All the air left me in a whoosh. Three words. Three perfect punches.

Bitter anger returned with my breath. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

If Ansel had told me—if Ansel had been a real Chasseur—none of this would’ve happened. I wouldn’t have been blindsided. I could have dealt with this before—before I—

“I told you.” Ansel still stared at his boots, nudging a piece of fallen mortar with his toe. “Lou is my friend.”

“When?” I deadpanned. “When did you know?”

“During the witch burning. When—when Lou had her fit. She was crying, and the witch was screaming—then they switched. Everyone thought Lou was seizing, but I saw her. I smelled the magic.” He looked up, throat bobbing. Eyes shining. “She was burning, Reid. I don’t know how, but she took away that witch’s pain. She gave it to herself.” He exhaled heavily. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. Because even though I knew Lou was a witch, I knew she wasn’t evil. She burned at the stake once. She doesn’t deserve to do it twice.”

Silence met his pronouncement. I stared between the two of them, eyes stinging. “I never would’ve hurt her.”

As the words left my mouth, I realized their truth. Even if Ansel had told me, it wouldn’t have changed anything. I wouldn’t have been able to tie her to a stake. I dropped my face in my hands. Defeated.

“Enough,” Mademoiselle Perrot said sharply. “How long has she been gone?”

“About an hour.”

Ansel shifted in obvious discomfort before murmuring, “The witch mentioned Morgane.”

My hands fell as genuine fear twisted Mademoiselle Perrot’s face. Her eyes—once hateful, once accusing—met mine with sudden, unsettling urgency. “We need to leave.” Throwing the door open, she rushed into the corridor. “We can’t talk about this here.”

Trepidation knotted my stomach. “Where can we go?”

“To the Bellerose.” She didn’t bother looking back. Seeing no other choice, Ansel and I hurried after her. “I told Beau I’d meet him—and there’s someone there who might know where Lou is.”

The inside of the Bellerose was dimly lit. I’d never been inside a brothel, but I assumed the marble floors and the gold leaf on the walls marked this a more glamorous whorehouse than others. A harpist sat in one corner. She strummed her instrument and crooned a mournful ballad. Women clad in sheer white clothes danced slowly. A handful of drunken men watched them with hungry eyes. A fountain bubbled in the center of the room.

It was the most ostentatious thing I’d ever seen. It suited Madame Labelle perfectly.

“We’re wasting time. We should be out there searching for Lou—” I started angrily, but Mademoiselle Perrot shot me a withering glare over her shoulder before striding toward a partially concealed table in the back.

Beauregard Lyon rose as we approached, eyes narrowing. “What the hell are they doing here?”

She threw herself into a chair with a heavy sigh, waving a hand between the three of us. “Look, Beau, I have more pressing matters to handle this evening than you and your pissing contest.”

He dropped into another chair, crossing his arms and sulking. “What could possibly be more pressing than me?”

She jerked her head toward me. “This idiot lost Lou, and I need to perform a locator spell to find her.”

Locator spell?

I watched in confusion as she drew a small vial from her cloak. Uncorking it, she spilled the dark powder on the table. Beau looked on as if bored, tipping back in his chair. I glanced at Ansel—seeking confirmation the woman before us had gone mad—but he wouldn’t look at me. When she pulled out a knife and lifted her opposite hand, my stomach dropped with realization.

Tremblay’s townhouse. Three poisoned dogs. Blood running from their maws. The stench of magic piercing the air—black and biting, more acrid than the magic in the infirmary. Different.

Her eyes met mine as she slashed her palm open, letting the blood drip onto the table. “I should probably tell you, Chass, my name isn’t Brie Perrot. It’s Cosette, but my friends call me Coco.”

Cosette Monvoisin. She’d been hiding in the Tower all along. Right under our noses.

I reached for my Balisarda instinctively, but Ansel’s hand came down on my arm. “Reid, don’t. She’s helping us find Lou.”

I wrenched away from him—horrified, furious—but my hand stilled. She winked at me before returning her attention to the tabletop. The dark powder congealed under her blood—then began moving. Bile rose in my throat, and my nose burned. “What is that?”

“Dried blood of a hound.” She watched raptly as strange symbols formed. “It’ll tell us where Lou is.”

Beau tipped forward, propping his chin in his elbow against the table. “And just where do you think she might be?”

A small furrow appeared between Coco’s eyes. “With Morgane le Blanc.”

“Morgane le Blanc?” He straightened and looked at us incredulously, as if expecting one of us to laugh. “Why would the bitch witch queen be interested in Lou?”

“Because she’s her mother.” The shapes stilled suddenly, and Coco’s eyes snapped to mine. Wide. Panicked. “Lou’s trail disappears north into La Forêt des Yeux. I can’t see past it.” I stared at her, and she nodded imperceptibly at my unspoken question. Her chin trembled. “If Morgane has Lou, she’s as good as dead.”

“No.” I shook my head vehemently, unable to accept it. “We just need to find the Chateau. You’re a witch. You can lead us to it—”

Angry tears sprang to her eyes. “I don’t know where the Chateau is. Only a Dame Blanche can find it, and you’ve lost the only Dame Blanche I know!”

“You—you’re not a Dame Blanche?”

She flung her bloody palm under my nose as if it should mean something. “Of course not! Are Chasseurs really this ignorant?”

I stared at the blood pooling there with rising hysteria. The same acrid smell from before assaulted me. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m a Dame Rouge, you idiot. A Red Lady. A blood witch.” She slapped her hand on the table, splattering the black shapes. “I can’t find the Chateau because I’ve never been there.”

A ringing started in my ears. “No.” I shook my head. “That can’t be true. There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t.” Tears spilled down her cheeks as she shoved to her feet, but she wiped them away quickly. The scent around us sharpened. “Unless you know another Dame Blanche—another Dame Blanche willing to betray her sisters and lead a Chasseur into their home—Lou is gone.”

No.

“Do you know a witch like that, Chass?” She stuck a finger in my chest, tears still streaming. They hissed and smoked when they dripped on her shirt. Beau rose, placing an uncertain hand on her back. “Do you know a witch willing to sacrifice everything for you the way Lou did? Do you?”

No.

“Actually,” a cool, familiar voice replied, “he does.”

We turned as one to look upon my savior. I nearly choked at her fiery red hair.