“I think it’s awfully romantic.” Violette tilted her head to study me in an eerie impression of Auguste. Whereas his gaze had been cold, however—calculating—hers was shyly curious. “Metua vahine said he sacrificed everything to save the girl he loves. She doesn’t like you much,” she added to me, “or your maman, but I think she respects you.”

“It’s not romantic. It’s stupid.” Victoire kicked the bar closest to me before turning to Beau. “How could you choose this son of a whore over us?”

“Don’t say that word,” Beau said sharply. “Don’t say it ever again.”

She ducked her head, glowering but chastised. “You left us, taeae. You didn’t tell us where you’d gone. We could’ve come with you. We could’ve fought the witches by your side.”

He lifted her chin with his finger. “Not all witches are bad, tuahine, tou. I found some good ones. I intend to help them.”

“But Papa said he’d disinherit you!” Violette interjected.

“Then I suppose you’ll be queen.”

Her eyes widened.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye,” Beau said softly, “but I’m not sorry I left. I have a chance to be part of something extraordinary. Together, all of us—humans, witches, werewolves, maybe even mermaids—we have a chance to change the world.”

Violette gasped. “Mermaids?”

“Oh, shut it, Violette.” Victoire snatched the keys from her and tossed them to Beau. “Do it.” She nodded to him curtly. “Break it. Make it better. And at the end of it—when you put the pieces back together—I want to be a huntsman.”

“Oh, me too!” Violette cried. “Except I want to wear a dress.”

Beau fumbled to unlock the cell. “Huntsmen will be part of the broken pieces, girls.”

“No.” Victoire shook her head. “Not a huntsman like they are now. We want to be huntsmen like they should be—proper knights, riding forth to vanquish the forces of evil. True evil.” She waved a hand at me—at the sick covering my front—as Beau slid the cell open. “Not whatever this is.”

I couldn’t help but grin.

To my surprise, she grinned back. Small. Hesitant. But still there. Emotion reared at the sight, and I stumbled at the strength of it. Violette wrapped an arm around my waist to steady me. To lead me down the corridor. “You stink, taeae. And proper knights don’t stink. How can you rescue your fair maiden if she can’t stand the smell of you?”

Fighting her own grin, Madame Labelle braced my other side. “Perhaps his fair maiden doesn’t need rescuing.”

“Perhaps she will rescue him,” Victoire called over her shoulder.

“Perhaps they will rescue each other,” Violette snapped back.

“Perhaps we will,” I murmured, feeling lighter than I’d felt in ages. Perhaps we could. Together. In a swift burst of realization, I saw things clearly for perhaps the first time: she wasn’t the only broken one. I’d closed my eyes to hide from the monsters—my monsters—hoping they couldn’t see me. Hoping if I buried them deep enough, they’d disappear.

But they hadn’t disappeared, and I’d hidden long enough.

Anxious now, I walked faster, ignored the pounding in my head. I had to find Lou. I had to find her, to talk to her—

Then several things happened at once.

The door flew open with a cataclysmic bang, and the four huntsmen charged back into the corridor. Madame Labelle yelled “RUN!” at the same time Victoire sliced through her binds. Chaos reigned. With the pulse of Madame Labelle’s hands, rock from the ceiling rained on the Chasseurs’ heads. A stone the size of my fists connected with one, and he collapsed. The others shouted in panic—in fury—trying to coordinate, to subdue her. Two tackled her while the third leapt in front of us. Shrieking a battle cry, Victoire stomped on his toes. When he reeled backward, swinging the blade of his Balisarda away from her, Violette punched him in the nose.

“Get out of here!” Victoire shoved him, and—already off balance—he tumbled to the floor. Beau cut his binds on her sword. “Before it’s too late!”

I struggled to reach Madame Labelle. “I can’t leave her—”

“GO!” Madame Labelle flung an arm out beneath the Chasseurs’ bodies, blasting the door apart. “NOW!”

Beau didn’t give me a choice. Flinging his arms around me, he dragged my weakened, useless body down the corridor. More footsteps pounded above us, but we took a sharp left down another corridor, disappearing within a half-concealed crag in the wall. “Hurry,” Beau said desperately, pulling me faster. “Mass has started, but the Chasseurs who remained in the castle will be here soon. They’ll search these tunnels. Come on, come on.”

“But my mother, our sisters—”

“Our sisters will be fine. He’ll never hurt them—”

Still I struggled. “And Madame Labelle?”

He didn’t hesitate, forcing me down another tunnel. “She can take care of herself.”

“NO—”

“Reid.” He spun me to face him, gripping my arms when I thrashed. His eyes were wide. Wild. “She made a choice, all right? She chose to save you. If you go back now, you won’t be helping her. You’ll be spiting her.” He shook me harder. “Live today, Reid, so you can fight tomorrow. We’ll get her back. If I have to burn down this castle myself, we will get her back. Do you trust me?”

I felt myself nod, felt him pull me along once more.

Behind us, her screams echoed in the distance.

When a Snake Sheds Her Skin

Lou

Wrapping my arms around my legs, I rested my chin on my knees and gazed up at the afternoon sky. Thick, heavy clouds had gathered overhead, shrouding the sunshine and promising precipitation. Though my eyes still stung, I postponed closing them just a little longer. Below me, Coco and Ansel waited in my room. I could hear their murmurs from where I sat atop the roof.

At least something good had come from this nightmarish day.

At least they were speaking again—even if it was about me.

“What can we do?” Ansel said anxiously.

“We can’t do anything.” Coco’s voice was hoarse from tears—or perhaps smoke. The honey had healed her burns, but it hadn’t repaired the bar. Claud had promised to pay the innkeeper for damages. “At least she knows now. She’ll be more careful.”

“And Reid?”

“He’ll come back to her. He always does.”

I didn’t deserve any of them.

As if trying to lift my spirits, the wind caressed my face, grasping tendrils of my hair in its wintry grip. Or maybe it wasn’t the wind at all. Maybe it was something else. Someone else. Feeling slightly ridiculous, I looked to the vast, ubiquitous clouds and whispered, “I need your help.”

The wind stopped teasing my hair.

Encouraged, I sat up and squared my shoulders, letting my feet dangle from the eave. “Fathers shouldn’t abandon their children. Mine was a shitty excuse for a human being—give him a kick from me if he’s up there—but even he tried to protect me in his own twisted way. You, though . . . you should do better. You’re supposed to be the father of all fathers, aren’t you? Or maybe—maybe you’re the mother of all mothers, and it’s like my own maman said.” I shook my head, defeated. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe you do want me dead.”

A bird shot from a window below me with a startled cry, and I tensed, peering down the edge of the building, searching for what had disturbed it. There was nothing. All was quiet and calm. Remnants of the last snowfall still clung to the corners of the rooftop, but now the sky couldn’t seem to decide between snow and rain. Aimless flakes drifted through the air. Though a few mourners gathered in the damp, narrow street below, most wouldn’t arrive until they finished with Requiem Mass.

Coco’s and Ansel’s voices had tapered off a few moments ago. Perhaps they’d gone to her room to resolve their own problems. I hoped they did. Whether together or apart, they each deserved happiness.