Nicolas braced a hand on the table.
“We must save her.”
“The Banewights’ authority overrules that of any king, emperor, or priest,” Nicolas replied. “I cannot order them to set her free.”
Quinn stomped forward. “They’re going to kill her. That could be your wife out there.”
“But it isn’t. Florence put herself forward to protect Alana. She should have taken care not to be caught—”
“The Banewights remained because of me.”My hands flew, smacking against each other in outrage.“The crows are drawn to me, Nicolas. Perhaps because my power is growing. I don’t know. I need Florence to guide me, and she’s counting on us to help her.”
“Let’s say wedofree the Maitre,” Nicolas growled. “Then the whole of Gallae would know her identity. She would have to flee to Hadria. You would be suspected of aiding her escape; it wouldn’t be safe for you here anymore. Where would you go? Would you live out your days in Pontarena, subject to my occasional visit? We both know that wouldn’t be enough for you, Alana. I—”
“This isn’t about us!”I grabbed the other end of the table, baring my teeth.“Damn you and our marriage; a life is at stake!”
“Alana—” Quinn started.
“Damn our marriage?” asked Nicolas. “Would you damn Juliana, too, while you’re at it?”
I shook the table, and he stepped back. The anger that had boiled over quickly settled, and Nicolas lowered his head.
“I’m sorry you’re losing a friend,” he said gently. “I’m sorry that, for all the power the crown provides, I cannot help you the one time you’ve asked for it. If killing the Banewights would solve this, I would take their heads myself…but that would spark a religious war, a rebellion, and likely much worse. Would you do that to save your friend?”
My head ached with pressure, overwhelmed by stress and mounting grief.
“Assassination attempts would become frequent. Juliana’s life would be at risk.” He put his hand on top of mine. I pulled back. “I’m sorry, Alana.”
“There must be something, Nic,” Quinn begged. “I could free Florence, take her back to Hadria. Blame me. Name me an enemy of the crown and exile me. Tell the world that I was a secessionist, that I was trying to use Florence to usurp you.”
I turned to Quinn with exasperation, but Nicolas scoffed. “Ask my wife if she would trade your companionship for the life of her friend if it meant she could never see you again.”
Quinn’s brow furrowed. “Of course she would.”
“Don’t speak for her. Ask her.”
The viscount caught me mid-deliberation. My cheeks flushed as I realized how long it had taken me to draw my conclusion. Obviously Iwouldsacrifice my friendship with Quinn if it meant Florence escaped with her life, no matter how it hurt.
“Alana?” Quinn whispered.
“I would,”I answered.“Naturally.”
Nicolas crossed his arms. “Now ask the viscount if he would do the same. Would he risk never seeing you again?”
My eyes narrowed, but just to prove a point, I turned to Quinn, lifting my hands, and stalled. His eyes were rounded, fixed on me with pained consideration.
“Quinn?”
He opened his mouth, a small croak leaving his throat.
Then, slowly, he shook his head. “No.”
Nicolas lowered his eyes. All the cards were on the table now, face up, and he said nothing to address it; he’d been the one to flip them. If he couldn’t be the hero, he made it blatantly apparent that Quinn couldn’t be, either. It was a pyrrhic victory, one that exposed all of us to each other and ourselves.
He backed away, covering part of his face with his palm.
“It won’t take long for them to get that pyre assembled. I suggest we take some time to compose ourselves,” he said. “Perhaps your parents could watch Juliana tonight, Alana."
I couldn't bring myself to nod.
