Tears of effort streamed down my face as I exited the tunnel, but still I looked up.

Prince Roland looked down. He cocked his head slightly to the side, clearly recognizing my weakening illusion for what it was, and smiled.

Fear like nothing I’d ever known filled me, the current suddenly sluggish and slow and doing nothing to whisk me away.

A filament of magic nudged the edge of my raft and I wobbled. Roland’s smile grew, and magic nudged me again, harder this time. My leg slipped off the edge, and I jerked it back, clinging to the soft mess that was sinking deeper and deeper.

My breath came in fast little gasps, but there was nothing I could do but watch as the mad prince reached out one little hand and flicked his finger.

My magic disappeared and I sank like a stone, my bare feet hitting the stream bed.

Nothing happened.

Barely an inch ahead of my toes I felt the faintest warmth of magic, but luck or fate or the stars had allowed the current to pull me just beyond the reach of my father’s trap. But Roland knew someone was here. Knew there was a spy in his midst.

He stared down at me and I stared back, frozen within the weak cover of water and darkness.

Then a feral fury filled the little boy’s face, and he half turned as though he’d been called. I wondered, in that brief, painful moment, if my father knew just how dangerous the six-year-old Montigny prince was. Then Roland’s expression smoothed. He waggled his fingers once at me and disappeared into the confines of the gazebo.

I could scarcely breathe, and it took a moment to regain enough control of my limbs to take one step back, then two, then three, until I was hidden around the bend of the stream. I remained crouched in the icy water until the meeting finished, until the group had departed from the atrium, until the house grew silent.

Only then did I find the courage to move.

I ran.

Chapter 13

Marc

I sat on my bed with a book in hand, trying to distract myself enough that I’d grow weary and fall asleep. Thus far, I’d had little luck, and I fully expected to have another sleepless night.

Tick.

I frowned and glanced at the window, as the sound of a rock falling from above, small or otherwise, was never not unnerving.

Tick.

Unease prickled down my spine. I hadn’t noticed any movements in the ground today – certainly not a shake of magnitude – but the tree was a sensitive structure, and even the slightest shift meant trouble.

Tick.

I went to the window, flinging it open and leaning out to look up right as a tiny rock hit me in the face. A rock that had come from below. I swore, ready to chastise the twins for one of their pranks, but it was neither Vincent nor Victoria standing beneath me. It was Pénélope.