“Closer than I’d like.” I nibbled on my thumbnail, watching Tristan go to the far side of the table. The seeds of magic had disappeared into one of his pockets, but I felt their presence acutely. When would he take one? What would it do? “We’ll only get one chance to attack them.” And I wasn’t entirely confident I could take down more than one troll at a time. Roland had to be first, because at least my friends could handle Lessa and the others if they had to. But what if Angoulême’s plans had changed? What if there were more trolls with them than we expected?
“Perhaps we might have a contest to see how many we can hit Lessa with before Cécile finishes her spell,” Victoria suggested, interrupting my thoughts.
Tristan coughed. “As the donor supplying your projectiles, I’m going to veto that plan.”
“Does it need to be you?” Marc asked. “You’re taxed as it is with this dome you’ve created. The last thing we need to be doing is bleeding you dry.”
Tristan sat down at the table and rested his chin on his hands, eyes thoughtful. “When Anushka used the spell on me, it was as though I were bound by my own power. Cécile will be manipulating the magic of whomever’s blood she uses, which suggests the more powerful the donor, the better.”
“But Ana?s was able to stop your father,” I reminded him.
“I know.” He frowned. “But better not to take chances.” And before anyone could argue with him, he pulled a knife out of his boot, pushed up his sleeve, and sliced the blade across his forearm where the earlier laceration had long since faded. Angling the tip of the weapon, he watched expressionless as rivulets of crimson ran down the steel and into one of the bottles.
“That’ll do,” I said after the third bottle was full. “The last thing we need is you fainting and Trianon falling while we’re gone.”
Tristan gave a slight roll of his eyes, but didn’t argue as I tied a handkerchief around his arm. As he fussed with the sleeve of his shirt, I caught Sabine’s attention and held it. Watch him for me.
She nodded.
Carefully wrapping the bottles in a scarf, I put them in my satchel. “Night is upon us. It’s time we set sail.”
* * *
The sails of the ship snapped tight with a gust of wind, the masts creaking, and water slapping against the hull. With each sound, I flinched, certain that Roland stood on the beach under the cover of night, his sharp ears marking our progress, waiting for the right moment to strike. The sailors seemed of a like mind, the tension rolling off them palpable even in the darkness.
“This is as far as we take you,” the captain said, and I curbed the urge to shush him. “You’ll need to row yourselves to shore.” The tiny boat in question hit the water with a splash, and a squeak of fear forced its way out of my throat.
“Thank you,” Marc replied. “But we’ll walk. Please hold your position until we signal.”
I heard the rustle of his cloak and a sliver of moonlight peeked through the clouds to illuminate him standing on the railing, one hand held out to me. “Mademoiselle?”
Though we’d agreed no one would use my name lest they draw the attention of the Winter Queen, it still jarred in my ears to be called anything but. Swallowing hard, I took hold and allowed him to pull me up, his steady grip the only thing keeping me from falling into the black waters below. “Ready?”
“For what?” I spluttered.
Marc stepped off the rail.
I gasped, but instead of plunging down, he stood suspended in thin air. I cautiously edged the tip of my boot out, my heart slowing not in the slightest as I felt the firm plank of magic beneath my foot. “I can’t see,” I whispered. “I don’t know where to step.”
“Just follow my lead,” he said, tugging me forward. I took a hesitant step, but spray from the ocean had already coated the magic, and my boots slid on the slick surface. The ship rocked on a wave, and the invisible plank bobbed up and down wildly. I ripped my hand from Marc’s grip and dropped to my stomach, grasping about until my fingers closed over the edges of the magic. Then I pressed my face against it, trying and failing not to think about what it would feel like to plunge into the icy waters below.
“Want me to carry you?” Victoria asked.
“No.” Taking a few measured breaths, I added, “I’m fine.”
The plank took that opportunity to buck like an untrained horse, and I slid to one side, spray soaking into my clothing. Lingering in this position wasn’t doing me any favors.
I crawled forward, keeping a tight grip on the edges and the faint shadows of Marc’s boots directly in front of my nose. I made it perhaps the equivalent of ten paces before magic looped around my waist and flung me over Victoria’s shoulder.
Holding onto the end of her braid with one hand, I clenched my teeth and held my breath as the three of them moved at reckless speed over the open water, inhaling only when I felt Victoria’s boots sink into the deep sand of the beach. She sat me on my feet, but I immediately sank to my haunches, waiting for the world to quit spinning. Acutely aware that the three of them were watching, I asked, “Did you signal the captain?”
“He’s been trying to sail away since we stepped off the ship,” Marc replied. “His signal is that I let him.” The debris covering the beach crunched beneath his boots. “We need to get out of the open. There are only a few hours left until dawn.”
* * *