Anouk tilted her chin high. “Do you mean that? That power should change hands and you’ll do what you must to make that happen?”
“I swear it,” Rennar said.
She raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that a Royal would willingly give up power, but she would play along if it freed her from the townhouse. “I can’t help you like this. Trapped here, starving to death.”
“Shall I summon you a feast?”
She leveled a hard glare at him. “You need me because I can wield magic with no consequences. But look at me. Look at the scars. I used a mending spell for buttons to sew up this wound. That’s the best I can do.” She didn’t try to hide her arm this time. “Did you never wonder why I kept trying to leave? Why I kept fighting your crows?” Her eyes flashed. “I was going to the Cottage.”
“The Schwarzwald?” he scoffed. “That’s an awful idea.”
“It’s a place where Pretty girls go to become witches.”
“It’s a place where Pretty girls go to die. No, it’s impossible. I won’t allow it.”
Her pulse raced. She didn’t dare look at him for fear that his piercing gaze would see straight into her heart, see that, yes, she’d heard the stories, she knew the risks, and she was just as afraid as she should be.
“I need strong magic, Rennar. Witch magic. Without it, I can’t turn back Beau and Cricket and Luc and Hunter Black, and I can’t fight the Coven of Oxford.”
He scowled. “You’ve never been to the Cottage. I have. Royals from all the near realms travel there every wintertide to witness girls die in the Coal Baths.”
“I know about the Coal Baths.”
“You may have heard of them, but no stories match the reality. The ceremony lasts three days. There’s a feast the night before for the girls who are about to risk their lives, and then in the morning, we light the blue flames and observe as the acolytes enter, one by one. The odds are bleak. Most years, only one out of ten girls survives. Some years, none at all. The rest burn so completely that even their bones vanish. And do you know what we do while this is happening? We drink wine. We eat chocolate Bethmännchen. Because we’ve seen so many girls die, Anouk, it means nothing to us. The only time we care is when one survives, because then we can use her. Every realm wants the loyalty of a fresh witch.”
Anouk traced the stitching on her arm. It might have been rough, but it had done the job. “My chances are as good as anyone’s. Better. I can already do some tricks and whispers.”
He hesitated, then shook his head. “Magic won’t save you from the Coals. That isn’t how they work. Perhaps if you had years to study there, or even months. But wintertide is in six weeks. It’s impossible.”
“They said it was impossible for a beastie to cast spells. They said it was impossible to stand up to Mada Zola at Montélimar.” She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you need to reconsider your use of that word.”
He stepped as close to her as the protection spell allowed. “Come with me, Anouk. I’ll train you myself.” He held out his hand. The same one that had imprisoned her friends.
Her own hands curled at her sides. “No. It’s my turn to make you a deal. Give me my friends back. Call off your crows. Grant me safe passage to the Cottage. I’ll undergo the Baths and I’ll survive. Then, when I am a witch, I’ll help you with London.”
Slowly, he paced, barefoot, his marble foot scuffing against the stone step. “I am fond of deals,” he said at last, “but I’ll counter yours with my own. There are three beasties you care about in my possession, so I will make you three bargains. If Viggo and your Goblin guests come with me as collateral, I’ll free Luc and turn him human. If you become a witch and swear loyalty to my realm, I’ll free Hunter Black and turn him human. If you agree to become my princess, I’ll free Cricket.”
“And turn her human.”
“By then, you’ll be a witch. You’ll be powerful enough to turn her back yourself.”
Anouk narrowed her eyes, trying to find a trap in his words. “Why do you care if I’m your princess? We don’t need to be married to work together.”
His eyes flashed. “Royal weddings happen rarely. When one does, not only must all Courts send a delegation to attend, but they also are bound to grant the new couple a Nochte Pax—think of it as a wedding gift. If we’re going to achieve our goal, we’ll need the help of the other Royals. They won’t be able to refuse our Nochte Pax request.”
“A political arrangement, then.” She hesitated. “Nothing more?”
A heavy moment of silence hung between them.
Then his lips quirked in a half grin. “Let’s just say nothing more would be required, but everything is up for negotiation.”
“If you think you’d get as much as a kiss from me, you’re wrong. But a strictly political union—if it will force the Royals to help us—maybe.” She glanced at the front window, where the dog still had his nose against the glass. “And you wouldn’t try to stop me from turning Beau back if I become a witch?”
He grumbled in annoyance. “If you must.”
She hesitated. On the other side of the window, Viggo was shaking his head and mouthing something that looked like No, you idiot, whatever he’s offering, say no. But Viggo didn’t know that the Coven of Oxford had cut off London and were aiming for Paris next. Viggo hadn’t peered into the darkest corners of her heart, didn’t know how much she wanted—needed—witch magic.
Rennar looked at her intensely. “Well?”
She said quietly, “Okay.”
“Okay?” A glimpse of pleasant surprise crossed his face, but then that arrogant mask slipped back over it. He jerked his chin toward the mirror. “Keep that, then.”
“So you can spy on me?”
“Yes, exactly, and don’t act surprised. I need to know that you’re holding up your end of the bargain. I can see you through this mirror. I’ll know when you’ve made it to the Cottage. In return, you’ll be able to see that I am holding up my end. And if you get into trouble, you can use it to summon me.”
“Beg you for help? I’d sooner an elevator cut me in half.”
He flinched. “Don’t be foolish, Anouk. Take help when it’s offered. You think I’m your enemy, but I’m not.” He leaned as close as the protection spell would allow him. “Be careful. There is dark magic out there.”
Without another word, he strode down Rue des Amants, limping slightly. Anouk waited for him to disappear around the corner and then stuffed the mirror deep into her robe pocket, where the only thing he could spy on was lint.
“There’s dark magic,” she whispered after him, “everywhere.”
Viggo was waiting for her in the foyer, hands on his hips, scowl on his face. “You shouldn’t have said three words to him,” he scolded. “Not unless it was Va te faire foutre.”
“That’s four words.”
“Whatever.”
She dismissed his concern with a wave. Now that the deal had been made, a nervous energy was stirring in her chest. “He’s calling off the crows.”
Viggo raised a cautious eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
“It means I have a bag to pack.”
Before she could witness the dawning look of alarm on Viggo’s face, she ran for the stairs, Little Beau following at her heels. She took the steps two at a time. Little Beau sensed her excitement and barked as he ran after her. There was the dull thud of Viggo’s cane far behind. What did she know about the Black Forest? Only what she’d been able to glean from the maps in the library and from Luc’s fairy tales: Castles hidden in glens. Trees as tall as city buildings. Wolves and stags and bears. Mad princes who drowned in lakes. None of Mada Vittora’s books described an ancient academy deep in the woods, a place where it always snowed, where girls wanted magic bad enough to die for it.
“Anouk, stop, for God’s sake!” Viggo called from the stairs. “Slow down—I’m impaired!”
She went to the library and pulled out the heavy stacks of maps. She laid them on the floor and traced the routes with her fingers, the trek from Paris to a remote corner of Germany that would involve trains and taxis and miles on foot. Little Beau wagged his tail, fluttering the maps, and some loose pages fell out. She caught one, a drawing that Luc had made of charcoal trees and swirling snow. It was a scene from one of his fairy tales, “The Frozen Labyrinth,” about a Goblin girl who had ignored her family’s warnings and trekked into the Black Forest after hearing rumors of a castle filled with candy.
“Goblins know better than to go to the Black Forest,” Luc had said. “There’s dark magic there. Ancient creatures who keep to themselves.”
“What kind of creatures?” Anouk asked.
“Creatures who like the cold, who especially like girls who wander into their woods. They can help travelers find their way, but they’ll want something in return. There’s a reason few girls ever make it to the Cottage. Whatever you do,” Luc warned, “don’t let them kiss you.”
Anouk made a face. “Why, what happens?”
“Nothing good.”
At the memory, Anouk bit her lip. If only Luc had finished the story, she might have some clue as to what she was getting herself into.
Huffing with effort, Viggo at last reached the library. “You can’t trust Rennar,” he protested, dabbing sweat off his brow with his shirtsleeve.
“We don’t have a choice.”
“And what am I supposed to do, stay here and babysit a houseful of Goblins?”
Her excitement dimmed. “Oh . . . right. Ah, I actually promised that you and the Goblins would stay at Castle Ides.”
“You bargained us away as hostages?”
“You’ve seen the Castle Ides kitchens! You’ll feast on suckling pig and petits fours every day! That’s hardly torture.”
She expected Viggo to sputter about how Rennar was the enemy, to stomp around in a fit of melodrama, but instead his face grew disturbingly calm. “There’s something I haven’t told you about the Schwarzwald.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Have you been there?”
“Yes, once, with Mada Vittora when I was a boy.” He shuddered at the memory. “The Cottage is a bleak place filled with desperate girls. Girls freeze to death just trying to find it. The ones who make it don’t have a much greater chance of survival. You’ve heard of the Coal Baths? They’re a mystical bed of coals so hot that most girls don’t even burn when they try to cross it—they just vanish. Only their screams remain. The year we went to observe the trials, all of the initiates burned. Not a single one got to the other side of the bed of coals. I had nightmares for months.”
Little Beau, at her feet, rested his chin on her knee. She set her hands on the dog’s head to keep them from shaking. “I’m no stranger to nightmares. Besides, I won’t be alone. I’ll take Little Beau with me.”
Viggo scoffed. “A dog won’t save you from the dangers in Bavaria.”
“I think you’re underestimating dogs.”
Outside, the last of the autumn leaves blew against the windows. Winter would be here soon. She stood up and peered out the window. A group of young Pretties stood at the corner, heads bowed over devices that cast an eerie electric glow over their faces. Drones whirred above them. Rennar was right; technology was spreading faster. If they didn’t do something to curb it, would magic disappear before she’d even had a chance to master it? With no magic, would the whole Haute vanish? And the beasties?
Cities falling one by one
White to Red
White to Red . . .
A cold nose pressed against her and she felt her tension melt away. She turned from the window and knelt down so she could gaze into Little Beau’s face. “Beau, are you in there?” she whispered.
Little Beau cocked his head and looked as though he might miraculously answer, but then he only scratched an itch on his side with his back leg.
Anouk sighed.
Viggo folded his arms testily across his chest. “If you and that dog have finished your heart-to-heart, do you mind sharing your decision?”
She hesitated.
“Tell me you aren’t going to go through with a deal with that imbécile, Anouk.”
“Um . . .”
“Tell me you aren’t complètement fou.”
“Well . . .”
He groaned toward the ceiling and muttered a curse that would have made even a witch blush. “You’re going to get yourself killed and leave me alone with the Goblins.”
That evening Anouk took a step back to examine the supplies she’d gathered on the bed. The maps. A hooded fur coat. A knife from the kitchen. Some hard cheese and sausage the Goblins hadn’t yet discovered. Most of it went into the pockets of her Faustine jacket. Once she was a witch, she would enchant the pockets to serve as her oubliette—her magic bag—but for now, they were simply pockets, and they bulged with the bulk of everything.
“You are going to say goodbye, aren’t you?” Viggo asked from behind her.
She turned. “To the Goblins? No, they say that goodbyes are bad luck. To you?” She smiled. “Of course.”
Viggo returned a half smile. Although they had lived in the same house and considered the same woman a mother, they’d never been friends. In a million years, she’d never imagined that she’d find a new sort of family with Viggo, and yet here they were. Her heart tightened. “You’ll look out for them?” she said, nodding toward the Goblins’ rock music coming from downstairs. “They’ll need someone at Castle Ides to keep them safe.”
“I should think I can babysit some Goblins. At least until you return.” He paused. “You are coming back.”
“I’m coming back,” she promised.
She wrapped her arms around him. His knit hat scratched her skin, but she didn’t mind. Viggo would always be like that hat of his—a little irritating, a little silly, but also a little endearing.
He gave her a curt but warm hug in return. “Watch out for the other girls at the Cottage. It isn’t a tra-la-la kind of place. Are you certain you can find it?”
She dug around in her pocket and eventually produced a small piece of carved antler with a broken tip. “I have this. It’s a piece of a clock that’s imbued with magic. Duke Karolinge gave this portion of it to Mada Vittora, who kept it hidden in a dresser drawer. I found it once while putting away her laundry. It’s made of antler from elk in the Black Forest, and the rest of the clock is still there, in the Cottage. If Beau is any good at being a dog, he’ll be able to track its scent back to the rest of the clock—to the Cottage.”
She slipped the piece of antler in her jacket pocket, next to Rennar’s mirror, which brushed against her fingers like ice.
“Good luck, Dust Bunny,” Viggo said.
“Stay alive, okay?” she answered. “And try not to do anything stupid.”
“Me? Never.”
They went downstairs. She opened the door. Little Beau followed at her heels, silent and loyal, as, for the first time in weeks, they both stepped beyond the protection spell and into the city.