Marc leaned back in his chair. “You have a more deft touch. Better for them to delight in their own charity than resent being ordered about.” His gaze shifted. “Zoé will watch over your son.”

“I’m not leaving Aiden in the care of one of you creatures.”

Both Zoé and Tips stiffened, but Marc raised a calming hand. “Zoé’s power is formidable. If Trianon is attacked, she is capable of taking Aiden to safety. Can you claim as much?”

Marie’s jaw tightened.

“My lady, your grievance is with King Thibault. Please don’t allow your hatred of him to color the rest of us with the same brush. We are not him, and even if we were, you have a duty to your people.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, then left the room.

“Fred,” Marc continued. “I need you to send men out to bring back what grain and supplies you can in order to keep the city fed.”

“I’m not leaving Trianon’s walls undefended,” Cécile’s brother said, glancing my direction.

“Tips and his half-bloods will hold the wall,” Marc replied. “With my help.”

“Not happening,” Fred said. “I’m not delegating the defense of the city to a bunch of miners and chambermaids, never mind that they might just decide to abandon their posts halfway through the battle.”

That comment, I was quite certain, was directed at me.

“Then don’t,” Tips snapped. “Try defending yourselves if Angoulême’s followers come calling, and see how long you last.”

“Enough,” Sabine said. “Fred, you wanted these people in the city, so it’s your responsibility to take care of them. And you, sir,” she glared at Tips, “don’t forget that you came here looking for salvation as much as any of them.”

There were glares all around, but eventually all departed but for Marc and Sabine. There was an unexpected level of comfort between the two, as though they’d engaged in far more conversation than I’d been privy to. “What would you have me do?” she asked him.

“You’re doing it,” he said. “We need to have a unified front if we are to have any hope of making it through this war. They need to see that they are on the same side, and I think you can make that happen.”

“He’s not helping the cause,” she said, coming over to stand in front of me. I handed her my empty plate and walked away.

“This isn’t him,” Marc said. “You know that. They all know that.”

“It is so him,” she said. “It’s just a him that isn’t tempered by empathy.”

My cousin didn’t argue.