Page 59 of The False Vow

Without slowing—Clio was near enough that I could make out the pant of her breathing now, Eliot not far behind her—I reached over and grabbed Noé’s hand. “Can you trust me?”

He faltered at my touch, then lifted his gaze toward mine. I almost stumbled at the look in his eyes. The wariness I’d anticipated was absent; his jaw was set, his features firm as though his mind was already made up. “Yes,” he breathed.

I squeezed his fingers harder. Facing straight forward again, I yanked on my Wit, throwing it out through the estate. It scuttled forward eagerly, like a creature on a leash, latching on to the nearest door.

With effort, I shoved it farther. Past the hall we were in, out into the maze of the house, to doors I could not see but only knew from my previous encounters with them…

When I found the one I was looking for, I paused, then pulled as hard as I was able.

My muscles screamed as my Wit bit down. The world vanished. When it reappeared, Noé and I were lingering, half crouched, in the shadow of the open library doors, several corridors away from where we’d been moments prior.

I bit back a grin. I’d done it. I’d reached for the entrance in the same manner I’d done with Mireille minutes prior, and it had responded, plucking me and Noé up from where we’d been and ushering us across its threshold. And even better—

Clio and Eliot were nowhere to be seen.

“Tamerlane!” Noé caught me as I sagged against him, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. My very organs felt sore from the use of my Wit, my tendons pounded flat. “We’re nearly there,” he murmured, holding me up. “Just—follow me.”

I did, slowly. Step by step, we inched our way through the darkened house. The area we were in was silent and still, no witches appearing to race down the murky corridor toward us. Nearly there. I repeated the words in my head until they lost meaning. We’d nearly won—

“Dammit.” I swore as, from around the bend in the hall ahead of us, Clio and Eliot appeared, breathing hard. The dark-haired silkwitch lifted her head as she spotted me, triumphant. Perfect tracking. Clio’s Wit—she must have used it to tail us, monitoring our location even after we’d relocated and determining how to cut us off. It was the same method she’d applied against me in the tunnels of Fortblanche during the Vainglory’s final trial.

Then I’d bested her. I had a worrying suspicion my luck wouldn’t hold today.

Clio lunged for me in the same second that Noé lurched toward her. Moving swiftly, Eliot interceded, tackling his former friend and pinning him to the wall.

He growled out a command. “Keep your hands off my fiancée.”

“Eliot.” Noé panted the name, his eyes on me. I’d dodged Clio’s initial assault, but barely; now the two of us scrabbled on the ground, each trying to best the other. “Let me go.”

At the desperation in his voice, Eliot hesitated. Despite everything, I felt my chest squeeze as he glanced in my direction, then back toward Noé again.

“She’s playing a game,” he said. His tone was confused. “Allow her to play it.”

I almost laughed as the realization struck. He thinks this is all in jest. Eliot had broken off our relationship before I’d ever had the chance to tell him about the deal Bastian had offered my bridesmaids. The target he’d placed on my back.

Clio was going to kill me, and Eliot would allow it to happen, simply because he didn’t know any better.

As if the same thought was occurring to him, Noé grabbed Eliot by his lapels. “You have no idea what she is doing.”

Meanwhile, in our match, Clio had gotten the upper hand. I gasped as she flipped me onto my back, my arms wedged painfully beneath me. “How sweet,” she purred, with a nod toward Noé. “Protective, is he?” She smiled. “Mine is, too.”

With a great heave, she lifted me up by my shoulders. Our gazes locked, my throat sealing over, as I understood what she meant to do. “Don’t—”

That was all I managed before she slammed my head hard into the ground.

A whining, metallic ringing sounded in my ears. My vision fogged over. Through the haze, I heard Noé call, “Cecilia!”

Bile rose in my throat. Clio’s blow, along with my earlier use of my magic, had taken all the fight out of me; I went limp as I felt her grip tighten around my shoulders again.

A voice broke through the quiet. “Enough.”

Clio paused. Noé’s voice was like ice. I felt a swell of relief as his footsteps started toward me. He reached down, grasping for something on the floor.

I did not recognize it as my ivy garland until he dropped it unceremoniously on Clio’s head.

“You win, all right?” he spat. “You win. I’m yours for the evening. This game is finished.”

He made a definitive, knifing motion with his left hand.