“No—?you do. If you’re going to go through with this insane plan to storm Montélimar and fight off both Zola and Rennar, you’ll need powerful magic on your side. Blood magic.” He looked theatrically over his left shoulder and then his right. “I don’t see any other humans around here willing to siphon off pints of blood for you.”

He was right, Anouk realized. They had Goblin numbers, but the Royals were experts in manipulating magic. The few simple whispers she could do would be nothing against them. The contra-beastie spell required powerful ingredients, the most rare of which was six pints of blood. Which meant there was only one way they might prevail: by exploiting the fact that Rennar’s and Zola’s magic had limits. The vitae echo. She didn’t have that limit.

“But we’d need half your blood,” she said. “That could kill you.”

He tossed back a lock of dark hair. “Possibly.”

She narrowed her eyes at his cavalier attitude. “Why would you risk that for us? After everything I did to you—?the spell?”

“Yes, the spell,” he said, his dark eyes cold. “That damn spell that wasn’t about love at all, but manipulation. True love has to be as equals. Two people who come together willingly. Love isn’t about possession.” He paused dramatically. “It’s about sacrifice.”

He was staring at Cricket, and she didn’t look impressed.

She said coldly, “Is this when you tell me that through the curse of the spell, you’ve actually learned the true meaning of love?”

“Well—?merde. I’ve been planning that speech all the way down here.”

She rolled her eyes. “He hasn’t changed at all.”

“I have,” he said, and for once, he sounded sincere. “I understand now that what I felt for you wasn’t love. It was obsession. It wasn’t until Anouk made me her love captive that I realized that’s never what I’d want for you. Do I really love you? Alors, I don’t know. I’m not certain I’m even capable of love. Mommy issues and all.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, this is what I’m offering. My blood, maybe even my life. And you’d better say yes before all that wine I drank twenty minutes ago wears off and I stop feeling so damn heroic.”

Cricket still didn’t smile, though she hadn’t reached for her blades, which was at least one promising sign.

“I’m sorry, Cricket. I was an ass.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Apology accepted, but if you think there is even a slight chance that I’ll love you back after all this is over, you’re wrong.”

“Well, chances are high that I’ll be dead anyway.”

“So what does this mean?” Tenpenny said.

Anouk turned to him. “It means you have about an hour to wake the rest of the Goblins and be ready. We have an errand to run. Pick us up outside 18 Rue des Amants in one hour.”

Tenpenny consulted his watch.

“One hour, dearie. Tick-tock.”

Chapter 34

Twenty Hours of (New) Enchantment Remain

It was still raining in the streets of Paris. A light mist cast an orb around each of the streetlights, and as they hurried along the thoroughfares, Anouk felt how fiercely she loved this city. All those nights sitting in her turret window and watching the Pretty World outside, she had wondered if she’d ever be a part of it. If her feet would ever stroll these streets, if she’d ever look up at the glowing moon. She had wondered if it could possibly be as perfect as she imagined or if a rock would always be in her shoe on that stroll, if smog would always obscure the moon.

And it was true, there were rocks and there was smog, but there were also stars. The city was like life itself: good and bad, pretty and ugly, kindness and cruelty all in one. But most important, it simply was. And that felt like a kind of magic too.

Rue des Amants was quiet in the early-morning hours. A wealthy neighborhood filled with townhouses used only part of the year by residents who also lived in Switzerland and New York and Monaco. It lacked the vibrancy of the Latin Quarter, where students quoted Descartes at all-night cafés and music hummed in the street.

Their footsteps echoed off the quiet townhouses as they passed rows of black cars. Anouk stopped at the sad little tree in front of number eighteen.

“No one bothered to water it?” Luc asked accusingly.

“I couldn’t cross the threshold,” Anouk reminded him.

It felt strange to reenter the townhouse. She had never come in through the front door, and as she stepped inside with the oubliette in hand, she pictured herself here just three days ago, eager to serve and stow away the oubliette. She marveled at how simple life had been then. How little she’d known. And yet how wildly she’d dreamed.

She bent down and picked up her old hair ribbon.

“Her body?” Luc asked.

Tags: Megan Shepherd Grim Lovelies Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net