“Cécile, calm down,” he shouted into my ear. “He knows how to take care of himself.”
The flames crept higher, catching at the buildings to either side, the efforts of the bucket brigade futile against the inferno. Nothing could survive in that heat, and I could hear the splintering and cracks of timbers that told me the roof was on the verge of collapse. Logic told me that Tristan’s magic would keep him safe, but instinct made me scream warnings for him to get out.
Then, through the smoke, I saw him walking toward us, a limp form floating ahead of him.
Chris let go of me, and I started to run toward them, but an invisible rope of power caught me, lifting me up into the air and setting me in the corner of the yard. “What are you doing?” I coughed, clawing at the magic. “I can help her.”
“She’s beyond help.” Tristan set her on the grass, but I couldn’t make anything out through the haze. “You don’t need to see this.”
“Let me go!”
Tristan only shook his head, ignoring Chris, who had taken one look and was now retching against the wall. “She’s dead, Cécile. Someone slit her throat, and then the fire did its work. It isn’t something I want you to see.”
I didn’t deserve to be protected, I deserved to see what had befallen Catherine because I’d involved her in a plot far bigger than she knew. “What about the grimoire?”
“Not on her. And if it’s inside, there’s nothing left but ash.”
Our only hope was gone. Slumping into the dirt, I rested my cheek against the mossy stone of the wall and watched the shop burn. Then a motion at my arm caught my attention, a soft tongue licking at my hand.
Looking down, I saw the bedraggled form of a dog. “Souris!” I clutched him to my chest, petting his fur, and whispering comforts to him that I wished I could feel. As I held him, part of the roof collapsed with a whoosh of hot air, and the rear door of the building slammed, making me look up.
My hands turned cold, making me long for the returned heat of the fire as I stared, my comprehension coming quick and my reaction slow. “Tristan,” I called, my voice ragged. “Chris!”
The tone of my voice made them look over, and with one shaking finger, I pointed to the closed door of the burning house. Any doubt I had about who had killed Catherine was gone.
Painted in thick red across the wood was the letter A. Anushka had killed Catherine, and she had left a message.
And the worst part about it was, I was certain it was for us.
Thirty-Five
Cécile
We stayed at the fire until it was under control, Tristan creating a sort of magical chimney to keep the flames from spreading any further. Bystanders whispered that it was a miracle the whole quarter hadn’t gone up, but it did not appear to cross the mind of any of them that the tall young man watching from the street had anything to do with it.
Chris helped with the bucket brigade, while Sabine and I circulated through the crowd, listening for any hints as to how the fire might have started. No one knew anything. No one had seen anything. But there were plenty who believed the flames that had been chasing the infamous La Voisin these past four years had finally caught up with her. Only the four of us knew how right they were.
We’d lost the grimoire. Whether it had burned in the fire or been taken by Anushka, it didn’t really matter. Without it, I had no way to track her, and I felt as though I’d fallen back to where I’d been that night the King had summoned me to the beach. Everything I’d done had been for naught.
Well, almost everything. Lifting my head, I regarded Tristan’s lean form walking ahead of me, his head slightly turned as he talked with Chris, pestering him with questions about the city. Not so very long ago, it would have felt like a dream to have him be the only troll free of the curse, but now that dream seemed entirely short-sighted, as all our problems remained. I squeezed Souris to my chest with one arm and pressed closer to Sabine, who had her elbow linked with mine.
“Is there really no way to break this bond between you two?”
“Only death,” I said, sighing. “And even if there were a way, I wouldn’t take it. I love him.”
She was silent.
“You’re being awfully quick to judge, given you just met,” I said.
“I know enough.” Her voice was low. “Just looking at him makes my skin crawl. I cannot understand what you see in that… that thing.”
I flinched, but a second later, anger chased away the hurt and I dragged her to a stop. “There were those in Trollus who said the exact same thing to him,” I snapped. “Except I was the thing. I was the one who was different. But he didn’t see it that way, and neither do I.”
Chris coughed, and I looked up to see them both watching me. Tristan’s face was hidden in the shadows of his cloak, but I knew he’d heard what I said.
“Tomorrow, then?” Chris said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.