“The Duke is coming. Go now, or all is lost.” Then he stepped up onto the podium, his magic forcibly shoving me through the illusion even as he addressed the crowd. “Good evening.”

I stumbled, hands catching me before I fell.

“Your father came in,” Tristan hissed. “I didn’t know what to say or do, then he told me the Duke was coming and that we need to go.”

“I can’t.” I jerked out of his grip. “If the Duke finds him here, he’ll be convicted of treason. Your father will have no choice but to execute him.”

And I could feel it. Powerful trolls converging on us from all sides, the Duke and all of his followers moving to catch the sympathizer leader in the act. “We need to get him out of there.”

I flung myself through the tunnel only to slam up against a barrier. Swearing, I twisted around to face Tristan. “Let me through.”

“It’s not my magic.”

Before he even said the words, I knew that it wasn’t. It was my father’s, and I hadn’t the strength to break it down. “Help me,” I demanded. “Stones and sky, Tristan. If you never do another thing for me, at least do this.”

Silence. Then he said, “All right.”

He pushed past me, then froze, and when I turned, it was to see a hooded figure standing at the base of the cellar stairs, several other similarly attired trolls lurking behind him.

“Well, well, my lord Comte,” the Duke d’Angoulême said, pushing back his hood. “I did not expect to find you standing here. Whatever will His Majesty think?”

Several half-bloods screamed, the mass of them pressing to the far side of the cellar as the Duke walked toward my father. One of the other hooded figures darted into the crowd, snatching hold of one of the half-bloods, who screamed as he was torn apart, the Comtesse Báthory’s familiar laugh cutting through the room.

“Do something,” I shouted at Tristan.

His magic surged, tearing down the barrier, but as he did, my father turned. “Run!”

Then the air filled with power, more than I’d known he’d possessed, and the ground shook with a resounding boom.

Chapter 25

Pénélope

I watched Marc depart for the meeting with the half-bloods with a heavy heart, hating that I’d been the one to cost him something that had mattered so much. Logically, I understood Tristan’s concerns – saw the need for the half-bloods to know who the true leader of the revolution was. What I did not understand was why Tristan seemed intent on driving Marc away when he was so integral to their plots. What we’d done didn’t seem to warrant the reaction.

But the more I thought on it, the more I realized that Tristan’s actions were as much a way to protect himself as they were to protect the sympathizer cause, if not more. Marc was like an older brother to him, and I thought, perhaps, that he was unconsciously pushing him away to insulate himself from what he saw as Marc’s imminent demise. There was only one way, as far as I could see, to undo the harm that had been done to their relationship, and that was for me to survive.