He’d landed on a notion I hadn’t even considered. “Not well at all.”

“Then it would appear that no matter what you two decide to do, the witch’s days are numbered. Can’t say I entirely understand where your aunt gets her prophesies, but it would appear she was right.” Climbing to his feet, he knocked the embers out of his pipe. “I’ve a few last chores to finish up. Why don’t you head in and get washed up for dinner.”

Instead of going inside directly, I sat for a minute longer, taking in all that was around me. The glow of the sun fading behind the mountain peaks. The cold wind smelling of pine. The sounds of the animals in the barn. One of the dogs came up and sat beside me, brown eyes bright as she surveyed her domain. It was more than just a different life – it seemed like an entirely different world, and I allowed myself a moment to imagine what it would have been like to grow up here. To have a father like Louie. To have siblings who weren’t trying to kill me. To spend my days growing crops and raising animals rather than at politics and plotting. It seemed a very grand life, a perfect life, and it made me realize what Cécile was risking to help me.

Inside, I was greeted by the smell of wood smoke, cooking food, and Cécile’s little sister stirring a pot on the stove. “Put you to work, did he?”

“We had a great deal to discuss.” I tried scraping the mud off my boots, but it seemed like a lost cause, so I pulled them off and left them at the door.

She snorted and set the spoon aside. “You don’t say. Thirsty?”

“A bit.”

Josette went to a small cask sitting in the corner and returned with a mug of dark ale. “It’s this or water.”

“This is fine, thank you.” I expected her to go back to stirring, but she stood her ground, unabashedly looking at me from head to toe. Josette was quite a bit taller than Cécile, and blonde, but otherwise there was no mistaking that they were sisters.

“She’s upstairs with Gran, if you were wondering,” she said. “They sent me to finish dinner so they could talk.”

“How is she?”

“Upset. Scared.” Josette looked at our feet, then back up at me. “She cried for a long time.”

“She had reason to,” I said. “We lost a close friend today. And another is in grave danger.”

“She told us that.” Josette lifted her chin, and there was no missing the judgment in her eyes. “Cécile’s a crybaby. Always has been. Weeps when she’s happy, sad, mad. Last time I saw her cry like this was when Fleur got stung by a bee and bucked her off. But she got back on. My sister always gets back on.”

It was a challenge if I’d ever heard one, and I sensed that if I said a thing against Cécile that Josette would spit in my face and stick a knife between my ribs.