Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1)(131)

“Yes, you did—right through the leg. I had to track the poor creature down and put it out of its misery.”

When Beau opened his mouth to reply, eyes blazing, I turned to Reid. “Did I miss something?”

“They’ve been like this ever since we left,” Ansel said. I didn’t miss the satisfaction in his voice or the smirk on his face.

“The prince had some trouble adjusting to the wilderness,” Reid explained quietly. “Coco was . . . unimpressed.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. As the argument escalated, however—with no sign of either party backing down—I waved my hand to reclaim their attention. “Excuse me,” I said loudly. Both whirled to look at me. “As entertaining as all this is, we have more important matters to discuss.”

“Such as?” Beau snapped.

Ass. I almost grinned, but at the ferocity of Coco’s scowl, I caught myself at the last second. “We can’t hide in this forest forever. Morgane knows all your faces now, and she’ll kill every one of you for helping me escape.”

Beau scoffed. “My father will have her head on a pike when he learns what she’s planning.”

“And mine,” I said pointedly.

“Probably.”

Definite ass.

Madame Labelle sighed. “Auguste has failed to capture Morgane for decades—just as his ancestors failed to capture a single Dame des Sorcières in their long and gruesome history. It’s highly unlikely he succeeds now either. She’ll continue to remain a threat to all of us.”

“But now the Chasseurs know the location of the Chateau,” Reid pointed out.

“They still can’t enter without a witch.”

“They did before.”

“Ah . . . yes.” Madame Labelle cleared her throat delicately and looked away, smoothing her wrinkled, bloodstained skirt. “That’s because I led them to it.”

“You what?” Reid stiffened beside me, and a telltale flush crept up his throat. “You—you met with Jean Luc? Are you insane? How? When?”

“After I sent you lot off with those twittering triplets.” She shrugged, bending low to scratch the blackened log at her feet. When it moved, blinking open luminous yellow eyes, my heart nearly leapt to my throat. That wasn’t a log. That wasn’t even a cat. That—that was a—

“The matagot delivered a message to your comrades shortly after our disagreement. Jean Luc was less than pleased by a demon waltzing around in his mind, but even he couldn’t ignore the opportunity I presented him. We met on the beach outside the Chateau, and I led them within the enchantment. They were supposed to wait for my signal. When I didn’t reappear, Jean Luc took matters into his own hands.” She touched the crusty bodice of her gown as if remembering the feel of Morgane’s knife sinking into her chest. My throat throbbed with empathy. “And thank the Goddess he did.”

“Yes,” I agreed quickly before Reid could interrupt. His flush had spread from his throat to the tips of his ears during Madame Labelle’s explanation, and he looked likely to further derail the conversation by throttling someone. “But we’re worse off now than we were before.”

“Why?” Ansel’s brow wrinkled. “The Chasseurs killed dozens of witches. Surely Morgane is weaker now, at least?”

“Perhaps,” Madame Labelle murmured, “but a wounded animal is a dangerous beast.”

When Ansel still looked puzzled, I squeezed his waist. “Everything that happened—everything we did—it’ll only make her more savage. The other witches, too. This war is anything but over.”

A foreboding silence descended as my words sank in.

“Right,” Coco said, lifting her chin. “There’s only one thing for it. You’ll all come back to my coven with me. Morgane won’t be able to touch you there.”

“Coco . . .” I met her gaze reluctantly. She set her jaw and planted a hand on her hip in response. “They’re just as likely to kill us as they are to help us.”

“They won’t. You’ll be under my protection. None of my kin will dare lay a hand on you.”

There was another pause as we stared at each other.

“You don’t have many other options, Louise, dear,” Madame Labelle finally said. “Even Morgane isn’t foolhardy enough to attack you in the heart of a blood coven, and Auguste and the Chasseurs would never find you there.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Reid asked, frowning. The back of his neck nearly blended into his coppery hair, and his hands remained clenched. Tense. I coaxed his fist open with a gentle brush of my knuckle, lacing my fingers through his. He took a deep breath and relaxed slightly.

“No.” Madame Labelle swallowed hard, and the matagot rubbed its head against her knee in a startling domestic gesture. “Though it’s been years since I’ve seen him, I think . . . I think it’s finally time I had a conversation with Auguste.”

Beau frowned. “You would have to be a complete idiot to tell him you’re a witch.”

Reid and I glared at him, but Madame Labelle only lifted an elegant shoulder, unruffled. “Well, it is good I’m not a complete idiot, then. You will come with me, of course. I can’t just waltz into the castle anymore. Together, we might be able to persuade Auguste against whatever harebrained scheme he’s undoubtedly concocting.”