“I’m not sure yet,” he muttered, tapping his pencil against his chin. “An idea… Or not. We shall see.”

“It’s now or never, I suppose,” Victoria said from across the room, and both twins left off what they were doing and rose.

“Good luck,” Tristan said to them. “Remember, cheating is always a valid option.”

They grinned as they departed, and I shook my head at him. “You’re a bad influence.”

He inclined his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Dropping the pencil, he leaned back in his chair, the doors to the room clicking shut, magic shutting out sight and sound. “Well?”

“The half-blood ranks are growing,” I said. “More and more are committing to the cause, are swearing that they’ll fight when it comes to it, but…”

“But?”

“Too many refuse to commit without knowing who the leader is.”

“They’re supposed to think it’s you.”

“They know it’s not me, Tristan.” I leaned back on my chair, balancing it on two legs. “I haven’t the mettle to overthrow the crown – they know I’m a stalking horse, but they want proof that whoever I represent has the power to see this through.”

Taking another cake from the tray, Tristan’s eyes went distant as he chewed, finishing the dessert before he asked, “Do they suspect me?”

“No. Tips has told me at least a dozen of the popular theories, but no one has marked you for the role of revolutionary. Why overthrow a crown that is destined to be yours anyway?”

What I didn’t say was that no one would suspect the tyrant prince would ever have sympathetic leanings to half-bloods – he’d played his part too well for that. Maybe a little too well, I thought, remembering Pénélope’s outburst. There was no love lost for him by those who had kindness in their hearts.

“They believe,” I added, “that our friendship is false on my part – that I’ve been planted to spy on you, or perhaps to take you out when the time is right.”

“Who do they favor for the role?”

I hesitated. “My father.”

Tristan winced, then rested his elbows on the table. “I’m sorry for that. I know it puts your entire family at risk, but you’re the only one who can do this. If I could…”

He trailed off: the explanation for why it was impossible for him to take on the burden was not worth voicing. Tristan’s movements were too well scrutinized for him to meet with the half-bloods without notice, and there was too much risk that once they knew his identity, the knowledge would fall into the hands of those who’d use it against us, namely, the Duke. Or worse, the King. Everything was predicated upon his ability to defeat his father, and as powerful as my cousin was, Thibault was more powerful still.

“I know it’s demanding of me to ask this of you,” Tristan said, “but for now, you’re the heart of our revolution, Marc. Without you, everything we’ve worked for will collapse. Trollus depends on you.”