Page 65 of A Treachery of Swans
“Aimé will be a problem,” I point out. “He saw me bleed gold right before the beast appeared. He will think it was my doing.” I rub my temples, trying not to remember the Dauphin’s screamof terror. I hadn’t seen his body after the beast’s attack—I need to believe he’s still alive.
“If that is the case,” Marie says tightly, “then we will find a way to prove your innocence. To convince Aimé to take our side.”
My chest swells with sudden gratitude. I have tried to push Marie away so many times, yet she keeps helping me, keepssavingme. I do not know what I’ve done to deserve it, and I’m certain it will not last, but I want to clutch it, white-knuckled, for as long as I can.
I slip my hand into hers, rub my thumb against her palm. Her fingers are cold, and they lie limp in mine, unresponsive.
“I’m sorry, sorciere,” she says after a moment, staring at our interlaced hands. “This was my fault, all of it. I didn’t manage to distract the Step-Queen, and everything fell apart because of me.”
I stare at her. I’m so taken aback by the fact that she isapologizingtomefor my ownhorrible planthat I bark a disbelieving laugh. “Don’t apologize to the villain, Marie. I had it coming.”
I know immediately I have said the wrong thing. Marie draws in a wet-sounding breath, and her bottom lip trembles before she presses her mouth into a tight white line.
“I wish you wouldn’t call yourself such things.”
“Why not?” I demand. “It’s the truth—Iama villain.”
“I don’t believe that.”
I snort. “Of courseyoudon’t. You’re kind and honorable and pure—it’s in your nature to see light in everyone. And it’s in my nature to be forever in the dark. I came here with the intent to steal a crown and destroy the Augier dynasty. None of it was selfless; none of it was kind. Everything I do, I do for my father’s cause. For power.”
She looks away. “Yet I wish I could be like you.”
“Why—whyeverwould you wish that? You’reperfect.”
Her eyes are murky, oceanic, tempestuous waters churning in a storm. “Perfect? I’m acoward,Odile.”
I blink, surprised by her outburst. “What?”
Marie pulls her hand out of mine, gets to her feet. “It matters not. I’m going to… to take some air.”
“Marie, wait!”
But she’s already gone.
SCENE XXIVThéâtre du Roi
The First Rays of Dawn
I find Marie d’Odette in one of the Théâtre’s galleries, staring out of a tall, narrow window. Beyond, the sky has begun to blush with the first pink of sunrise. As I watch, a gush of warm light blooms over the trees, flaring behind Marie in a halo. She stands against it, motionless and luminous, a breeze tousling her pale curls.
I hold my breath, waiting for golden magic to envelop her body, for white feathers to erupt from her shoulders. But nothing happens.
“I was right,” I whisper. “The curse is broken.”
For a moment she doesn’t reply. Gooseflesh stands stark against her skin, and I notice she is cradling a lit candle in her hands. Wax drips onto her fingers, but she seems not to feel it.
“I—I suppose so,” she says, and she doesn’t sound glad at all. She casts me a furtive glance. “Go back and rest, Odile. I’m fine.” There are tears in her eyes, glittering like diamonds. She looks anything but fine.
She looks like she wants to fly away.
I limp closer, trying not to wince at the throbbing in my side. “This is a good thing, isn’t it?” I say. “You can return to the palace and explain everything to Aimé, convince him to help us, helpme, in restoring magic. Then you’ll marry him and be queen and—”
“Do you think Iwantany of that?” Marie’s voice trembles abruptly.
I pause, taken aback. “Why wouldn’t you? You’ll have everything. Wealth, power, safety…”
“Except one thing,” she says. “Freedom.”
