She leveled a hard glare at him. “You need me because I can wield magic with no consequences. But look at me. Look at the scars. I used a mending spell for buttons to sew up this wound. That’s the best I can do.” She didn’t try to hide her arm this time. “Did you never wonder why I kept trying to leave? Why I kept fighting your crows?” Her eyes flashed. “I was going to the Cottage.”
“The Schwarzwald?” he scoffed. “That’s an awful idea.”
“It’s a place where Pretty girls go to become witches.”
“It’s a place where Pretty girls go to die. No, it’s impossible. I won’t allow it.”
Her pulse raced. She didn’t dare look at him for fear that his piercing gaze would see straight into her heart, see that, yes, she’d heard the stories, she knew the risks, and she was just as afraid as she should be.
“I need strong magic, Rennar. Witch magic. Without it, I can’t turn back Beau and Cricket and Luc and Hunter Black, and I can’t fight the Coven of Oxford.”
He scowled. “You’ve never been to the Cottage. I have. Royals from all the near realms travel there every wintertide to witness girls die in the Coal Baths.”
“I know about the Coal Baths.”
“You may have heard of them, but no stories match the reality. The ceremony lasts three days. There’s a feast the night before for the girls who are about to risk their lives, and then in the morning, we light the blue flames and observe as the acolytes enter, one by one. The odds are bleak. Most years, only one out of ten girls survives. Some years, none at all. The rest burn so completely that even their bones vanish. And do you know what we do while this is happening? We drink wine. We eat chocolate Bethmännchen. Because we’ve seen so many girls die, Anouk, it means nothing to us. The only time we care is when one survives, because then we can use her. Every realm wants the loyalty of a fresh witch.”
Anouk traced the stitching on her arm. It might have been rough, but it had done the job. “My chances are as good as anyone’s. Better. I can already do some tricks and whispers.”
He hesitated, then shook his head. “Magic won’t save you from the Coals. That isn’t how they work. Perhaps if you had years to study there, or even months. But wintertide is in six weeks. It’s impossible.”
“They said it was impossible for a beastie to cast spells. They said it was impossible to stand up to Mada Zola at Montélimar.” She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you need to reconsider your use of that word.”
He stepped as close to her as the protection spell allowed. “Come with me, Anouk. I’ll train you myself.” He held out his hand. The same one that had imprisoned her friends.
Her own hands curled at her sides. “No. It’s my turn to make you a deal. Give me my friends back. Call off your crows. Grant me safe passage to the Cottage. I’ll undergo the Baths and I’ll survive. Then, when I am a witch, I’ll help you with London.”
Slowly, he paced, barefoot, his marble foot scuffing against the stone step. “I am fond of deals,” he said at last, “but I’ll counter yours with my own. There are three beasties you care about in my possession, so I will make you three bargains. If Viggo and your Goblin guests come with me as collateral, I’ll free Luc and turn him human. If you become a witch and swear loyalty to my realm, I’ll free Hunter Black and turn him human. If you agree to become my princess, I’ll free Cricket.”
“And turn her human.”
“By then, you’ll be a witch. You’ll be powerful enough to turn her back yourself.”
Anouk narrowed her eyes, trying to find a trap in his words. “Why do you care if I’m your princess? We don’t need to be married to work together.”
His eyes flashed. “Royal weddings happen rarely. When one does, not only must all Courts send a delegation to attend, but they also are bound to grant the new couple a Nochte Pax—?think of it as a wedding gift. If we’re going to achieve our goal, we’ll need the help of the other Royals. They won’t be able to refuse our Nochte Pax request.”
“A political arrangement, then.” She hesitated. “Nothing more?”
A heavy moment of silence hung between them.
Then his lips quirked in a half grin. “Let’s just say nothing more would be required, but everything is up for negotiation.”
“If you think you’d get as much as a kiss from me, you’re wrong. But a strictly political union—?if it will force the Royals to help us—?maybe.” She glanced at the front window, where the dog still had his nose against the glass. “And you wouldn’t try to stop me from turning Beau back if I become a witch?”
He grumbled in annoyance. “If you must.”
She hesitated. On the other side of the window, Viggo was shaking his head and mouthing something that looked like No, you idiot, whatever he’s offering, say no. But Viggo didn’t know that the Coven of Oxford had cut off London and were aiming for Paris next. Viggo hadn’t peered into the darkest corners of her heart, didn’t know how much she wanted—?needed—?witch magic.
Rennar looked at her intensely. “Well?”
She said quietly, “Okay.”
“Okay?” A glimpse of pleasant surprise crossed his face, but then that arrogant mask slipped back over it. He jerked his chin toward the mirror. “Keep that, then.”
“So you can spy on me?”
“Yes, exactly, and don’t act surprised. I need to know that you’re holding up your end of the bargain. I can see you through this mirror. I’ll know when you’ve made it to the Cottage