And he’d killed her. Not because of anything she’d done, but to put an end to his father. To take the throne.

My mind was awash with Tristan’s emotion, and I shook my head to clear it as I approached. Sylvie hung limply from her twin’s back, but she was alive. For how long, I could not guess. Touching the knife at my waist, I silently contemplated whether it would be possible to separate the two, and if it was, whether I had the mettle to do it.

“No.”

I jumped at the coldness in her voice.

“Banish the idea from your thoughts,” she said. “Then come and hear me out before I breathe my last.”

I knelt next to her, desperate to find Tristan and get him free of Trollus before Roland found him. We could hide, or find a ship that would take us to the continent. Run and live while everyone else suffers for your mistakes.

“Thibault is dead,” she whispered, and I watched in disbelief as a tear trickled down her cheek.

“You do not know that for sure,” I said, taking her hand. “He’s strong, it’s possible that–”

“No,” she said. “It isn’t.” The air surrounding the hand I held shifted, illusion falling away to reveal blackened bonding marks. “When Thibault and Matilde were bonded, something unexpected happened. We kept it a secret, but the time for that is over.”

“I thought you hated him,” I said. “That you were helping Tristan with his plot to kill his father.”

“I did.” She smiled. “And I was. I’ve hated Thibault since he destroyed our plans over Lessa’s fool of a mother. Fought against his decision to bond my sister and made his life a living hell every day since. But over Tristan, we were united. Allies against enemies who would’ve seen that boy dead a dozen times over and comrades in our efforts to mold him into the man he needed to be.”

Like the gardens around us, I could spend a lifetime amongst these creatures and never stop being surprised at their duplicity.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered before breaking into a ragged cough. “I know Thibault was cruel to his son and that you think me equally so for supporting him, but it was all to protect Tristan. Believing that Thibault was Tristan’s enemy stayed the hands of Angoulême and his followers, because they believed Thibault would kill Tristan himself before allowing a sympathizer to take the crown. It was the only way.”

She shuddered and I gripped her hand tight, knowing death would come to her in moments.

“But our methods left their scars on him,” she said. “And that I regret. Please tell him that he was loved by all his family. That he was all we hoped him to be and more. A true king.”