“This is a shit plan,” Beau said. “We’ll hardly reach Cesarine in time for the funeral, yet we’re also expected to journey to Le Ventre? Not to mention the insanity that is approaching my father about an alliance. You were in the pub, weren’t you? You saw the wanted posters? Those men were going to cut off your head—”

“My head. Not Reid’s. For whatever reason, your father doesn’t want him dead. Maybe he already knows about their connection, but if he doesn’t, he’ll soon find out. You’re going to introduce them.” I slipped back behind Reid to change into my new clothing. He was wide enough to block three of me from view. “Just so you know,” I added to him, “the only reason I’m allowing this brute show of possessiveness is because your brother hasn’t seen my tits yet, and I’m going to keep it that way.”

“You break my heart, sister mine,” Beau said.

“Shut up.” Blood crept up Reid’s neck. “Not another word.”

Interesting. He didn’t feel the need to apologize. A peculiar bitterness settled on my tongue, and I didn’t particularly enjoy the taste—like regret and uncertainty and . . . something else. I couldn’t name it.

“You should think about leaving soon,” I told them. “After our rather spectacular excursion in Saint-Loire, the road will be crawling with bounty hunters. The Chasseurs might’ve turned around too. I know you’re still uncomfortable with magic, Reid, but Madame Labelle will have to disguise you again. We can also ask to—”

I stopped short at Coco’s laughter. She looked expectantly at Reid. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

Peeking at her from beneath Reid’s arm, I asked, “Can’t wait to hear what?”

She nodded to Reid. “Go on. Tell her.”

He craned his neck to look down his shoulder at me as I slipped the scarlet shirt over my head and leather tights up my legs. I bent to lace my boots. Finally, he muttered, “I can’t do it, Lou.”

Frowning up at him, I straightened. “Can’t do what?”

He shook his head slowly, the flush in his throat creeping up his cheeks. He clenched his jaw and lifted his chin. “I can’t be around it. Magic. I won’t.”

I stared at him, and between one breath and another, the pieces clicked into place. His standoffishness, his disloyalty, his concern—it all made sense now.

Lou is different when she uses magic. Her emotions, her judgment—she’s been erratic.

I’m worried about her.

There was a moment when she looked—she looked almost exactly like—

Like her mother. He hadn’t needed to finish the sentence.

It’s aberrant, he’d said.

Aberrant.

The bitterness coated my throat now, threatening to choke me, and I finally recognized it for what is was. Shame. “Well, isn’t that convenient.”

From beneath Reid’s arm, I caught a glimpse of Coco hooking Beau’s elbow and dragging him away. He didn’t protest. When they’d disappeared from my view, Reid turned to face me, bending low to meet my eyes directly. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s not that.”

“People don’t really change, do they?”

“Lou—”

“Are you going to start calling me it? I wouldn’t blame you.” I bared my teeth at him, leaning close enough to bite. Never once in my eighteen years had I allowed anyone to make me feel the way I felt now. I resented the tears pooling in my eyes, the nausea rolling in my belly. “I’m aberrant, after all. Erratic.”

He cursed softly, his eyes fluttering closed. “You were listening.”

“Of course I was listening. How dare you insult me to justify your own twisted narrative—”

“Stop. Stop.” His eyes snapped open as he reached for me, gripping my arms, but his hands were gentle. “I told you it doesn’t matter that you’re a witch. I meant it.”

“Bullshit.” I jerked away from him, watching in acute misery as his hands fell. The next second, I tackled him around the waist, burying my face in his chest. My voice was muffled, broken, as I squeezed him tight. “You didn’t even give me a chance.”

He held me tighter still, wrapping his body around mine like he could shield me from the world. “This is about magic, not you.”

“Magic is me. And it’s you too.”

“No, it isn’t. All those pieces you’re giving up—I want them. I want you. Whole and unharmed.” He pulled away to look at me, those blue eyes blazing with intensity. “I know I can’t ask you to stop using magic, so I won’t. But I can ask it of my mother. I can ask it of myself. And I can”—he brushed a strand of hair from my cheek—“I can ask you to be careful.”

“You can’t be serious.” Finally, finally, I recoiled from his touch, my heart catching up with my head. “You’re acting like I’m suddenly damaged goods, or—or a piece of glass about to shatter. News flash—I’ve practiced magic all my life. I know what I’m doing.”

“Lou.” He reached for me again, but I swatted his hand away. Those eyes burned brighter, hotter. “You haven’t been yourself.”

“You see what you want to see.”

“Do you think I want to see you as—”

“As what? As evil?”

He gripped my shoulders hard. “You are not evil.”

“Of course I’m not.” I wiped a tear from my eye before it could fall, before he could see. Never once in my eighteen years had I allowed myself to feel small, to feel ashamed, and I refused to start now. “You would willingly endanger your life—your mother’s life, your brother’s life—by refusing to use magic on the road?”

“I’m damned either way.”

I stared at him for a long moment. The conviction in his eyes shone brutally clear, and it cut deeper than I’d anticipated. That wounded part of me wanted him to suffer for his foolishness. As they were, they’d all die on the road without magic, and if they didn’t, they certainly would in La Ventre. He was crippling them with prejudice, weakening them with fear. The weak didn’t survive war.

Reid had to survive.

“No, you aren’t.” I stepped away from him, resigned, and squared my shoulders. His life was worth more than my wounded pride. Later—when all of this was over—I’d show him how wrong he was about magic. About me. “Before the pub exploded, Claud Deveraux offered help if I should ever need it. His traveling troupe leaves for Cesarine tonight. You’ll join him.”

HarperCollins Publishers

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Troupe De Fortune

Reid

The others protested little to Lou’s solution.

I wished they would. Perhaps she’d listen to them. She certainly hadn’t listened to me. When we’d packed our belongings—a whirlwind of mud, snow, and blood—I’d tried to reason with her to no avail.

This entire scheme, albeit clever, depended on one thing: Claud Deveraux.

We didn’t know Claud Deveraux. More important, he knew us—or at least he seemed to know Lou. He’d been infatuated with her at the pub. He’d also seen her use magic. He knew she was a witch. Though I’d learned witches weren’t inherently evil, the rest of the kingdom had not. If he helped us, what sort of person did that make him?