“Clearly,” I said, wondering how well he was going to take the revelation of his son’s betrayal. “But no longer relevant. What matters now is the defense of Trianon.”

They stepped aside for me as I made my way back to the heavy door. Cécile was moving through the castle, her distress biting at my concentration. I wanted to talk to her, to find out what was going on in her head, but what I needed was to focus on discovering the plans of both my father and Angoulême. And Winter.

“What about those flying creatures? Will your dome keep them out?” Marie demanded, following me down the stairs.

Considering the fey could tear a path between worlds nearly anywhere they chose, I highly doubted it, but the question was good. She alone seemed to understand the urgency of the situation. “Only iron–” I broke off when a slice of fear lanced through me. Cécile.

“Iron?” she asked. “What of it?”

Where was she? Had my father’s minions reached us before I’d cut them off? Or Angoulême’s?

“Marie, be silent,” the Regent hissed. “He isn’t interested in listening to the questions of a woman.”

Pain.

I bolted down the last few stairs and across the room, passing Aiden-Fred as I ran. Only as my hands slammed against the door did it occur to me that his presence didn’t make sense. Fred had been up in the tower with us. Had been silently shadowing the Regent on the stairs. Which meant the man who’d just passed me wasn’t Cécile’s brother.

Marie screamed, and I turned around in time to see Aiden du Chastelier plunge the point of a sword through his father’s heart.

Chapter Three

Cécile

My first instinct was to dive out into the corridor, but sensing my intentions, Julian’s finger tightened on the trigger and I froze. No amount of luck would allow me to dodge a bullet at this range: I was no troll.

“Julian, don’t.” I forced as much power as I could into the command, but he only sneered and flicked the sprig of rowan pinned to his collar, the expression grotesque on his tear-stained face.

“Do you think I’d leave myself vulnerable to your tricks?”

I swallowed the bile rising from my stomach. “I’m sorry, Julian. If you knew the truth then you’d understand that I–”

“Shut. Up.” The words were barely louder than a whisper, but they silenced me more thoroughly than any shout.