Midnight Beauties (Grim Lovelies 2)

Esme rested a hand on Anouk’s shoulder. “You’re the only one who hasn’t decided on her crux, Anouk. Some witches say that it was during the firewalk that it came to them, like a flash of lightning. This could be your chance.”

It could be her only chance.

Anouk tossed aside her blanket and stepped onto the coals. They hissed as they burned off the wet snow that had been giving her feet a small bit of protection. Heat radiated upward around her. She clenched her jaw and took another step. Miraculously, she didn’t burn. The coals felt rough beneath her feet, hot but not scalding. She walked with quick, light steps. The other girls cheered her on in hushed whispers. She grinned. It really wasn’t that difficult. Then the sound of barking, close and fierce, ripped apart her concentration.

She stopped.

Little Beau was loose in the courtyard. He was by the gardening shed, with his head tilted up toward the falling snow. He was howling, howling, howling. Anouk saw it in a flash. It didn’t seem real. Like a vision. She looked up in the direction he was howling, squinting into the falling snow. A bird was flying overhead. Its shape was just a dark shadow, and for a second Anouk thought it was one of Rennar’s crows, but then she heard the faintest tinkling sound. A bell. It was Saint.

It all happened in a split second. But that was a split second longer than it was wise to stand on burning coals. Pain suddenly shot through her feet, and the vision—?if it was a vision—?disappeared. All she saw was red. She threw a hand over her mouth, stifling a scream, and sprinted the last yard. She plunged her feet into a snowbank, fell back, and stared up at the sky, breathing hard.

The other girls surrounded her.

“Are you okay?”

“Why’d you stop?”

“How did Little Beau get free?”

She sat up abruptly. So it wasn’t a vision. Little Beau ran up and licked her cheek. She grabbed him by the scruff of his neck to make sure he was real. Despite her burned feet and the cold snow seeping into the rest of her, she suddenly grinned.

“Oh Lord, she’s lost her mind,” Karla lamented.

“No,” Anouk said, grinning wider. “Little Beau just showed me my crux.”

Chapter 13

Esme bandaged Anouk’s feet. Petra helped her hobble up to bed. But even with their ministrations, it was ten days before Anouk could walk again. They told the Duke she’d fallen ill after eating poison sumac while trying to find her crux, and he hadn’t questioned it. Petra kept her informed as the preparations intensified. Every morning, a near-constant string of enchanted Pretties arrived with mules laden down with supplies: Boxes of dried rose petals that they were ordered to sprinkle around the entire abbey. A hundred silver place settings, enough for everyone in all of the eight Courts, and a hundred crystal wine goblets. Crates of Anjou pears, Majorcan oysters, cured Spanish ham, champagne bottles packed in straw. The pantry was overflowing with fresh ingredients from all corners of the globe. The dessert pantry—?usually used to store potatoes—?now actually contained chocolate and marzipan and Madagascar vanilla.

Once Esme declared Anouk healed, she peeled off her bandages and carefully tested out the tender soles of her feet.

“Not a moment too soon,” Petra observed coolly. “The Royals will be here in three days and it wouldn’t look good to have you hobbling around.” She leaned forward. “Come on, tell us. What’s this crux that you discovered in a fit of burning feet? You’d better dig around the storerooms and get a sample.”

“It isn’t in the storerooms.”

“Everything’s in the storerooms. The Duke has fossils of ancient creatures I didn’t think actually existed. There are seeds from some bizarre fruit tree that went extinct centuries ago. Thank God my crux isn’t anything rare. Could you imagine if your connection to magic was something that existed only on, like, one random island?”

Anouk slid on her shoes, wincing slightly, then belted her dress with a rope. “Is the Duke in his study?”

Esme raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t trust any Royals.”

“I don’t.”

She gave the two of them a wry smile and then gingerly made her way through the dormitory hallways and down to the private wing that housed the Duke’s chambers. Through a window outside his study, she caught a glimpse of the courtyard. The coals were now almost as fine as sand; they glittered beneath the sun. The ground had been freshly swept, and chairs—?more like thrones—?were arranged in front of the coals. Frederika was out there now, dragging freshly cut hemlock branches into a pile, and Lise was shoveling snow.

Anouk took a deep breath and knocked on the Duke’s door.

There was a pause, and then: “Come in, beastie. I’ve been waiting.”

Anouk had never seen the Duke’s private study. The only ones allowed inside were Marta, to feed Saint, and Heida and Lise, to clean. Anouk blinked, surprised by the sudden opulence. Glittering gold goblets, velvet drapes, and the books! Row after row of books, each bound in rich leather, lovingly cared for, books that looked far more valuable than the ones in the library that she and Marta had thumbed through.

Her gaze settled on Saint, perched on a stand at the end of the bookshelves, the golden bell around his neck.

The Duke was seated at his desk, writing something. He stood when she entered. “You’re surprised by what you see.” He motioned to the glitz. “It is not my choice. I prefer a simpler atmosphere. It is strange for a Shadow Royal not to care about pretty things, I know, but they are merely artifacts entrusted to my care. If I could, I’d ship all of them back to Castle Ides.” He paused. “Except the books. Those cou

ld stay. Tell me, are you feeling better? Poison sumac, was it?”

His gaze was firmly planted on her feet in a knowing way. She cleared her throat and eyed Saint. “Yes . . . poison sumac. But I came to ask for help. The ceremony is in three days and I’m still not certain what my crux is.”