“And if something happens to Cécile? I…” Breaking off, I chewed on the insides of my cheeks, thinking of how the Regent would be alive if I hadn’t gone running her direction. If I’d kept my head. “It’s easy to stand here now and say that I wouldn’t go to her the moment she was hurt or afraid, but history has proven otherwise. It’s my weakness, and this… this is a solution.”

Sunlight fell upon her face, turning her skin golden. Her lips parted in mute appeal, then she shook her head and let go of my wrist.

I wished she’d argued with me harder.

Plucking up one of the seeds, I stared into its swirling depths. And before I could lose my nerve, I swallowed it whole.

Chapter Seventeen

Cécile

I kept my head down, doing my best not to think about how our fates were reliant on the success of a single prank even as I balanced the tray containing the means of its delivery.

“It’ll work,” Victoria had insisted. “We pulled it on Tristan once, and his mouth was stained purple for the better part of the day.”

“Would’ve been longer, but he insisted on washing his own mouth out with soap.” Vincent had smiled. “So vain. Would’ve been better if it had been Anaïs, though.”

“I’m not sure you would’ve survived if it had,” Marc had said. Then he’d sighed. “But it did work. And using the ploy eliminates much of the risk, so best we find ourselves some sugar.”

And so I found myself approaching the rear door of the tavern, not with a weapon, but with two desserts.

“What’s this?” One of the guards stepped into my path.

“Confections for His Highness,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t notice the trembling of the tray. “We heard he was partial to sweets.”

The guard leaned closer, and it was a struggle not to recoil from the sourness of his breath. “How do we know it’s not poison?”

I wanted to retort that it wouldn’t matter if it was, but instead I handed him the decoy. “Spun sugar and cherry cordial.”

He held it up to the light, then bit off a piece of the sugar lattice work, the candy crunching beneath his teeth.

“Avenge me if I drop dead,” he declared to his fellows, then bit into the globe. Cherry cordial poured out of his mouth and down his chin. “S’good,” he said, wiping his lips with the back of his grimy hand, then licking the cordial off. “I’ll take another.”

I stepped back. “I’ve heard His Highness handles disappointment poorly. And already it’s a shame there isn’t one for his female companion.”