He took hold of the arrow and snapped it from his flesh. Witha passing glare at Constantino, he threw the broken shaft to the ground. With an arrogant lift of his chin, Bastien flicked his fingers. The doors yawned open in welcome and, once he had passed through, slammed shut in his wake.
“That—that didn’t work,” Constantino stammered, throttling his bow as if the weapon had betrayed him. “Why didn’t that work? I’m blessed byTyrr.”
“Blessed to capture monsters,” Fitcher said darkly. “But he is once more a man.”
“Men can die,” said Constantino. “That should have killed him!”
“And if he’s alive again,” Armand said quietly, “how is he still controlling the house?”
“He was always a powerful sorcerer,” said Mallory, bending over her sister to feel for a pulse. A collection of glass souvenirs tumbled from Anaïs’s pockets, spilling onto the cobbles. Mallory blinked at the tiny monster figurines. A salamander, a lou carcolh, a cheval mallet…
Tokens from Constantino’s haul, which she assumed her sister had taken when he wasn’t paying attention. Her penchant for pretty, unusual things…
“Are those mine?” said Constantino. “Did she steal those from me?”
Ignoring him, Mallory leaned her ear against Anaïs’s chest, relieved to hear a faint heartbeat. “She’s alive.”
She sat back on her heels, trying to think.Think.Five vows, five sacrifices, five betrayals of trust…
And now that sorcerer, that murderer, that monster… was immortal.
An earsplitting crack drew her attention back to the fountain.
The horse and rider were moving. The horse’s front hooves pawed at the air and let out a bellow. The count in the saddle swung his sword in an arc overhead.
Mallory screamed. Constantino jumped forward and scooped Anaïs into his arms, pulling her off the lip of the fountain.
The stone horse surged off its pedestal, splashed through the pool of blood, and stampeded toward them. Its hooves pounded through the puddles left from the storm and crushed one of the glass figurines, inches from where Anaïs’s head had been.
Barely missing Armand’s neck with his swinging sword, the rider pulled back on the reins, swiveling the horse to face them. Though cast in stone, the rider’s passive expression had become hostile.
But Mallory found her attention diverted to something just as horrifying and… fantastical.
Where the horse had crushed the small figurine, a beast was emerging. Eight feet tall, with claws and fur and fangs and…
“Is that…” Armand whispered.
“The voirloup?” she said in disbelief.
“Oh, right,” said Constantino, still cradling Anaïs’s unconscious body. “They do that.”
The count heeled the sides of the horse, who broke into a gallop, charging for them again. They scattered in different directions.
“You know what would be useful right now?” Constantino yelled. “If one of us could magically transform into an enormous bear!”
Fitcher glowered at him. “It doesn’t happen on command.”
“I know that! But it should!”
The rider whirled around and chased after Armand, face contorted with rage.
But as the horse drove past the voirloup, the beast roared and leaped, knocking the rider off his steed. Both rider and horse fell—and shattered. Marble and debris flew across the hard pavers of the courtyard.
The voirloup landed hard on its side, startled that its prey had not been edible flesh.
Mallory froze. If the voirloup saw her running, she knew it would give chase.
Suddenly regretting not taking the sword that had killed Gabrielle, Mallory faced the beast. Her hand searched for the knife, before she remembered throwing it at one of Bastien’s apparitions.
