This could work.

With a ragged breath, I clenched my fist. The pattern vanished in a burst of gold.

Reid’s eyes widened as his neck went taut, and his back bowed off the wall. His spine strained to remain intact as the magic pulled him upward as if he were caught in a noose. The witch shrieked, dropping me, and I knew without looking she was in a similar position. Before she could counter, I flicked my wrist, and Reid’s arms snapped to his sides, pinned, his fingers adhering together. His head tilted back unnaturally, extending his throat. Exposing it.

Ansel dove into the corridor as the witch’s shrieks turned strangled—desperate.

“Ansel,” I said sharply. “A sword.”

He raced forward, handing me Reid’s Balisarda. The witch struggled harder against the enchantment binding her—fear finally breaking loose in those hateful eyes—but I held strong.

Lifting the knife to her throat, I took a deep breath. Her eyes darted wildly.

“I’ll see you in Hell,” I whispered.

I flexed my hand, and the witch’s and Reid’s bodies collapsed in unison, the pattern dissolving. The blade severed her throat as she fell, and her lifeblood coursed, warm and thick, down my arm. Her body slumped to the floor. It stopped twitching within seconds.

Witch killer.

The silence in the room was deafening.

I stared down at her body—Balisarda dangling limply at my side—and watched her blood pool at my feet. It coated my boots and stained the hem of my dress. The sounds of the battle outside had faded. I didn’t know who had won. I didn’t care.

“Ansel,” Reid said with deadly calm. I flinched at the sound of his voice. Please. If you can hear me, God, let him understand. But Ansel’s eyes widened at whatever he saw on Reid’s face, and I didn’t dare turn around. “Get out.”

Ansel’s gaze flicked back to me, and I pleaded wordlessly with him not to leave. He nodded, straightening and stepping toward Reid. “I think I should stay.”

“Get. Out.”

“Reid—”

“GET OUT!”

I whirled, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Don’t talk to him like that!”

His eyes sparked with fury, and his hands curled into fists. “You seem to have forgotten who I am, Louise. I’m a captain of the Chasseurs. I will speak to him as I wish.”

Ansel backed hastily into the corridor. “I’ll be right outside, Lou. I promise.”

A wave of hopelessness swept through me as he left. I felt Reid’s eyes burning into my skin, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him again. Couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge the hatred I would find there . . . because once I acknowledged it, it became real. And it couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be.

He loved me.

Silence stretched between us. Unable to stand it any longer, I glanced up. His blue eyes—once so beautiful, like the sea—were living flames.

“Please say something,” I whispered.

His jaw clenched. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“I’m still me, Reid—”

He jerked his head in swift dismissal. “No, you’re not. You’re a witch.”

More tears leaked down my face as I struggled to collect my thoughts. There was so much I wanted to say—so much I needed to tell him—but I couldn’t concentrate on anything but the loathing in his eyes, the way his lip curled as if I were something repulsive and strange. I closed my eyes against the image, chin quivering once more.

“I wanted to tell you,” I began softly.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I . . . I didn’t want to lose you.” Eyes still closed, I extended his Balisarda tentatively. An offering. “I love you, Reid.”

He scoffed and jerked the handle from my grip. “Love me. As if someone like you is even capable of love. The Archbishop told us witches were clever. He told us they were cruel. But I fell for the tricks, same as him.” An angry, unnatural sound tore from his throat. “The witch said your mother was waiting for you. It’s her, isn’t it? Morgane le Blanc. You—you’re the daughter of La Dame des Sorcières. Which means—” An anguished noise this time, raw with disbelief, as if he’d been stabbed through the heart without warning. I didn’t open my eyes to watch the realization dawn. Couldn’t bear to see the final piece click into place. “The witches’ story was true, wasn’t it? Their performance. The Archbishop—”

He broke off abruptly, and silence descended once more. I felt his gaze on my face like a brand, but I didn’t open my eyes.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.” His voice was colder now. Chilling. “His unnatural interest in your welfare, his refusal to punish your defiance. The way he forced me to marry you. It all makes sense. You even look alike.”

I didn’t want it to be true. I wished it away with every fragment of my fractured heart. My tears fell thicker and faster, a torrent of sorrow Reid ignored.

“And here I was—pouring my foolish heart out to you.” His voice grew louder and louder with each word. “I fell right into your trap. That’s all this was, wasn’t it? You needed a place to hide. You thought the Chasseurs would protect you. You thought I would protect you. You—” His breathing turned ragged. “You used me.”

The truth of his words was a knife to my own heart. My eyes snapped open. For a split second, I saw the flicker of misery and hurt beneath his fury, but then it was gone, buried beneath a lifetime of hatred.

A hatred proving stronger than love.

“That’s not true,” I whispered. “At first—maybe—but something changed, Reid. Please, you have to believe me—”

“What am I supposed to do, Lou?” He wrung his hands in the air, voice escalating to a roar. “I’m a Chasseur! I took an oath to hunt witches—to hunt you! How could you do this to me?”

I flinched again and stepped back until my legs pressed against the bed frame. “You—Reid, you also made an oath to me. You’re my husband, and I’m your wife.”

His hands dropped to his sides. Defeated. A spark of hope flared in my chest. But then he closed his eyes—seeming to collapse in on himself—and when he opened them again, they were void of all emotion. Empty. Dead.

“You are not my wife.”

What was left of my heart shattered completely.

I pressed a hand to my mouth in an effort to stem my sobs. Tears blurred my vision. Reid didn’t move as I fled past him, didn’t reach out to catch me as I tripped over the threshold. I crashed to my hands and knees outside the door.

Ansel’s arms wrapped around me. “Are you hurt?”

I pushed away from him wildly, scrambling to my feet. “I’m sorry, Ansel. I’m so sorry.”

Then I was running—running as hard and fast as my broken body would allow. Ansel called after me, but I ignored him, hurtling down the stairs. Desperate to put as much distance between myself and Reid as possible.

Do not urge me to leave you or turn back from you. His words stabbed through me with each step. Where you go, I will go. Where you stay, I will stay.

I won’t let her hurt you again, Lou. I’ll protect you. Everything will be all right.