“Babette told me of Etienne. We can—”

“I do not speak of Etienne.”

“Then who . . . ?”

“Sickness took Delphine and Marie. Only last week, Denys passed from exposure. His mother left him to forage for food. He tried to follow.” Her eyes hardened to glittering chips of obsidian. She dropped Coco’s chin. “Do you remember him? He was not yet two years old.”

Coco’s breath hitched, and nausea churned in my own belly.

“I’m—” Coco stopped then, reconsidering. A wise decision. La Voisin didn’t want her apology. She wanted her to suffer. To stew. Abruptly, Coco turned to me. “Lou, you—you remember my aunt, Josephine Monvoisin.” She gestured between us helplessly. Taking pity on her, I nodded and forced a smile. It felt disrespectful after such a revelation.

“Bonjour, Madame Monvoisin.” I didn’t extend my throat. As children, Coco’s first lesson to me had been simple: never offer my blood to a Dame Rouge. Especially her aunt, who loathed Morgane and the Dames Blanches perhaps even more than I did. “Thank you for granting us an audience.”

She stared at me for another long moment. “You look like your mother.”

Coco quickly charged onward. “And this—this is Ansel Diggory. He’s—”

La Voisin still didn’t acknowledge him. Her eyes never strayed from mine. “I know who he is.”

“A baby huntsman.” Licking her bottom lip, Nicholina edged closer, her eyes hungry and bright. “He is pretty, oh yes.”

“He’s not a huntsman.” Coco’s voice cut sharp enough to draw blood. “He never was.”

“And that”—La Voisin’s lip curled in unconcealed disdain—“is the only reason he remains alive.”

At her aunt’s black look, Coco cleared her throat hastily. “You . . . you said Etienne isn’t dead. Does that mean you’ve found him?”

“We have not.” If possible, La Voisin’s expression further darkened, and the shadows in the tent seemed to press closer. The candles flickered. And her book—it moved. I stared at it with wide eyes. Though barely perceptible, the black cover had definitely twitched. La Voisin stroked its spine before reaching inside to remove a piece of parchment. On it, someone had drawn a crude map of La Fôret des Yeux. I leaned closer to examine it, despite my unease. Blood spatters dotted the trees of ink. “Our tracking spell revealed he is alive, but something—or someone—has cloaked his exact location.” When her black eyes fixed on mine, my chest tightened inexplicably. “We searched the general area in shifts yesterday, but he was not there. We have expanded our search tonight.”

I crossed my arms to keep from fidgeting. “Could he not have left on his own?”

“His mother and sister reside here. He would not have left without saying goodbye.”

“We all know filial relationships can be fraught—”

“He disappeared just after I agreed to meet with you.”

“A weird coincidence—”

“I don’t believe in coincidences.” She studied us impassively as we shuffled shoulder to shoulder in front of her—like naughty schoolchildren. A situation made worse by Coco and Ansel towering over me on either side. I tried and failed to stand a little taller. “Your message said you seek an alliance with our coven,” she continued. I nodded. “It said Reid Labelle journeys to La Ventre as we speak, seeking a similar alliance with the loup garou. From there, you plan to approach the king in Cesarine.”

A tendril of satisfaction curled through me. Reid Labelle. Not Reid Diggory or Reid Lyon. The name felt . . . right. Of course, if we adhered to the customs of our kin, he’d have the choice of becoming Reid le Blanc instead. If . . . if we handfasted properly, this time.

“That’s correct.”

“My answer is no.”

I blinked, startled at her abrupt dismissal, but she’d already returned her attention to the map, tucking it back within her creepy little book. Nicholina giggled. In my periphery, she held the dead rabbit by its front paws, making its limp body dance. Heat washed through me, and my hands curled into fists. “I don’t understand.”

“It is simple.” Her black eyes met mine with a calm that made me want to scream. “You will fail. I will not jeopardize my kin for your foolish quest.”

“Aunt Josephine—” Coco started, pleading, but La Voisin waved a curt hand.

“I read the portents. I will not concede.”

I struggled to keep my voice even. “Was it the rabbit’s bladder that convinced you?”

“I do not expect you to understand the burden of ruling a people. Either of you.” She glanced at Coco, arching a brow, and Coco ducked her chin. I wanted to claw out La Voisin’s eyes. “Every death in this camp is on my hands, and I cannot risk evoking Morgane’s wrath. Not for you. Not even for my niece.”

The heat in my belly built, growing hotter and hotter until I nearly burst. My voice, however, remained cold. “Why did you bring us here if you aren’t even willing to listen?”

“I owe you nothing, Louise le Blanc. Do not mistake me. You stand here—alive and well—only by my benevolence. That benevolence is quickly waning. My people and I will not join you. Knowing this, you may now leave. Cosette, however, will stay.”

And there it was. The real reason she’d brought us here—to forbid Coco from leaving.

Coco stiffened as if her aunt’s black eyes had quite literally pinned her there. “Too long you have forsaken your duties, Cosette,” La Voisin said. “Too long you have protected your enemies over your people.” She spat the last, planting her palms against the table. Her nails bit into the wood. Beside her, the black book seemed to quiver in anticipation. “It ends now. You are the Princesse Rouge, and you will act as such from this moment onward. Begin by escorting Louise and her companion from our camp.”

My jaw unlocked. “We’re not leaving—”

“Until they find Etienne,” Coco finished, straightening her shoulders. Her arm brushed mine in the barest of touches. Trust me, it seemed to say. I clamped my mouth shut again. “They want to help, tante. They’ll leave only after they’ve found him—and if they do, you’ll give them your alliance.”

“And Coco will come with us,” I added, unable to help myself. “If she so chooses.”

La Voisin’s eyes narrowed. “I have given my final word.”

Coco wouldn’t hear it, however. Though her fingers trembled slightly, she approached the table, lowering her voice. We could all still hear her. “Our magic cannot find him. Maybe hers can.” Her voice pitched lower still, but gained strength. “Together, we can defeat Morgane, tante. We can return to the Chateau. All of this—the cold, the sickness, the death—it’ll end.”

“I will not ally with enemies,” La Voisin insisted, but she cast a quick glance in my direction. Her brows furrowed. “I will not ally with werewolves and huntsmen.”

“We share a common enemy. That makes us friends.” To my surprise, Coco reached out and clutched La Voisin’s hand. Now it was the latter’s turn to stiffen. “Accept our help. Let us find Etienne. Please.”