I’d once called it moondust. Morgane had gifted it to me on a particularly cold Samhain.

“Careful.” Manon pressed a cool cloth against my forehead. “Your body is still weak. Morgane said you haven’t eaten properly in days.”

Her words spiked through my pounding head, accompanied by another dizzying wave of nausea. I would’ve gladly never eaten again for her to shut up. Scowling, I fixated on the golden light inching steadily across the room. It was morning, then. Two days left.

“Something wrong?” Manon asked.

“If I could move, I’d puke all over your lap.”

She clucked sympathetically. “Morgane said you might have an adverse reaction to the medicine. It’s not meant for such prolonged use.”

“Is that what you call it? Medicine? That’s an interesting word for poison.”

She didn’t answer, but the next moment, she waved a blueberry oatmeal muffin under my nose. I closed my eyes and resisted the urge to gag. “Go away.”

“You need to eat, Lou.” Ignoring my protests, she sank onto the edge of the bed and offered me a tentative smile. “I even made a chocolate hazelnut spread—with sugar this time, not the beastly kind I used to make with salt.”

When we were children, Manon and I had loved nothing more than playing tricks, usually involving food. Cookies with salt instead of sugar. Caramel onions instead of apples. Mint paste instead of icing.

I didn’t return her smile.

She sighed and touched a hand to my forehead in response. Though I strained to jerk away, the effort was in vain, and my head swam sickeningly. I focused on the leaf again, on breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. Just like Reid had done when he needed to regain control.

Reid.

I closed my eyes miserably. Without Angelica’s Ring, I couldn’t protect anyone. The Lyons would die. The Church would fall. The witches would crush the kingdom. I could only hope Reid and Ansel escaped the fallout. Perhaps Coco could help them—they could sail far away from Belterra, across the sea to Amaris or Lustere . . .

But I would still die. I’d made an odd sort of peace with my fate last night while the castle slept. Even if Morgane hadn’t poisoned me—even if she hadn’t ordered guards outside my door—I had no doubt she’d keep her promise if I somehow managed to escape. Bile rose to my throat at the thought of tasting Reid’s blood. Of choking on his heart. I closed my eyes and willed back the sense of calm I’d conjured last night.

I was tired of running. Tired of hiding. I was just . . . tired.

As if sensing my growing distress, Manon lifted her hands in invitation. “I might be able to help with the pain.”

Stomach rolling, I glared at her for only a moment before conceding. She set to examining my various injuries with gentle fingers, and I closed my eyes. After a moment, she asked, “Where did you go? After you fled the Chateau?”

I opened my eyes reluctantly. “Cesarine.”

With a wave of her fingers, the pounding in my head and gnawing ache in my stomach eased infinitesimally.

“And how did you stay hidden? From the Chasseurs . . . from us?”

“I sold my soul.”

She gasped, lifting a hand to her mouth in horror. “What?”

I rolled my eyes and clarified. “I became a thief, Manon. I squatted in dirty theaters and stole food from innocent bakers. I did bad things to good people. I killed. I lied and cheated and smoked and drank and even slept with a prostitute once. So it amounts to the same thing. I’ll burn in hell either way.”

At her stunned expression, anger flared hot and insistent in my chest. Damn her and her judgment. Damn her and her questions.

I didn’t want to talk about this. I didn’t want to remember. That life—the things I’d done to survive, the people I’d loved and lost in the process—it was gone. Just like my life at the Chateau. Burned to nothing but black ash and blacker memory.

“Anything else?” I asked bitterly. “By all means, let’s continue catching up. We’re such great friends, after all. Are you still bedding Madeleine? How’s your sister? I assume she’s still prettier than you?”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew they’d been the wrong things to say. Her expression hardened, and she dropped her hands, inhaling sharply as if I’d stabbed her. Guilt trickled through me despite my anger. Damn it. Damn it.

“Don’t get me wrong,” I added grudgingly, “she’s prettier than me too—”

“She’s dead.”

My anger froze into something dark and premonitory at her words. Something cold.

“The Chasseurs found her last year.” Manon picked at a spot on my bedspread, pain shimmering hard and bright in her eyes. “The Archbishop was visiting Amandine. Fleur knew to be careful, but . . . her friend in the village had broken his arm. She healed him. It didn’t take long for the Chasseurs to notice the smell. Fleur panicked and ran.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“They burned her. Eleven years old.” She shook her head, closing her eyes as if fighting against an onslaught of images. “I couldn’t reach her in time, nor could our mother. We wept as the wind carried her ashes away.”

Eleven. Burned alive.

She gripped my hand suddenly, eyes shining with fierce, unshed tears. “You have a chance to right the wrongs of this world, Lou. How could you turn away from such an opportunity?”

“So you’d still have me die.” The words left me without heat, as empty and emotionless as the chasm in my chest.

“I would die a thousand deaths to get my sister back,” Manon said harshly. Relinquishing my hand, she loosed an uneven breath, and when she spoke again, her voice was much softer. “I would take your place if I could, ma sœur—any of us would. But we can’t. It has to be you.”

The tears spilled down her cheeks now. “I know it’s too much to ask. I know I have no right—but please, Lou. Please don’t flee again. You’re the only one who can end this. You’re the only one who can save us. Promise me you won’t try to escape.”

I watched her tears as if from another’s body. A heaviness settled through me that had nothing to do with injections. It pressed against my chest, my nose, my mouth—suffocating me, pulling me under, tempting me with oblivion. With surrender. With rest.

God, I was tired.

The words left my lips of their own volition. “I promise.”

“You—you do?”

“I do.” Despite the gentle pressure, the coaxing darkness, I forced myself to meet her eyes. They shone with a hope so clear and sharp it might’ve cut me. “I’m sorry, Manon. I never meant for anyone to die. When it—after it happens—I—I promise to look for Fleur in the afterlife—wherever it is. And if I find her, I’ll tell her how much you miss her. How much you love her.”

Her tears fell faster now, and she clasped my hands between her own, squeezing tight. “Thank you, Lou. Thank you. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me. For us. All of this pain will be over soon.”

All of this pain will be over soon.

I longed to sleep.

I had little to do over the next two days but drift into darkness.