“They’re gone,” I hissed, the scrap of fabric disappearing in a burst of flame.

The room trembled, magic compounding the heat of the fire.

“Are you sure?” Josette was shaking, her wine a pool of red on the tabletop.

I turned and gave her black glare.

“Maybe they’re in your other coat,” she whispered.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “I need them.”

And it was the truth. It was taking every ounce of willpower I had not to react to Cécile’s terror. It’s not real, I told myself. It’s all part of Winter’s plan.

But what if it was real? What if Cécile needed me and this plan was a mistake? The back of the chair cracked and splintered beneath my grip, and I shoved it aside.

Moving with speed no human possessed, I was around the table, catching hold of Joss’s sleeve and dragging her close. “Your sister is in danger, but if I leave…” I stared intently at her, as though she possessed the solution to my dilemma.

She cracked. “Please help my sister, Tristan. Please don’t let anything happen to her.”

It was either the finest bit of acting she’d managed, or she was genuinely afraid for Cécile’s wellbeing. Suspecting the latter, I bit the inside of my cheeks. Something wasn’t right, but I didn’t dare stop now.

“I need those seeds,” I said. “Who took them?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, and I knew this wasn’t going as she had planned. She’d expected me to go running straight out the castle gates and into Winter’s clutches, and now she didn’t know what to do.

“Sabine,” I hissed. “She was against me using the magic, and she’s had the opportunity. She took them from me.”

Josette blanched. “Surely not. She wouldn’t steal from you. Sabine is loyal.”

“Don’t protect her.” I shoved past, moving out into the corridor, doors exploding open as I passed. “Do you know what I do to thieves?”

Her eyes were bright with panic as she clutched at my arm, her fear for the innocent Sabine warring with her desire to trick me, and with her terror of just what I’d do if she admitted to having thrown them in the flames. “You need to help Cécile,” she pleaded, but I shrugged her off.

Catching hold of one of the half-bloods hurrying down the hall, I jerked him close. “Where is Sabine?”

“The gatehouse, Your Highness,” he replied. “With Lord Marc.”

Joss took off running, and I strode after her, winding my way through the corridors and out into the open air.

“Sabine,” Josette screamed. “Run. You need to run.”

Cécile’s blonde friend twisted around, her eyes widening at the sight of us. Then Marc stepped in the line of fire. “Stones and sky, Tristan, what’s going on?”

“My seeds,” I shouted, and then I leveled a finger at her. “Where. Are. They?”

Sabine took a step back. Then another.

“Tristan, she hasn’t done anything wrong,” Marc said, throwing up a shield to block my path. I shattered it with a single blow and demanded, “Where are they?”