“I don’t like this strategy,” I said, wrapping my arms around Tristan’s neck to steady my nerves. I was used to being on stage, but never before had lives depended on my performance. And we were trying to fool a master of duplicity. “I don’t trust Lessa – her only loyalty is to herself. Already she’s gone back on her word. They were supposed to remain in Trollus.”

“I don’t trust her, either,” Tristan responded. “But we know she likes to play both sides until she’s certain who will land on top. Angoulême was a fool to believe she’d be content under his control. Lessa isn’t Roland.”

“No, she isn’t,” I said. “At least Roland cares for you in his strange fashion. Lessa only sees you as a means to an end. Once we’ve cured Roland, she’ll try to kill you. Or me. Again.”

“Likely,” he said, his voice cheerful. “But we don’t really have a choice. As long as Roland remains surrounded by humans, I can’t take him by force without risking casualties. And frankly, I’m not sure I could subdue him without killing him. Your spell took the iron from Martin and fixed him – I want that chance for Roland. And if we can cure his madness, then there’s nothing to stop us from killing Angoulême.”

My stomach clenched at his admission, scripted though it was. Just because he wanted to save Roland didn’t mean it was part of our plan.

“What if it’s a trap?” I asked, readying myself to lie. “What if she hasn’t given Roland the potion? What if we get there and I try to work the spell to cure him, and nothing happens. We’ll be caught in a battle in the middle of Courville.”

“It’s possible,” Tristan admitted. “But from her own lips, she doesn’t want Roland to be King.”

This was the crux of our plan: to create doubt in Angoulême’s mind of Lessa’s loyalty, but not certainty that she’d switched sides, because all he’d do then was have Roland kill her.

“You’re going to have to give up something,” I said. “She’s not going to let us near Roland without concessions, and we only have so much time before the potion passes through his system. And once it’s gone, we aren’t going to get another chance.”

“The plan will work.” His voice took on a slightly irritated edge.

“Don’t get mad at me for worrying,” I snapped. “You were the one who was so confident that capturing Angoulême in the tombs would go off without a hitch and look what happened. Vincent’s a mindless shell, and Victoria’s a grieving mess.”

Silence.