Sure enough, a shadow passed one of the narrow windows. Clever. But not clever enough.

Smiling, I walked down to the edge of the sand and built an invisible bridge of my own over to the tiny island.

It was harder to hide oneself in the brilliant sunlight of midday, but only someone watching carefully would see the distortion in the air caused by my illusion as it crossed over the water. And the ruckus Roland was causing as he searched for me was a substantial distraction.

Swiftly across the bridge. Up onto the rocks. The rotten wooden door at the base was slightly ajar, but one gentle touch…

The island and everything on it disappeared in a pillar of white-hot heat that seemed to stretch up to the sun itself.

Stepping back into the shadows of the forest, I knelt down. And I waited for them to come ensure that I was dead.

Moments later a hooded figure stepped out of the trees, arms crossed beneath the cloak that dangled to his heels. Part of me wanted to see the Duke’s face – for him to know it was me who had ended him. But enough was at risk without theatrics, and vengeance was vengeance.

Magic honed as sharp as a razor flew from my hand, blood spraying as it sliced the Duke’s neck in two. The hooded head toppled even as the body slumped to the ground, rolling end over end until it stopped next to my feet, face up.

It wasn’t Angoulême.

Which meant he was still in control of my brother. And there was one very easy way for him to test as to whether I was still alive.

Swearing, I threw all the magic I had toward the ocean, and prayed it would be enough.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Cécile

Dismay echoed from the lips of everyone on the tower, followed by a collective sigh of relief as the skiffs were caught just above the waterline, visible fingers of magic grasping and clawing at the wood to keep them upright and steady.

Marc swore. “That has to be Tristan holding them, but it isn’t sustainable.”

There was no missing what he meant. What had been a straight and steady bridge over the water was now little more than a floating dock, waves pummeling both magic and skiffs, sending them swaying back and forth.

Chris rounded on Melusina, who remained perched on the edge of the tower. “Will you take me closer?” She ruffled her wings and then dropped a shoulder for him to climb on, barely waiting for him to hook his feet into the ropes before taking off.

The door slammed open and Tips clattered out on his crutch. “Are you seeing this?” he asked, his eyes widening at the sight of me.

“Can you hold the wall?” Marc demanded.