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Weeks. Not forever. But weeks gave us time.

Yves was already examining the pipes running along the wall behind me. “Can you break one?” I asked.

“Darling, I can break them all.” A smile tipped up one corner of his mouth. “Get out of the room.”

I retraced my steps, tiptoeing past him and shuffling along the wall. Once I was clear of the spell lines and standing in the dark corridor, Yves yanked on the largest pipe, tearing it from the iron bracket with a shriek of metal that I felt in my teeth.

“Be ready to run,” he told me before he punched a hole in the metal.

The noise was enormous. Water sprayed from the hole like a geyser, smacking against the far wall, filling the air with spray. White steam hissed from spell lines as water flooded the carvings. I stood there as water raced over the tips of my boots, watching until the red light faded from every line.

A coldness went through me as the light left the last crystal. It came up through my ribs, like ice water filling me from the inside out, and I struggled to draw in a full breath. But almost as soon as the feeling came, it was gone.

The spell was broken. We’d done it.

Yves put his fist through another pipe, and a torrent of water exploded out, drenching him through his clothing.

“Go!” he shouted.

I didn’t move until he was past the door. I had to know he was safe. I had to know I hadn’t led him into danger and left him trapped.

As soon as he was out of the room, Yves grabbed my hand to pull me back down the flooding corridor, but I hesitated.

“Cora, we need to leave.”

The water was rising quickly, but I surged back into the room and yanked the knife free from where it had been sticking out of the stone. It was Honora’s. It didn’t feel right to leave it here.

By the time we reached the stairs, the water was already shin-deep. We climbed until we were at the top of the stairwell, both of us soaking wet and breathing hard.

Yves wrapped an arm around my shivering frame, hugging me against him.

I didn’t know what had happened to Honora or her daughter, and even if I wanted to, I couldn’t help them now. But as I stared into the rising water, dagger in hand, I was filled with pure satisfaction.

Justice. This was justice.

Chapter 41

Méfiante

CORA

When we arrived back at Château du Mer, Yves had the driver take us to the eastern gate overlooking the private docks, where Severin was waiting. Tall and pale, with his black hair swept neatly back.

Yves usually relaxed when he saw his nephew. Tonight, nothing in his expression eased. Someone had put Hartley in Widow Martell’s that night. Someone who sent him unsigned letters, money, and orders, and who had known enough about me to describe me.

And Severin received an awful lot of letters.

His father wrote from Mistfall twice a week, always sealing his letters in dark purple wax. A footman had nearly told me who else wrote to him before Severin appeared and shut him up. I had even bribed a maid to find out more information, but she had yet to report back.

Maybe she had learned nothing, or maybe Severin had frightened her into keeping her mouth shut.

For a man who had Yves’s trust and supposedly knew everything that happened in Valemer, he had a blind spot when it came to The Devouring. It wasn’t proof that Severin was guilty, but he had been an ass to me since the day we met, so I wasn’t inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He peered his long nose inside the carriage, and his nostrils flared.

“Adrien?” Yves asked. “Where is he?”

“And Della?” I added. After what I’d seen in that vault beneath the pump room, I wanted to see my familiar.