“But you’re still whole,” I said. “Which makes it more than a partial victory.” I turned back to Victoria, who was holding tight to her brother’s hand. “What do you want to do?”

“We’ll see this through,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “The spell will wait.”

That was loyalty, pure and true. Where would I be without my friends? What would I be? And not just the twins and Marc, but Cécile, Chris, and Sabine. My nature was to be distrustful, but not with them. And it wasn’t a weakness.

Angoulême lay unmoving next to the fire where we’d left him, and I considered the state in which we’d found him. Alone and half mad, and not, I thought, from the solitude. It was the lack of control. He trusted no one. Not his mother, nor his followers, and certainly not Roland. The one exception seemed to be Lessa, whom he’d left to execute his plans. Only I didn’t believe for a second that he’d put his faith in my duplicitous sister without certain controls.

“He’s forced her into some sort of promise,” I muttered, knowing in my heart she wouldn’t have sworn to anything except under duress. Which, in its own way, would make him trust her less, because he’d know she’d be looking for ways to get out from under his control.

I was certain I’d rattled his confidence in her with the knowledge that she’d lied about Anaïs’s death, but what if we undermined it further? What would he do if he suspected she’d double-crossed him? What would he do if he thought she’d altered his plans?

“I’m glad of your decision,” I said to Victoria, my mind whirling. “I need you and your magic to take over Angoulême’s containment. And I need you to do a poor job of it.”

Victoria lifted one eyebrow. “Why is that?”

“Because I need you two to help me play a trick.”

Chapter 48

Cécile

“I don’t like this strategy,” I said, wrapping my arms around Tristan’s neck to steady my nerves. I was used to being on stage, but never before had lives depended on my performance. And we were trying to fool a master of duplicity. “I don’t trust Lessa – her only loyalty is to herself. Already she’s gone back on her word. They were supposed to remain in Trollus.”

“I don’t trust her, either,” Tristan responded. “But we know she likes to play both sides until she’s certain who will land on top. Angoulême was a fool to believe she’d be content under his control. Lessa isn’t Roland.”

“No, she isn’t,” I said. “At least Roland cares for you in his strange fashion. Lessa only sees you as a means to an end. Once we’ve cured Roland, she’ll try to kill you. Or me. Again.”

“Likely,” he said, his voice cheerful. “But we don’t really have a choice. As long as Roland remains surrounded by humans, I can’t take him by force without risking casualties. And frankly, I’m not sure I could subdue him without killing him. Your spell took the iron from Martin and fixed him – I want that chance for Roland. And if we can cure his madness, then there’s nothing to stop us from killing Angoulême.”