But then my eyes did catch sight of a familiar face: Esmeralda. She stood with a group of sailors, gesturing angrily, and although there was little chance of her glancing up to see me, I leaned back so that my face was obscured by the curtain. And felt cowardly as I did. I was supposed to have helped Zoé and élise – all the half-bloods – but there were times when I thought all I’d done was make things worse for them. I’d distracted Tristan and altered his focus, and I knew he’d sacrificed them to save me when I’d been hurt.
No humans were allowed into Trollus anymore, so Esmeralda had lost her only contact with her nieces. All because of me. There was no apology capable of making up for that – the only thing that could would be breaking the curse and winning the girls’ freedom.
I sighed, pushing my regrets to the back of my mind. I’d barely been able to sleep last night, my mind so full of the possibilities that one short conversation with La Voisin – Catherine – had opened up for me. The least of which was the chance I might be able to communicate with those in Trollus.
Tristan had been up to something last night, and his wakefulness had contributed to my own insomnia. It would help so much to be able to talk to him just once. To explain what had happened and what I’d discovered. I bit my lip, thinking about how that conversation would go. Perhaps not as well as I’d like. I knew that he did not support my actions, and given the chance, he’d probably tell me to stop. To give up.
But I couldn’t.
I shivered, and then slid the window shut so my mother and Julian would think the chill was finally getting to me. We were on the way to the Regent’s castle for our first rehearsal with the ladies who would be part of the performance; and as she had commissioned the performance, the Regent’s wife, Marie du Chastelier, was certain to be there. Twelve of the most important women in Trianon, and who knew how many others there to keep them entertained.
It was an incredible and unique opportunity, but my enjoyment was tempered by another thought that had occurred to me last night: this was not a social circle I’d met in the foyer of the opera. These women were a level above me, and it might be possible that Anushka was among them.
“Have you given any consideration to the list of operas I provided you?” Julian asked. “Given it will be Cécile’s debut as lead soprano, it’s important we make the correct choice. A fresh new act for a fresh new face.”
He’s still under the effects of the potion. The thought nudged me, sending a trickle of discontent through my veins. I hadn’t spoken to Sabine since I’d confronted her, but I was finding it hard to stay angry with her. What she’d tried to do was wrong, but her actions had a good intention.
“I’ll keep your suggestions in mind.” There was a trace of sarcasm in my mother’s voice, but Julian didn’t seem to notice.
“It needs to be something avant-garde, maybe a little scandalous…”
“And its selection is not our priority,” my mother interrupted. “The masque is.”
“But we need to stay ahead of our competition!”
“Drop it, Julian,” I muttered, then tuned them out and stared down at my hands. My chapped fingertips peeked out from blue lace half-gloves, nails bitten down to the quick. When had I started doing that?
Over the rattle of the carriage, I heard the sound of rushing water. A glance out the window confirmed we were on the bridge leading to the walled castle gates. The Regent’s castle was built on an island in the middle of the Indre River, the thick stone walls rising up from the swift rapids. The only access to the island was the bridges, one to the north bank and one to the south, both with heavily fortified gates. I’d never been inside the walls before, and despite myself, I was eager to see what the castle would be like.
The carriage stopped, and moments later, a guard looked in the window at us. My mother lifted a hand in greeting, and he waved us forward. I caught a quick flash of the walls as we passed through the gates. They were dull grey with a faint hint of green lichen in the mortar cracks, but the impression they gave me was of strength and practicality. The castle had been built with defense, not beauty, in mind, although to the best of my knowledge, it had never been attacked.
My eyes flicked over the outbuildings as we slowly passed by, all of them squat and sturdy. I wanted to get out and go look at them – to see what sort of activities went on within the confines of the walls. But the ground was wet and the delicate shoes my mother had insisted I wear were unsuited for traipsing through stables and smithies.