Rennar blocked the doorway before she could run to him. “I will make you a promise, little beasties,” he said. “I’ll keep you from turning back into animals. I don’t need the spell hidden in that broom handle; the words are already carved into the flesh of my tongue. And I’ll do more than that. I’ll use every spy in the Haute to find your gardener friend before midnight, and I’ll keep him human too.”
Anouk glanced at Beau. “I’m afraid of the price of an offer like that.”
“There’s no catch,” the prince replied.
Beau said from his cage, “There’s always a catch.”
The prince smiled joylessly. “I’ve been alive a long time. I have amassed lifetimes of knowledge and experience, but that doesn’t come without a cost. I’ve lost perspective. We need new blood in the Haute. A new way of seeing.”
He was looking at Anouk.
The wind had died, and the stillness in the air made the moment feel caught in time, as though they had stepped into a pocket-world that was just large enough for the three of them. She could feel energy thrumming in the prince’s movements, but it was tightly contained. Everything about him whispered control. Maybe that was the problem, she thought. Too much control made for a rigid heart. Hearts were made to beat steadily, yes, but they were also meant to tremble. How long had it been since something had caused Prince Rennar’s heartbeat to falter?
“I went about this all wrong,” he continued. “I see now that you aren’t meant to be caged. But you must understand that I had no way of knowing you would be any different from the original beasties. Your magic is everything I ever wanted and more. You are powerful, Anouk. With the right training, you could help restore the balance. If you think I’m out of touch, show me. If you think I am cold, teach me. Make me remember what it feels like to see the world as you do, full of beauty and hope. In return, you will no longer need to fear midnight, not any of you.”
He looked as he had the first time she’d seen him, not the handsome prince in a portrait but the boy in a scarf standing on a Paris street. That boy was still there, somewhere, that spell-scribe who had written the beastie spell in hopes of creating a better world.
“As long as we agree to be your monsters,” she countered.
“Monsters? No. I want you to be something far more dangerous.” Somehow, in the space of a heartbeat, he was by her side, so close that she could feel the crackling energy in his body, not so tightly coiled now. Behind him, Beau was an angry, trapped shadow.
“And what is that?”
“Princess of the Haute.”
Chapter 28
Seven Hours of Enchantment Remain
Anouk stared at him as though she hadn’t heard correctly. Days ago, she’d been on her hands and knees scrubbing biscuit crumbs from between kitchen tiles. Her dreams had felt big and impossible—?walking in Paris arm in arm with someone, like the Pretties did, making a wish on the fountain. Dreams that felt childish now that the prince of the Shadow Royals was offering her an entire kingdom.
“A political arrangement,” he continued. “The same proposal I had discussed with Mada Zola, but of course, now I see how much more suitable a partner you would be. The ways of the Shadow Royals are ancient but effective; we will rule side by side, equals in all things. I’ll teach you to develop your magic. You’ll show me how not to misuse my own.”
For a second, he looked as though he wanted to take the beastie spell from her broom and fold it between their palms, the spell that would bind them forever. But he didn’t.
“Anouk, don’t listen to him!” Beau called from the other room. He was gripping the bars with white knuckles, but she couldn’t go to him while the prince blocked the doorway.
“No cages,” Prince Rennar said temptingly in a quiet voice meant only for her. “No banishments. No chains. Say the word, and the chauffeur is free.”
“And what of love?”
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s up to you.”
She didn’t trust him. Of course she didn’t. Even if he wasn’t intentionally lying to her, his mind was as twisted by the vitae echo as the witches’ had been. He might say he wanted equality and mean it, but like shifting winds, he might just as easily change his mind.
And of course, there was Beau. The few kisses they’d shared might mean little to the young Pretties who gave out kisses like corner-store candy, but what they had was more delicate, more complex, like a chocolate soufflé: it was just as sweet, but you had to take your time and pay attention to it or it would collapse in a spectacular mess.
And yet, if she refused the prince, would she—?all of them—?end up animals forever?
Rennar was offering her a chance to save herself and her friends. Like in one of Luc’s fairy tales, where a girl made a deal with Death but found that the deal was riddled with catches. I thought there was nothing worse than dying, the girl said. I was wrong.
“Don’t do it, Anouk,” Beau called again.
From somewhere, a clock was ticking. How many hours did they have left? Six? Five?
A spider crawled across the floor. She couldn’t stop staring at it, trying to remember what life felt like when the only things that mattered were fear and hunger. She’d led them here. She’d convinced them to risk everything, and now the decision rested in her hands once more. Did she resist and risk returning to that? Or obey and live?
Rennar had his back to Beau; he didn’t see Beau reach between the bars for the spider. Anouk felt a flash of danger. What crazy idea had gotten into his head? His fist closed around the spider and he shut his eyes and popped it into his mouth.