They turned and made their way back through the winding streets toward Castle Ides. She thought of the kitchens there, the library, the enormous bedrooms and bathrooms. A princess could live a comfortable life there. A witch could study magic for centuries in that library. But the beastie in her craved only a cozy bed and a good book, Beau at her side, the smell of herbs and the scent of adventure in the air.
Cricket sighed sadly. “Luc would have turned this into a fairy tale.”
“He still might,” Beau said. “We just have to wait for the next snow.”
Hunter Black walked ahead of them, scanning the street, always protecting his motley family, and behind them was the shadow of the falcon. Anouk had a feeling it would always be hanging just over her shoulder wherever she went.
They made their way through London, passing Pretties going about their Pretty lives, passing the occasional Goblin roaring by on a motorcycle, to Omen House. Hunter Black checked for any signs of ambush, then gave them the all-clear. Cricket rolled her eyes, telling him what a paranoid salaud he could be. Anouk led Beau to the door but paused before following him inside.
A strange string of words ruffled through her mind, the ones she’d whispered under her breath while trapping the Noirceur in its new vessel. Cricket seemed to notice and fell in step with Anouk.
Cricket spoke in a low voice. “You’re certain that it worked? Our . . . plan?”
Anouk remembered the feeling she’d gotten when the Noirceur had been transferred out of the clocks and into the new vessel—?like the world had become a giant kaleidoscope that radiated out its power in a burst of colored light.
“It worked.”
“Word will spread. Everyone within the Haute will soon think that the Noirceur is trapped in the Heart of Alexandrite, barricaded within the museum. Let anyone try to steal it. Ha! I’d like to see them get past the spells I put up. Even if they did, imagine their faces when they realized the Noirceur wasn’t contained in the jewel at all. Only you and I know the truth.”
Anouk nodded. On the rooftop, she’d suggested a crazy plan to Cricket: In order to truly contain the Noirceur, it needed to be trapped in something that could never be stolen. Not an object. Rather, in a concept. The original Royals had been clever to trap it in time, but time manifested itself in too many ways. Anouk had a better idea. Trap it in language. She’d always been fascinated by spells, and at the Cottage she’d learned powerful words of the Selentium Vox. She realized it was possible to trap the Noirceur in specific words, nothing that might accidentally pop up in a book or conversation and once more awaken the chaos. It wasn’t until Hunter Black had shared his vision with her that she’d realized what words to use. He didn’t know what Queen Mid Ruath’s song to the stones meant, but she did.
Baz perrik, baz mare, baz teri,
en utidrava aedenum sa nav.
Words only she knew, a song unique to her. In that way, she was the guardian of the Noirceur. And meanwhile, if everyone believed it was trapped in the Heart of Alexandrite, no one would bother to look for it elsewhere.
“Thanks for your help,” Anouk said.
“That’s what thieves are for.”
Ahead, Beau stood in the open doorway, head turned toward her but eyes distant. “Are you two coming?”
Behind her, the falcon cawed sharply. She stared at the bird’s fathomless dark eyes. He stared back.
“Yes, Beau. I’m coming.”
They entered Omen House and joined the other beasties in the elevator. She was the highest-ranking Royal of all the Haute now. Kings and queens would bow at her command. The elevator dinged on the top floor, and they stepped out, leaving London behind and crossing the enchanted threshold back into the penthouse floor. Paris. The glittering skyline showed the Eiffel Tower and a sea of rose-colored lights. She couldn’t help but feel that even though she was a princess and a witch now, they would still be bowing to a maid. But maybe being a nobody wasn’t so bad. What had power ever brought anyone except ruin?
She pressed her hand against the window.
It was a beautiful city. A beautiful world. Maybe there were more beasties out there, living beyond the oversight of the Haute. Maybe they would find them. Maybe they’d figure out what path was theirs to walk. Or maybe, as Beau kept insisting, they would simply pile into the kitchen, he and Anouk and Cricket and Hunter Black, cut fat slices of strawberry cake, summon snow in the dessert pantry, and listen to Luc tell them stories about animals who turned into servants who turned into heroes who forged themselves into a family.