It had been foolish to hope, even for a minute. And even with this great revelation, this great possibly that Cécile had unearthed, nothing had changed. I had to kill my brother. A child, who, though he might be a monster, was also very much a victim of his family’s failure to protect him. How different would he have been if we had kept him, if I’d made more of an effort to see him, to teach him to control his proclivities? Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference. But maybe it would’ve changed everything.

I scrubbed a hand through my hair, thinking. Our plan to capture Angoulême and use him to lure Roland to a place of our choosing had been predicated upon Roland being in Trollus, which I was certain neither of them had any desire to destroy. But if we pushed the Duke too hard with Roland in one of the human cities, he might have the boy raze it out of spite.

Think.

Think.

But as hard as I bent my mind to a strategy that would stop Roland with the fewest casualties, it kept twisting its way back to finding a way to subdue him. If I could just keep him in check long enough for Cécile to find a way to send him back to Arcadia…

You don’t even know if there is such a way.

How many lives will you risk to keep your conscience clear?

I swore, curbing the desire to drop the magic around the Duke and beat him to death just to ease some of the tension singing through me. “If Roland had attacked either Trianon or Courville, Marc would have signaled for assistance.”

“You think he was bluffing?” Cécile asked.

I shook my head. “No, of a certainty, Roland is in one of the cities. But I do not think Angoulême’s ordered him to attack just yet.”

Cécile’s brow furrowed, but then she nodded. “He’s keeping that card up his sleeve; we harm him, he sends Roland on a killing spree.”

“Likely,” I agreed. “But also, all setting Roland loose on one of the cities would accomplish is drawing me out to confront my brother, which would put his puppet king at risk. I think he’s keeping to his original plan.”

“Building an army,” Cécile said. “Stacking his cards, so that when it comes time for him to make his move, he can be assured of victory.”

“Which we are going to let him do,” I said, watching as Cécile’s eyes widened. “As it buys us time.” My attention drifted to the twins, neither of whom seemed to be listening. Vincent was staring off into the distance, and Victoria was watching her brother with a jaw so tight her teeth were likely in danger of cracking.

“What’s wrong?” I demanded. “Victoria?”