“Then I’ll kill him. And your grandmother and Lessa, too, if I have to.”

“And be executed for it. You’re no more exempt from the law than Anaïs is.” She curled in on herself, tucking her knees to her chest. “If you believe I’ll sacrifice your life just to save my own skin, you’re mistaken.”

“It’s not just you, though,” I said. Though even if it had been, I still would have been willing. She was precious to me, and the idea of a life without her was intolerable. A life alone. Maybe if we’d never walked this path, such an existence might’ve been made palatable, my days filled in service to Tristan, my passion fulfilled by the fight for our cause. But we had walked this path, and now, knowing what life could be like, how good and precious it could be, there was no going back. And there was no replacing her.

Her forehead dropped to her knees, one hand pressed to her stomach while the other balled into a fist.

No replacing them, I silently amended, knowing what I had to do. “Pénélope, do you trust me?”

She lifted her face, then said, “With my life.”

“Good,” I said. “Because I’m going to have to risk it to save it.”

I strolled back home, Pénélope trailing behind under a cloak of illusion that I had more trouble than usual maintaining. My magic wavered and trembled, and without my hood, the concentration on my face would have given away that I was up to something, if not what. I deliberately avoided Tristan, knowing where he’d be on his inspection of the tree, because if he discovered my intentions, he’d do everything in his power to stop me.

We went in through the servants’ entrance, several of them eyeing me with interest, but it was better than being waylaid by my parents if I’d come in the front, especially since they weren’t alone. There was an oppressive weight of power in the house, which meant the King was here. I was confident about my ability to sneak Pénélope past my family, but not past him. He missed nothing.

“Wait here,” I whispered once we reached my room and I dropped the illusion, revealing Pénélope’s wide eyes and tight expression. Then I hurried down the hall toward my mother’s chambers, where I proceeded to dig around in her closet until I found what I was looking for.

Back in my room, I said, “Put this on,” and handed her the leather and armor that had been my grandmother’s. “You’ll move easier in it.”

“And where exactly will I be wearing it?” she asked, setting the garments aside while she worked on unfastening the buttons on her dress. I turned to give her privacy, hearing the faint splash of water as she wiped away the filth from her ordeal.

I hesitated, knowing she wouldn’t like the answer. “The labyrinth.”

The splashing ceased.

“Is that your plan, then?” she asked. “That I hide in the tunnels with the sluag for the rest of my days? Because that isn’t precisely the standard of comfort I’m used to.” She laughed at her own joke, but it was high-pitched and strange.