Before she could sputter a reaction, she saw a dark shadow flying toward her. She dropped the box and ducked, and it narrowly missed her head before sweeping out into the hallway.
“Saint!” she whispered, her eyes following the falcon.
Prince Rennar motioned to Duke Karolinge, who was somberly eating sugared plums at a table by himself. But Luc signaled her to catch her attention, then surreptitiously pointed to a cage sitting on a chair two tables away. It held a small white cat that was hissing at anyone who dared come close; not far from the table was another cage that held a muzzled wolf.
“Cricket!” Anouk gasped. “And Hunter Black!”
She pushed her way through the crowd. Music and laughter deafened her.
Women wore gowns of gold and silk that fanned out wide, blocking her path. She bumped into a Pretty servant carrying a tray of champagne. She pushed her way between the two princesses of the Crimson Court only to find herself stumbling into a clear area surrounded by the crowd. In the middle of it were two acrobats suspended by silken ropes that hung in midair, not attached to anything. One of them gracefully slid down the rope and threw his weight backward, which made the rope arch toward Anouk. He grinned and reached out for her.
She shrieked and dived back into the crowd.
After a few minutes of fighting her way through dancing couples, she managed to get to the banquet table. She grabbed the cage and dragged it close. “Cricket. Oh, Cricket. You poor thing.” The cat inside was hunched on a velvet cushion that she’d shredded with her claws until it was nothing more than stuffing and threads. “I’ll turn you back, I promise. I’ll find a way.”
The cat’s green eyes looked at her in disdain. Just a cat. Not her friend. Though the flick of the cat’s tail did remind her a little of Cricket when she was pissed off.
“Can’t we let her out of the cage?” Anouk whispered to Luc. He was disguised as a Royal, and she was careful not to look directly at him. The crowd was impatient enough with Rennar’s fondness for her; they’d never tolerate another beastie at their tables.
He picked up his water glass, pretended to take a sip, and whispered from the side of his mouth, “We tried. She ran away and hid in the vents and ate half the Goblins’ pet rats. There was a mass funeral. Better to keep her here, where at least we know where she is.”
Anouk stroked the cat through the bars with one finger. She glanced around the room at the partygoers. “Have you found out anything else about the Noirceur?”
“Not yet. I still have half the Duke’s books to read through.”
She remembered her vision and that uncanny feeling that maybe the Noirceur and the Dark Thing were one and the same, but before she could mention it, Luc said in an odd tone, “I’ve heard some disturbing rumors.”
Anouk’s eyebrows rose. “What rumors?”
His eyes skimmed over the room, his expression hooded. “A few days ago I was in the stairwell headed to the roof. The Minaret Court was ahead of me. They didn’t know I was just one flight below them. They were gossiping about a traitor. Someone among the Royals who helped make the Court of Isles disappear.”
Anouk tried to keep her face still. “Who?”
“They didn’t mention the name.” He paused. “I did overhear one of them say, ‘What do you expect from a boy who shares a roof with witches?’ ”
She frowned as she considered this. It was clearly a male and clearly someone who had a close relationship with a witch. Her expression turned dark. “Viggo?”
Luc shook his head. “He wouldn’t. I know him better than that.”
“He isn’t one of us,” Anouk countered, though it made her sick to think about. Viggo was many things, most of them awful, but nevertheless, in the past few weeks he’d become dear to her.
Luc hesitated. “It sounds like a witch’s boy, but it could also be a man who enjoys the company of witches. Someone who was once betrothed to one. Someone who, even at hundreds of years old, would still be considered a boy by the older Royals.”
She leveled a look at him. “You mean Rennar.”
He didn’t deny it.
“You have to find out,” she whispered urgently.
“There’s a princess from the Minaret Court who . . . fancies me. I’ve danced with her, but she hasn’t let anything slip yet. I suspect I’ll have more luck as your wedding celebrations continue and the wine keeps flowing.”
“There you are!” A black-haired princess sidled up to Luc with a grin and rested her hand on his arm. “You’re drinking plain water? How positively monastic of you. Come, let me introduce you to the rest of the Minaret Court.”
Anouk pretended not to know Luc as the princess dragged him away. She turned back to her caged friends. In addition to putting the muzzle on the wolf’s mouth, someone had fastened iron chains to his feet.
“Oh, Hunter Black. Poor thing. I take it from those chains that you’ve been a handful.”
Viggo caught her words as he sauntered over. “Wolf or human, it’s still Hunter Black. Still an irritable bastard.” He patted the top of the cage affectionately. “Rennar insists on keeping him muzzled. There were some accidents . . .” He trailed off. “But naturally he’s tame with me.” Viggo reached through the bars, unbuckled the muzzle, and offered the wolf a turkey leg, but the wolf snapped at his fingers.
“Ow!” He clutched his thumb.
“Yes, he obviously adores you,” Anouk said dryly. She wondered how much Viggo knew about Hunter Black’s true feelings. After the siege of Montélimar, Hunter Black had confessed to Anouk that he was in love with Viggo, and Anouk felt certain Viggo knew it, even if it had never been spoken of between them.
Saint flew overhead and her thoughts circled back to the Coal Baths. Her heart faltered, and she was overcome by the memory of flames and failure. Her legs went weak and she collapsed in a chair. She touched the melted bell around her neck. What a fool. Her mood turned bleak until she felt a presence at her back and turned. Rennar stood with that arrogant expression on his face. He set the box she had dropped on the table.
“What’s this pretty thing?” Viggo said, plucking at the silk spilling out.
Anouk shoved the box away. “Nothing. Rennar, change the cat and the wolf back. I can’t bear to see them like this.” She lowered her voice. “You said we were past games.”
He glanced at the caged animals with little sympathy. “Perhaps I decided to take the game more seriously after I expended every ounce of social capital I had on saving you from the flames.” He motioned to the insanely elaborate party. “But you can still have Cricket. The deal was that I free her and turn her human in exchange for you marrying me.”
“So if I go through with this wedding, you’ll hold up your end of the deal? You’ll turn her back?”
He nodded once.
In a whisper, she said, “We have to agree it will be a strictly political union. That means no romantic entanglements. No wedding night, no ripping each other’s clothes off, no more stolen kisses. After we invoke the Nochte Pax, we’ll be free to fall in love with whoever we want outside of the marriage.”
“Those are rather chaste rules.”
“Do you want a princess or don’t you?”
“Touché.” He handed her a glass of wine. “I don’t like it, but I’ll agree to your terms.” He poured a glass for Viggo too and then motioned with his own glass across the ballroom to the tables where the Lunar and Crimson Courts sat. Prince Aleksi was leaning over his father, a hand on his shoulder as he coughed. Like all the Royals, King Kaspar must have been hundreds of years old, but unlike the others, he actually looked his age. He coughed harder.
Rennar said, “Prince Aleksi and Queen Violante are the only ones on our side, at least for the time being. The Lunar Prince and I have never gotten along, but his father’s illness has put our feud on hold. He’s here because he doesn’t know how else to help his father. And the Crimson Queen . . . Well, as I said, we have a history. The two of them will make certain that the rest of the Royals fall in line with our Nochte Pax invocation.”
King Kaspar doubled over, pushing his son away to keep him from ministering to him. His sleek black crown slid down his head. A team of acrobats took to the center of the ballroom in beautiful blue costumes that were enchanted so they’d change color with every somersault and tumble, and Anouk lost sight of the Lunar Court.
She sighed. “I suppose the show must go on, then.”
Rennar raised his glass. “To the future princess of the Parisian Court.”
Viggo gave Anouk a doubting look, but when she shrugged and picked up her glass, he did the same.
“To me,” she said.
They all clinked glasses.
The sound rang out like a bell and she flinched.
As soon as she pressed the glass to her lips, a commotion came from the hall. The music stopped. A dog came charging in, followed by Petra, who was wearing sunglasses and the most fabulous coat Anouk had ever seen, charcoal-black wool with gold embroidery that caught the light and looked like live coals. Anouk wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t enchanted to be actually smoldering.
“Have room for a couple of late arrivals?”
Little Beau ran to Anouk, and she dropped to her knees and pulled him into a hug. The smile vanished from Rennar’s face. He muttered something about fleas and drained his glass of wine.
“Oh, I missed you, sweet fellow!” Anouk cupped the dog’s face and kissed his snout. She looked up at Petra. “Thank you for watching out for him. I guess . . . I guess you couldn’t make him human?”
“Sorry. That spell is beyond my ability.” Petra was already pouring herself some wine. She looked different, and it wasn’t just the beautiful coat. Once she’d made it through the blue flames, it had been impossible not to notice her smooth skin and her lustrous red hair, even though she’d been naked and dusted in soot. Anouk touched the gold studs on the coat’s shoulders and gave Petra a questioning look.
“It’s a Faustine original,” Petra said.
“I wondered.” Anouk felt a stab of loss at the thought of her own Faustine jacket, which she’d left at the Cottage.
“Speaking of which . . .” Petra reached into a black leather handbag draped over one arm. Though it was a small bag, she whispered and drew out of it a silk jacket. Anouk gasped.
“My jacket!”
“It was in Little Beau’s stall. He clawed up some of the embroidery. I can whisper it fixed for you, but personally, I like the distressed effect.”
Anouk ran her hand down the jacket lovingly. Beau had clawed through the creature’s widespread wings. Multicolored threads hung loose and dangled like fringe. She pressed her face into it, breathing deep. For a second, she felt hopeful. She’d gotten her jacket back. Maybe there was some way she could regain magic too.
Petra’s long lashes blinked lazily behind champagne-colored sunglasses. “You missed the Witchery Feast. Jolie and Sam and Karla and Lise were there. Since Rennar put the coals out, we couldn’t continue with the trials. I think the girls were secretly relieved. The Minaret Court and the Barren Court both wanted me in their region—you should have seen them clamor! The things they offered me—estates, cars, servants, horses.” She tossed back some wine and sighed contentedly. “Naturally I told them to go stuff themselves. My loyalty is with Paris. Montélimar is the closest thing I have to a home. So I cast a whisper, took Little Beau, and stole one of the Crimson Court’s cars.”
“I suppose congratulations are in order,” Viggo said, tossing back his black hair. “It doesn’t feel like so long ago that you and I were playing chase in the lavender fields. And now look at you, so different, so . . .”
“Not a little boy anymore?” Petra gave him a droll look.
“I was going to say how powerful you look.”
“Sure you were. Now, are we ignoring the fact that a coven of insane witches have awoken an ancient dark magic, or are we coming up with a plan?”
“Wedding first,” Rennar said. “Plan after.”
Petra raised her glass again. “So we have a few final days of revelry before we’re all destroyed. Great.” Her eyes fell on Anouk and she got up and pulled her by the wrist to the privacy of the next table, where she leaned in close. “Are you okay?”
Anouk squeezed her jacket and looked away. “You saw what happened at the Baths.”
“You’re alive, that’s all that matters.” She saw the melted bell around Anouk’s neck and grimaced. “You really want to hold on to a failed crux? I didn’t think you were that morbid.”
Anouk gave a bitter laugh, clutching the bell. “If I ever get a second chance, I have to start by understanding where I went wrong before.” Then she dropped her hand and peered closely at Petra. “How did you know what your crux was? What did you do differently?”
Petra held out her hands and shrugged. “I haven’t a clue. Ten girls who were all clever and deserving. Ten girls who all wanted it as bad as I did. You all seemed somehow complete to me. I don’t know if that makes sense. Even Frederika, crazy as she was, seemed true to herself. It was like you all belonged there, at the Cottage. I always felt like an impostor, in a way, like I never belonged anywhere. Maybe that’s what happens when you’re abducted by a witch as a baby. It didn’t really bother me—I accepted that feeling a long time ago—but I’d have thought one of you would have chosen the right crux, not me.” Petra pressed a quick kiss onto the top of Anouk’s head. “For what it’s worth, you would have made a great witch. Maybe you’ll get a second chance.” And then she grabbed Viggo’s hand and pulled him toward the dance floor.
Anouk sank back into her chair and rubbed her temples. The wine was already going to her head. She took another sip and a few drops sloshed onto the wedding dress on the table. “Oh, merde.”
Rennar took the chair next to her, picked up the dress, and, with a gentle whisper, made the stain vanish.
“Why must you be so infuriatingly calm about all of this?” she snapped, and she wasn’t talking about the dress. “You heard Petra—we’re facing ruin and you just dance and drink!”
He swirled the wine in his glass and looked moodily into the liquid. “I’ve been alive five hundred years, Anouk. This isn’t the first time someone has shrieked about impending doom.”
“It’s the first time someone cut you in half.” Her eyes fell on the glossy mark where he’d repaired himself after being cut in two. “I don’t buy this nonchalant act of yours. You’re frightened. You’ve just never learned how to look afraid.”
He flinched. He set down the glass and took her hands in his. For once, the arrogance was gone from his face, and his blue eyes searched hers. “Very well. You want me to tell you that for the first time, I’m uncertain about the future? I am. But I’m certain about you.”
He kissed her knuckles. She bristled at the intimate gesture, then relaxed. Maybe they were in this together. Maybe his centuries of experience did count for something. He let go of her hands, but on impulse, she grabbed his hands and pulled him even closer.
He looked surprised.
She whispered, “Rennar, turn them back. Please.”
His hands tightened in hers. His features were just as tense. “You’ll get Cricket in a few days, after the wedding.”
“What about Hunter Black and Beau? Forget the deal. It was just a game, like you said. I failed the Baths—that doesn’t mean Hunter Black should be doomed to a lifetime of being muzzled. And Beau was always supposed to stay human, not me.”
“Beau,” he said slowly, “is in love with you. And I am marrying you. Only a fool would bring him back. At a minimum, he’d stop the wedding. He’d probably try to poison me.”
She couldn’t argue with that.
But Rennar had been grumbling with the reluctance of someone who hated to concede but knew he was going to. He filled her glass with champagne. “You’re impossible. Drink this.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Why?”
“Because I’m going to turn Hunter Black back for you, purely out of the goodness of my heart, and the least you can do is make a toast to my honor.”
A smile crept onto her face. It felt good to smile again. She clinked her glass against his and downed the champagne in one heady sip. As the bubbly warmth spread through her, making her the slightest bit tipsy, she thought back to the kiss in the Cottage’s confectionery. Before she knew what she was doing, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek.
“To you,” she said softly.