“Midnight is in a few hours. And then—”
“Only one more day. I know.”
She took his big hand, pressed her lips to his knuckles, and she knew she couldn’t lose this, lose him, lose herself. “Wait here.”
She hugged her jacket closer for warmth. There was no sign of Petra or Cricket in the hall—?all the better for her to sneak outside to check her trap. Just as she was about to leave the château, something metal clattered at the opposite end of the hallway, followed by a noise like a scuffle.
She stopped. Something felt wrong.
“Cricket?” she called.
There was no answer. Something thunked in the same place and that squeeze of panic returned. “Petra? Is that you?”
She took out her knife, creeping down the dark hallway. The cold bit into the soles of her bare feet. Something thunked again—?it came from the direction of the kitchen. The door was cracked open, the smell of nutmeg drifting from it. Would Petra be making more snacks? How much cocoa could the girl seriously consume in one day?
Anouk stepped closer, the knife steady despite her erratic heartbeat. Not a mouse! she told herself.
Another step toward the kitchen.
The floorboards squeaked behind her. Wait—?behind her. She spun around, slashing with the knife.
Her blade crashed against something metal.
“Anouk. It’s me.”
Cricket had two knives raised, blocking Anouk’s knife an inch from impaling her between the eyes. Anouk had been fast, but no one was faster than Cricket.
“Merde, Cricket, sorry—”
“They got inside,” Cricket whispered.
They both lowered their knives, and Anouk whipped her head back toward the kitchen, sniffing the air. “Who?”
“Viggo and Hunter Black. I don’t know how they got past the gate. Petra’s outside in the potting shed with Mada Zola. We have to warn them.”
Anouk felt her spine go rigid. No, no, no. Toblerone was supposed to be guarding the gate. She’d used magic . . . had her trap failed? Had she made a mistake? A clammy sweat broke out on her skin.
The whites of Cricket’s eyes flashed. “Viggo’s in the kitchen. I don’t know where Hunter Black is. There’s a second staircase that runs behind the pantry and comes out by the stove, remember? I’m going to sneak up there and see if I can take him by surprise. You find Beau and then get Petra and Zola.”
“Wait.” Anouk grabbed Cricket’s sleeve. “Viggo might hear you on the stairs. Let me distract him.”
Cricket didn’t protest or laugh or tell Anouk that it was too dangerous, as Beau would have done. That was what Anouk loved about her. Cricket had never called Anouk a little mouse, not once.
“Yes, all right. Good.”
Cricket disappeared into the darkness, and Anouk brandished the knife. Took a deep breath. Count to ten. Give Cricket time to get to the other stairs. Then she’d show herself, distract Viggo . . .
She took a step toward the kitchen. Her fingertips grazed the door.
And then something was happening faster than she could process it. The door was thrust open. Viggo’s face was there, twisting from surprise to anger and back again in a flash.
“Anouk.”
On instinct, she shoved the door wide open, slamming it into his face. Blood spurted from his nose. He let out a cry as she forced her way in and ran to the far end of the table. He pressed a hand to his bloody face.
“You broke my nose!” He started for her with a growl, and she darted to the side, keeping the table between them. He went left; she went left. He stopped; she stopped. He went right; she went right.
“Goddamn it, stop—”