Lou was keeping secrets again.

I forced myself to focus, to listen as Deveraux pulled the handle, and the board began to move. With each soft whisk, I counted its rotation, established its speed, visualized the location of Lou’s body in relation to each spin. I’d been nervous throwing this sword at my mother the first time, but I’d known trust was critical to success. I had to trust her, and she had to trust me.

We never missed.

Now—standing before Lou—I visualized the point above her head. Just a few scant inches of wood. Five, to be precise. There was no room for error. Taking a deep breath, I waited. I waited.

I let my sword fly.

The audience gasped, and the sound of sword striking board vibrated in my bones. I tore off my blindfold.

Chest heaving, mouth parted, Lou stared back at me with wide eyes. The sword had lodged not atop her head, but beside it—so close it’d drawn a thin line of blood on her cheek. One of her moth wings fluttered to the stage, severed, as she slowed to a stop. The audience cheered wildly. Their shouts, their praise, their laughter—it made little sense to me.

I’d missed.

And Lou was keeping secrets again.

She Loves Me Not

Lou

When the last villagers retreated to their homes, bleary-eyed and stumbling, Claud Deveraux broke out the Boisa?né to celebrate our reunion. “We should dance,” I murmured, dropping my head to Reid’s shoulder. He rested his cheek on my hair. Together, we sat on the amber wagon’s steps, huddled beneath a patchwork quilt, and watched as Coco and Ansel joined hands with Zenna and Toulouse. They staggered round and round in a frenzied circle to Deveraux’s mandolin. Each tried and failed to remember the lyrics to “Big Titty Liddy.” With every bottle of wine at their feet, their laughter grew louder, and their song grew stupider.

I wanted to join them.

When I yawned, however—my eyelids impossibly heavy from exhaustion and wine—Reid brushed a kiss to my temple. “You’re exhausted.”

“They’re butchering Liddy’s song.”

“You butcher Liddy’s song.”

“Excuse me?” I leaned forward, turning to glare at him. A smile still tugged at my lips. “Thank you very much, but my enthusiasm is everything.”

“Except a full vocal range.”

Delighted, I widened my eyes in mock outrage. “All right, then. Fine. Let’s hear your full vocal range.” When he said nothing—only smirked—I poked him in the ribs. “Go on. Show me how it’s done, O Melodious One. The plebeians await your instruction.”

Sighing, he rolled his eyes and scooted away from my finger. “Forget it, Lou. I’m not singing.”

“Oh no!” I followed like a plague, poking and prodding every inch of him I could reach. He dodged my attempts, however, and surged to his feet. I bounded to the top step in response, leaning forward until we were nearly nose to nose. The blanket fell to the ground, forgotten. “I’m prepared for shock and awe here, Chass. Your voice had better hypnotize snakes and charm the pants from virgins. It’d better be the love child of Jesus and—”

His kiss swallowed the rest of my words. When we broke apart, he murmured, “I have no interest in charming the pants from virgins.”

Smirking, I wound my arms around his neck. He hadn’t mentioned our spat onstage or the black fox that slept in our wagon. I hadn’t mentioned the cut on my cheek or that said fox’s name was Brigitte. “Not even Ansel?” I asked.

After our performance, Coco and Ansel had cornered me, asking how Reid had received the news of his siblings’ murders. My ensuing silence had exasperated them. Their ensuing silence had exasperated me. It wasn’t that I—that I didn’t want to tell Reid the whole truth, but what purpose would it serve? He didn’t know Etienne and Gabrielle. Why should he mourn them? Why should he take responsibility for their deaths? And he would take responsibility. Of that much, I was certain. If he knew my mother had started targeting his individual siblings, his focus would shift to protecting them instead of defeating Morgane—an illogical strategy, as her death was the only way of ensuring their safety.

No, this wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t lied to him. This was just . . . a secret.

Everyone had secrets.

Reid shook his head. “Ansel isn’t really my type.”

“No?” I pressed closer, the word a breath against his lips, and he climbed the steps slowly, backing me against the wagon door. His hands braced on either side of my face. Caging me there. “What is your type?”

He trailed his nose along my shoulder. “I love girls who can’t sing.”

Scoffing, I planted my hands on his chest and shoved. “You ass.”

“What?” he asked innocently, stumbling backward, nearly busting said ass in the snow. “It’s the truth. When your voice cracks on a high note, it gets me—”

“BIG WILLY BILLY TALKED SORT OF SILLY,” I bellowed, thrusting a hand on each hip. I stalked toward him, trying and failing to repress my laughter. “BUT HIS KNOB WAS AS LONG AS HIS ARM.” When he spluttered, glancing behind toward the others, I said loudly, “Is this what you like, Chass? Does this make you hot?”

The revelry behind us ceased at my words. Every eye fell upon us.

A flush crept up Reid’s cheeks, and he lifted a placating hand. “All right, Lou. You’ve made your point—”

“ITS SHAPE DOWN HIS THIGH SOON CAUGHT LIDDY’S EYE—”

“Lou.” Darting forward when Madame Labelle giggled, he attempted to cover my mouth, but I danced out of reach, looping elbows with Beau and spinning wildly.

“—AND IN NINE MONTHS, A NIPPER WAS BORN!” Over my shoulder, I called, “Did you hear that, Reid? A nipper. Because sex—”

Deveraux clapped his hands together and cackled. “Excellent, excellent! I knew Liddy, you know, and a lovelier creature I will never again meet. Such a vivacious spirit. She would have quite enjoyed knowing she is now beloved by the entire kingdom.”

“Wait.” I pivoted toward Deveraux, dragging Beau with me as I went. “Big Titty Liddy was a real person?”

“And you knew her?” Beau asked incredulously.

“Of course she was. And young William. It’s an unfortunate fact the two didn’t remain together after the birth of their dear daughter, but such is the nature of relationships nourished solely by appetites of passion.”

Reid and I exchanged a glance.

We both looked away quickly.

And that is when I saw Coco and Ansel slipping away together.

Unfortunately, Beau saw it too. Scoffing, he shook his head and marched back to the campfire, bending low to snag a bottle of wine as he went. Reid stared after him with an inscrutable expression. As for me, I tried to discern Coco’s and Ansel’s silhouettes across the field, where they stood near a stream on the edge of the forest. They looked . . . close. Suspiciously close. Alarmingly close.

Deveraux interrupted my furtive observation. “You fear for your friend’s heart.”

“I—what?” I tore my gaze from them. “What are you talking about?”

“Your friend.” Sagely, he nodded to Ansel. “La jeunesse éternelle. He will remain eternally young. There are some who do not appreciate such innocence in a man.”

“There are some who are stupid,” I said, craning my neck to watch as Ansel—

My eyes widened.

Oh my god.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

They were kissing. They were kissing. Coco had—she’d leaned in, and Ansel—he was actually doing it. He was playing the game, making his move. I inched closer, pride and fear swelling within me in equal measure.

Deveraux smirked and arched a brow. “Obviously, there are also some who do appreciate it.”

Reid dragged me back to his side. “It’s none of our business.”

I cast him an incredulous look. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No—”

But I didn’t listen to the rest of his reprimand. Shaking off his hand, I slipped around the wagons. Perhaps it was the wine that compelled me, or perhaps it was the way Coco held herself—stiff and awkward—like . . . like she . . .

Like she was kissing her kid brother. Shit.

She withdrew for one second, two, three, before leaning in to try again.

I crept around the stage, hiding within its shadows, close enough to hear her murmur for him to stop. Shaking her head, she wrapped her arms around her waist as if trying to make herself as small as possible. As if trying to disappear. “Ansel, please.” She struggled to look at him. “Don’t cry. This isn’t—I didn’t mean—”

Shit, shit, shit.

I pressed closer to the stage, straining to hear her whispered explanation. When a hand touched my back, I nearly leapt out of my skin. Reid crouched behind me, radiating disapproval. “I’m serious, Lou,” he repeated, voice low. “This is their business, not ours.”

“Speak for yourself.” Peeking back around the corner of the stage, I watched as Ansel wiped a tear from his cheek. My heart twisted. “Those are my best friends out there. If things get messy between them, I’m the one who’ll have to clean it up. It is absolutely my business.”