, blue eyes bright with anger. “You’re the leader. You’re the ruler. Not me.”

I let go of her reins. “Are you certain about that?”

The only answer I got was her digging her heels into her horse’s sides and taking off at a gallop. I gave my own mount a kick, and he was more than happy to take off after Cécile, leaving me with the sole responsibility of not falling off the side. We were through Goshawk’s Hollow almost before I realized we were in it, the few people outside giving us startled looks as we flew down the one street. Then we were back in the woods, the boughs of the trees bending beneath the weight of the snow, and the only sound the thud of hooves.

Abruptly, she slowed her horse and veered off into the woods. Dropping into a walk, she wove amongst the trees before stopping next to a snow bowl. “This is the last mark on the map from my spell.”

“How do you know?” I asked, glancing around at trees and wondering what distinguished this spot from any other.

“The map is in my mind.” Her eyes were still and unblinking. “The parchment with the markers was only a physical manifestation of the knowledge – I didn’t realize it at first, but I never really needed it.”

It was a hard thing to comprehend, but I didn’t ask her to explain any further. I wasn’t sure if she could.

“I think the body is my grandmother’s.”

Given that the body of Genevieve’s mother had never been found, it was a reasonable enough assertion. I glanced at the trees, feeling a sense of unease in knowing Anushka had murdered a woman in the very spot we stood. That one day it could be Cécile she pursued through the darkened woods.

“Why was she here?” Cécile muttered, more to herself than to me. “What possible reason could she have had to come to the farm when by all accounts, she detested my father’s very existence.”

It was a good question, but not one we’d ever have an answer to. Whatever her reason for venturing to the Hollow, Anushka had caught up with her before she could fulfill it.

Without another word, Cécile turned back to the road, and we trotted along in silence before she eventually said, “I haven’t had a chance to send word to them about you, so this will come as a bit of a surprise.” Eyes forward, she walked her horse down the lane toward a modest-sized home and a larger structure that I expected was the barn. Four dogs with substantially more stature than Souris charged us, barking and baying; and ahead, I saw an older man come out of the barn, hand shading his eyes as he watched our approach. In the whites and greys of winter, there was no missing Cécile’s hair.