Sylvie’s eyes lost focus, shifting back and forth as she delved into the problem, the expression eerily reminiscent of Tristan’s when he was deep in thought. “No,” she said. “He hasn’t. But he is about to make a mistake.”

The ground shook and I was flung against the corner of a stone bench. I fought the urge to curl up in pain, struggling instead to my feet. “Is it her? Is it Winter?” I gasped.

Magic lifted me up into the air. “Tell me what you see,” Sylvie ordered, lifting me higher and higher.

The air was filled with dust mixed with frost, and I coughed, covering my mouth with my sleeve as I peered toward the end of the valley. “There’s no one at the gate.” Other than the bodies of the guards.

She lowered me so swiftly, I might as well have fallen, my spine shuddering as my heels hit the ground. “Stay here,” she said; then to the Queen: “Matilde, find Thibault now. Hurry!”

In a blink, they were gone.

I stared in the direction they’d gone for another heartbeat, then I took off after them.

Keeping up with the troll queen was impossible, but she was heading toward the palace, so I took the shortest way I knew. There was probably nothing I could do to help, but Tristan was in there without any way to protect himself, whereas I still had magic. If Thibault or Matilde would lend their power, I suspected my spells would be just as affective against the Winter Queen as any troll.

“Mother?”

I skidded to a halt just shy of a bend in the hedgerows, my skin breaking out in a cold sweat at the sound of that familiar voice. Pressed my arm to my mouth to muffle my ragged breathing, I squatted down making myself as small as possible.

“Roland!” The Queen’s voice was serene and sweet.

“Matilde, no! Matilde!” The Duchesse screamed the warning, but it was too late. A cry of pain cut through my ears, then the rustle of silken skirts and a thud.

Tears streamed down my face, but I knew better than to move. If Roland saw me, I was dead and would be no help to anyone. But if I waited until he was gone, then there was a chance I could save Matilde and Sylvie.

“Cécile?”

I flinched at the Duchesse’s voice.

“There is no chance you stayed where I told you to, so you can come out now. Roland is gone.”

Mustering my courage, I peered around the corner. The Queen lay on her side, silver eyes blank and unseeing, blood pooling on the white stone beneath her. The hilt of a knife stuck out of her chest, the blade embedded in her heart. Without having seen it, I knew she’d reached for her son with open arms, innocent and unsuspecting.