My stomach clenched at his admission, scripted though it was. Just because he wanted to save Roland didn’t mean it was part of our plan.

“What if it’s a trap?” I asked, readying myself to lie. “What if she hasn’t given Roland the potion? What if we get there and I try to work the spell to cure him, and nothing happens. We’ll be caught in a battle in the middle of Courville.”

“It’s possible,” Tristan admitted. “But from her own lips, she doesn’t want Roland to be King.”

This was the crux of our plan: to create doubt in Angoulême’s mind of Lessa’s loyalty, but not certainty that she’d switched sides, because all he’d do then was have Roland kill her.

“You’re going to have to give up something,” I said. “She’s not going to let us near Roland without concessions, and we only have so much time before the potion passes through his system. And once it’s gone, we aren’t going to get another chance.”

“The plan will work.” His voice took on a slightly irritated edge.

“Don’t get mad at me for worrying,” I snapped. “You were the one who was so confident that capturing Angoulême in the tombs would go off without a hitch and look what happened. Vincent’s a mindless shell, and Victoria’s a grieving mess.”

Silence.

“A low blow, Cécile.” The fury in his voice made my skin burn, and I stepped back despite knowing it was an act. “You’d do well to remember that it’s to save your kind that I have to do this at all. That it’s my friends and people who are suffering to ensure their survival.”

I flinched, because his words were the cold truth.

“I’m going to finish packing up, and then we’re leaving,” he said. “Courville is a long ways from here.”

I waited until he’d gone to the far side of the clearing, then, whirling, I stormed around the fire and kicked Angoulême in the ribs. “I hate you,” I snarled. “This is your fault!”

The snow crunched as someone ran up behind me, then Chris lifted me off my feet and pulled me back. “Cécile, don’t!”

“Why not?” I demanded. “He deserves it a thousand times over for what he did to Vincent. And to Victoria.”

“Because he’s bound and helpless, that’s why.” Chris’s words sounded rehearsed, and I prayed the Duke didn’t notice.

“He’s not helpless.” I slumped on a stump next to the fire, every inch of me tense with having the Duke in such close proximity. Especially knowing that Victoria’s magic was slowly unraveling. Knowing that he could hear me. “Do you think Tristan would be treating him with kid gloves if he was helpless? Would be negotiating with that backstabbing whore?”

“Easy,” Chris replied, sitting across from me. “Tristan knows what he’s doing. He’ll make the deal, and in a matter of days, Roland will be cured and the Duke will be dead. The war will be over.”

“But at what cost?” I blew my nose on a handkerchief. “Do you know what deal Lessa offered him before? That he set me aside and take her, pretending to be Anaïs, as his wife. Her allegiance in exchange for him making her queen.”