“To cede the Isle to my father,” I said. “Among other things.”

Cécile’s brow furrowed, and she tucked a stray curl behind one ear. “This is not his way,” she murmured, but before I could question her meaning, Sabine and the twins rushed in, a large chest floating ahead of them.

“The book,” Cécile ordered, and Victoria plucked the grimoire from the chest and tossed it to her. She flipped swiftly through the pages, then stopped on one, scanning the contents. “This will do.”

“Don’t you dare hurt him,” Marie said, but Cécile ignored her. “Nettle leaf and camphor,” she said.

Victoria frowned, and Sabine elbowed past her, leaning in to the chest and rummaging through the glass bottles. Cécile listed the rest of the ingredients for the spell, then set the book aside and began dropping bits of this and that into a bowl. “I need a stone.”

The twins looked around, then Vincent heaved one of the flagstones out of the floor. “This do?”

She nodded and he set it in front of her. “Fire.”

Sabine handed her a candle, and she muttered, “Sleep,” lit the contents of the bowl on fire, then poured the mixture over the stone. Instead of a chunky mess of plants and bones, the mixture was liquid flame. It hit the stone, then, defying gravity, circled back up to pool in the bottom of the overturned basin. Cécile muttered, “Sleep,” once again, and turned the basin over, revealing what looked like water.

“Cup.”

Victoria handed her a dirty wine glass that had been sitting on the table, and Cécile dunked it into her potion. “Hold him steady.” She looked up then, blue eyes meeting mine, and I saw the uncertainty that I’d been feeling. She didn’t know if it would work.

“What is this supposed to do?” I asked.

“Put him into a deep sleep.” She licked her lips once. Then again.

“We tried that with a tonic,” I said, more for Marie’s benefit than Cécile’s. Better her expectations be low.

“But this is magic,” Cécile said, and then she poured the potion into the lord’s mouth. “Sleep,” she repeated, and all the candles in the room flared bright, then guttered out.

Three balls of troll-light filled the room, none of them mine.

“Is he… dead?” Marie looked like she was about to be sick.

“He’s asleep.” I tilted my head, listening to the slow but steady beat of the other man’s heart. “How long will it last?”

Cécile sighed. “We’ll have to give him more of the potion in a few days. And figure out a way to keep him fed. All this will be for nothing if he starves to death.” Climbing to her feet, she surveyed the room, eyes widening at the bloodstains covering the floor. “What has happened?”

Letting Aiden’s head drop to the floor with a thud, I got to my feet as well. “Compulsion drove him to kill his father.”

She covered her mouth with one hand, and I felt the stab of empathetic grief as she turned to Marie. “My lady, I am so sorry.”