Both of them were banking on my refusal to harm my brother. Cécile had heard Angoulême say as much, and even if she hadn’t, the fact that the Duke was allowing his puppet prince to roam in plain view made it abundantly clear. If he truly believed Roland was at risk from me, he’d be taking more care. And my father? I toyed with the cuff of my sleeve, wishing I had any such certainty about his strategy. He had the capacity to stop Roland, but he hadn’t done so. He had the ability to pull Trianon out from under me, but hadn’t so much as stirred from Trollus. And the Winter Queen? I scrubbed a hand across my eyes, the questions Cécile had raised making me wonder if her actions were part of a larger game than I realized.

“Your Highness?” I heard one of the advisors speak, but I ignored him. This was as complex a game of Guerre as I had ever played, but there was far more at stake than tiny gold figurines. People were dying as I sat safely behind castle walls trying to unpack the plots of a multi-headed enemy, and I knew that if I sat here another month I still might not understand every motivation, every plan. And even if I did, at that point, would there be anything left to save?

I stood up, the humans flinching and Marc squaring his shoulders, seeming to sense my plan of action before I’d uttered a word.

“My brother cannot be allowed to continue unchecked,” I said. “Ready your ship, Captain. We move against him tonight.”

Chapter Thirteen

Cécile

“You should rest,” I said to Lady Marie as I entered the cell, holding up my hands to the brazier. I’d expected her to put her son in a sumptuous suite of rooms, but even in her grief, Marie was pragmatic. The dungeons, dank from the river that ran to either side of the castle, were rarely used (as far as I knew) since the construction of the Bastille, but they had been maintained, the iron bars on the windowless cells strong and secure. The heavy stone assured no sound would pass into the upper levels, and the singular entrance made it easy for the trolls to keep anyone unwanted out. Most importantly, in my mind, should Aiden become unmanageable, then the dungeon would serve its intended purpose.

She shifted on the stool next to the cot on which Aiden lay, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Do you truly believe I’m going to leave my son alone with you, witch?”

She said “witch”, but I heard another word. Judging from the scowl that appeared on Vincent’s face, he heard the same. I gave a slight shake of my head. “What precisely do you think I’ll do to him?”

Marie’s jaw tightened and she turned bloodshot eyes on me.