Anushka’s gun fired.

Chapter 56

Cécile

The swing took a thousand years to lower, and I jumped off when it was still several feet above the ground. Ignoring the startled looks, I sprinted toward the exit and into the hall, letting instinct guide me in Tristan’s direction, screaming a mental warning to him even as I felt his shock and knew it had come too late. My bare feet made little noise as I ran through the narrow corridors. If she kills him, it will be your fault, my conscience whispered, and I knew it was true. I’d thought I could have it both ways, and now I was paying for my mistake.

The sharp bark of a pistol firing filled the corridors, and I tripped on the hem of my skirt and fell, barely feeling the pain as the rough stone floors ripped the palms of my thin gloves. A howl tore out of my chest, and I pressed my forehead against my hands, waiting for the sharp knife of death to carve my insides out and leave me empty as it had the moment I’d knelt before the guillotine.

But it did not come.

Tristan was furious and very afraid, but unharmed. So who had been shot?

Climbing to my feet, I eased cautiously down the dimly lit hall, stopping instinctively in front of a heavy door. Tristan was on the other side, but who was with him? Was it only Anushka, or did she have an accomplice? For all I knew, there could be a dozen of Marie’s guards standing in the room with her. Of a certainty, this was a trap, but it wasn’t one I could run away from.

But that didn’t mean I had to go in blind.

Hurrying down the hall, I tried the door of the adjoining room. It was locked. But the next one wasn’t. My heart racing, I ran through the dark chambers to one of the narrow windows on the far wall. It was less than a foot wide, but for once my short stature came in handy as I unlatched the glass and climbed up onto the windowsill.

Icy wind tore at my hair and dress, and my stomach clenched as I looked down. It wasn’t a horridly distant drop, but if I fell onto the bare stone below, my injuries would be grievous. The alternative was much worse, so I inched out onto the narrow ledge and cautiously eased my way toward the next window, my bare feet burning.

The snow crunched with each step I took, my fingers digging into the crumbling mortar between the heavy blocks of stone. My pulse thundered in my ears as I reached the window well; and clinging to the edge, I peered in with one eye.

It was a bedroom, both dark and empty, but through an open set of doors, I could see into the sitting room that adjoined it. Julian stood with his back to me, the gun he held leveled at Tristan’s head, indicating that Anushka had cut him off from his magic, because otherwise such a threat would be meaningless. My mother stood a few paces in front of him, smiling and gesturing with the silver pistol in her hand. And Sabine…