I licked my lips and glanced at Tristan, but the look in his eyes told me I was on my own in this. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Both Victoria’s eyebrows rose. “You think sorry is going to make up for leaving us to watch your grandmother weep for fear of what had become of you? Not even close, Cécile. You’re going to have to earn our forgiveness.”

“I understand,” I said, knowing better than to ask how I might accomplish that. Just as I knew better than to try to justify my actions. What I’d learned had been worth the risk, but that didn’t mean I was exempt from the consequences of my actions.

Chris came running in then, bending over as he struggled to catch his breath. “Came back as soon as I heard Cécile was here.” His eyes landed on Tristan, and his face broke into a grin. “Well, if it isn’t the prettiest prince to ever walk the Isle. So glad you could finally join us.”

“Necessity,” Tristan replied. “As you can see, my attire has been woefully neglected since my half-trained manservant abandoned me to a greater cause.”

Chris’s face turned bright red, then he laughed and slung an arm around Tristan’s shoulder. “How fortunate that you make even rags look good, Your Highness.”

“It’s Your Majesty, now. Although I suppose Roland might contest my claim.” Tristan’s tone was light, but Chris seemed to sense that congratulations were not in order.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said, taking a swig of a wine skin before passing it to Tristan. “I’ve trouble enough finding hats to fit your ego as it is.”

Then they all turned expectantly to me. “What’s the plan?” I asked. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as you tell us where we’re going,” Tristan responded.

Unease prickled over my skin. “Didn’t Martin tell you…” I trailed off.

“Martin isn’t here,” Tristan said, then turned to Vincent and Victoria, who both shook their heads.

“He was with me when we learned what had happened to you,” I said, setting aside my cup. “He was supposed to come here and tell you where Angoulême’s hiding – your family’s tombs,” I added, glancing at Tristan. “I gave him directions to find the twins and told him the signals to use.”

“I don’t know this Martin fellow,” Chris said. “But given he’s never been outside of Trollus, there is every possibility he’s wandering around lost in the woods.”

“Or that he’s run afoul of someone he shouldn’t have, and they know our location,” Vincent said, scratching his arm. “We may need to move our camp.”

They all argued about where Martin might be and what he might be doing, but I barely heard them, my ears full of a strange ringing.

Tristan touched my arm. “Cécile?”

My mouth was dry. “He was in love with Élise.”

Tristan hissed softly between his teeth, and everyone went silent.

“I promised him revenge,” I said. “That you would see Angoulême dead for what he did to her.”