“Give me a minute alone with them,” I said to Marc and the twins, and then I stepped through the door.

There were ten people crammed inside the small building, the fire at the center of the lone room more for light than heat, the press of human flesh enough to put beads of sweat on the brows of all present.

“How much do they know?” I asked under my breath.

“As much as I do. I’ve explained about Roland, Angoulême, and the King – they understand the factions,” he said. “And this building is ringed with steel, so you don’t need to worry about anyone listening in.”

I lifted one eyebrow.

“Tristan prepared me as best he could in the time he had. How to protect ourselves, and how to fight.” Chris jerked his chin at the group. “They know that much, too.”

I licked my lips, tasting sweat. Tristan had laid the groundwork for building an army, and this was the moment when I’d either build upon that foundation or burn it to the ground. I coughed to clear my throat, then my father stepped in front of me.

“Cécile, is it true what your sister says you’ve done?” he asked, and the anguish in his voice was like a knife to my heart.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Of course Joss had told them. How could I possibly have expected otherwise? My eyes raced around the room, taking in the crossed arms and mouths fixed in unbending lines.

“Did you kill your mother?”

Be a queen.

I lifted my chin. “No. I killed her murderer. I killed the witch who’d stolen my mother’s body and used it as her own. I killed the woman who intended to do the exact same thing to me.”

“You slaughtered the only thing that stood between us and these monsters,” Sabine’s father said. “And where is my girl? Is she well?”

“Sabine is in Trianon,” I said. “She’s staying in the Regent’s castle, and is under the protection of my husband. There is no safer place.”

A flurry of whispers filled the room, and I held my hand up to silence them. “Among trolls, as among humans, there are villains. Individuals who are corrupt, selfish, and cruel. The Duke d’Angoulême is one such troll. He controls my husband’s younger brother, Prince Roland, who is a child graced with incredible power, but also afflicted with violent madness. While it is the Prince who has been delivering wrath and ruin upon the Isle these past days, it is the Duke who is the mind behind the violence, his every move intended to bring him one step closer to his goal: taking the crown. We came to Colombey today to kill Roland.”

“And yet he’s still alive,” Sabine’s father snapped.

Chris coughed. “I’m afraid that’s our doing. Our stunt interrupted their plans, and…” He shrugged. “There was no way to know.”

“If this Duke’s the problem, why not go after him?”