“When I give the word, Martin,” Thibault murmured, gaze tracking the sluag’s progress, “I want you to take Cécile and run.”

“Where, Your Grace?” The librarian’s voice was surprisingly steady considering how tight his grip was on my arm.

“Out of Trollus and back to Trianon.” He lifted his spear. “Go to Tristan’s favorite place to contemplate his woes; there is a passage leading to the surface.”

The lake.

“Tristan told me of no such passage.” Even now, I found it impossible to trust Thibault.

“My son doesn’t know half as much as he thinks.” He took a few steps toward the stacks. “Lessa needn’t have left if she’d wanted to see the faces of her ancestors, and neither did her puppet master.”

He was speaking in code, which meant he believed that Winter was watching. And that she’d try to stop me.

“Run!”

Martin didn’t hesitate. Hauling on my arm, he dragged me across the room. We leapt over piles of books, climbing over the fallen shelves until we reached the side door.

“It’s stuck!” he hissed, hand scrabbling at the handle.

My dagger.

“Break it down!” One of the sluag screamed, and I cast a backward glance toward Tristan’s father. He stood at the center of the dying flames, powerful, brilliant, and fearless, and for an instant, I saw the ruler he might have been.

As though sensing my scrutiny, he turned his head. “Run,” he commanded.

And I obeyed.

The door lay in splinters on the street, and Martin stood staring at it as though it was the first time he’d ever used his formidable strength. I grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the palace grounds. But as we rounded the corner of the library, we ran up against four guards.

“Sluag in the library,” I shouted. “His Majesty is fighting them alone. Go!”

For a moment, I wondered if I had erred. Whether they’d see it as an opportunity to rid themselves of their King once and for all. But not one of them hesitated.

The librarian seemed at a loss of how to make his way unseen through the city, so I took the lead, scampering down back alleys and through courtyards, always keeping to the shadowy routes my friends had shown me.

But that could only take us so far.

The gate to the River Road was closed, and several armored trolls stood before it, silver eyes watchful. The right branch of the river and the narrow path running next to it were undefended, but there was no way to reach it without the guards seeing us.

“Will they stop us?” I whispered even as I recognized Guillaume amongst them and knew I couldn’t risk him spotting me. He was as much Angoulême’s as Albert had been.

“They’ll do more than stop us.” Martin rested one hand against the building. “Curfew is in effect, and even if it wasn’t, there’s no reason for us to go to the lake. It was Prince Tristan’s haunt, and his father’s before him.