Out of the corner of my eye, I saw motion from Tristan’s side of the room. I wanted to turn my head and look, but I dared not. Instead I smiled and nodded as each of the girls took their turn, cursing the very idea that there was so much virtue in the world. Finally they had all finished and returned to their partners. The music struck up, I lifted my head to resume swinging, and I saw Sabine standing by the doors closest to the stage. But she wasn’t watching me. Instead, she was facing toward the rear of the room, eyes fixed on my mother, her posture rigid.

Too late, I remembered – Sabine had also seen the mask in Catherine’s memory. And it had clearly made an impression.

It was only all my practice and training that got the first line of the song through my numb lips as she began to pick her way toward Tristan. My gloves felt sodden with sweat between my palms and the ropes, logic telling me not to react, but instinct demanding I leap off my swing and stop her.

Julian sprang onto the stage below me, dancing circles around the girls as he tried to tempt away their virtues, but they all spurned him, and he and I dueled until he scampered offstage. Only one more short song to praise the victory and strength of the girls, and then it would be over.

I sang louder than I should, wishing I could feel the triumph of music. But there was no winning in my situation, no choice that wouldn’t have painful consequences. No matter what I did, I was destined to lose. And it would happen in minutes. Sabine had only a few more people to navigate around before she reached Tristan and told him the truth. Then he’d try to kill my mother, and there’d be only one way to stop him.

Why should you stop him, the promise whispered. She’s a murderer.

She’s my mother.

He’ll never forgive you…

You don’t know that.

You gave your word…

The ballroom blurred as I warred my internal argument, then sharpened into focus as Sabine stopped in her tracks, and though the music was too loud for me to hear, the curses were clear on her lips. Spinning on her heel, she ignored the appalled expressions on people’s faces and pushed her way back to the exit. My voice wavered as my eyes jerked to where Tristan had been standing moments before, catching only a flash of him as he bolted through another exit.

Panic flooded through my veins, and, not caring if all the audience noticed, I twisted on the swing, my eyes searching, searching for sight of my mother.

She was gone.

Chapter 55

Tristan

Genevieve ambled her way along the far side of the ballroom, expression unconcerned as she paused to greet guests, the chatter of the room loud to compensate for the grinding noise of the rotating set. She cast a backward glance at the stage when the lights dimmed, and my eyes went with hers in time to watch the curtain lift, revealing Cécile sitting on a swing high above the stage.