“Merde. The monster doesn’t have anything to do with it. I’m talking about the peasant boy. I’m that boy. And you’re the princess.”
So many thoughts were tumbling around her mind, giving her a topsy-turvy feeling that was both pleasant and unpleasant at the same time. Her face felt very warm now. She redirected the vents to blow cool air on her.
“Cabbage? Do you understand?”
The speedometer creaked up to 140 kilometers an hour.
“I’m just saying, since we might have only a few days left . . .” He gripped the wheel harder. “Merde!” He veered sharply at a sign indicating they were on the outskirts of Montélimar. The tires squealed as he pulled off the road.
Cricket woke with a start.
He slammed on the brakes. They sat on a gravel drive off the autoroute that, just ahead, was blocked by an overgrown hedge. There was no wooden fence, no iron bars. Only a ten-foot-high tangle of shrubs that extended in either direction as far as Anouk could see.
“Is this it?” Cricket said in a hushed voice.
“This is it,” Beau answered gravely. “Last chance to turn around. You’re certain about this, Anouk?”
The clock kept turning in that endless circle, tick by tick by tick by tick. Anouk brushed a hand at her throat until she found her gold chain necklace. Certain? She’d never been less certain of anything in her life. “I’m . . . sure.”
The three of them stared at the green wall. On the other side of the densely woven branches would be the ancient and imposing Château des Mille Fleurs. The fortress of flowers. The Montélimar prison of the second most powerful witch in France.
Well, now the first.
What were you reaching out here for, Luc? Anouk asked silently. What did you hope to find?
“When we get in there,” Cricket muttered from the back seat, “no one drink the tea. We don’t want to end up like the Goblins.”
Chapter 12
Two Days and Five Hours of Enchantment Remain
Anouk rolled down her window and was immediately overcome by the scent of lavender, with its delicate notes of camphor and pine. Luc was always saying lavender had a calming effect, but she didn’t feel calmer in the slightest.
Cricket leaned between the front seats, chewing a fresh stick of gum, staring up at the hedge wall. “So how do we get in?”
Beau regarded the hedge as though at any moment branches with woody fingers would reach out and grab the silver hood ornament. “When I came here before, Mada Vittora had me leave her at the gate and wait in town for her signal to pick her up. I can’t imagine she climbed the hedges in the heels she always wore. There must be some trick to get through.” He patted the steering wheel fondly. “Besides, we can’t leave the car. We might need to get away fast.”
Cricket opened her door. “Well, we didn’t come all this way to get stopped by shrubbery.”
She climbed out and Anouk and Beau followed, leaving their doors open, the engine still running, just in case. The hedge extended in either direction, broken only by weeds and a small copse of stunted cork trees near the side of the road. The three approached the hedge as one might a sleeping bear: no sudden movements, expecting the worst, ready to run.
“Anouk, stay back.” Beau dug out one of the umbrellas from the car and poked at the closest branch with the pointy end. When nothing attacked him, he grabbed a branch and tried to pry it back, but it didn’t budge.
A dragonfly fluttered past Anouk’s face, gossamer wings tickling her cheek. She waved it away and watched it fly in lazy circles toward a small, rusted metal box half hidden by overgrown weeds.
“Hey,” she said. “Look.”
She tromped through the scratchy weeds and pushed them away from the box. It looked like the antique brass call boxes she’d seen on neighboring townhouses, though this one was long neglected. Cricket stomped over, swatting away gnats, and frowned at the box.
“That’s Pretty technology,” she said. “It isn’t of the Haute.”
“Well, we might as well try it,” Beau said. “We aren’t getting past those hedges, that’s for sure.” He bent to inspect the ornate brass scrollwork. “What do we do?”
“I’m no expert, but I’m guessing we push that button that says Push.”
“Wow, thanks, Cricket. I meant what are we supposed to say if someone answers? They won’t let us in if we tell them we’re fugitives suspected of murder.”
“So say it’s a delivery.”