Two hours after noon, Amandine requested Elodie’s presence, and Malou saw her off to her mother’s study. Although Malou knew the younger girl assumed she was staying at least for dinner, she needed to get back to Tousieux with the Teir and news of Professor Brosch’s murder. More than that, she needed to get back so she could finally get answers out of Zeynel.

“Have a good chat with your mother,” Malou said, giving Elodie a hug at the wood door of Amandine’s study. How was she going to slip away without making a false promise to see Elodie later tonight?

“I’m sure she just wants to talk to me about interning with the firm as Dorian did.” Elodie scrunched her nose. “Or …that other thing I haven’t told you about yet.”

That was right—Elodie had said on the day Malou had arrived that she’d had something to tell her. Malou had been waiting for her to bring it up rather than prying. She’d figured it was her first crush. Or perhaps someone having a crush on Elodie and the younger girl not knowing what to do. The types of conversations Malou had with Dorian before he’d adopted the personality of an asshole.

“Perhaps next time,” the Valois butler said from beside the door. She gave a kind smile, laugh lines appearing beside her temples. “Our Amandine said to let you in as soon as you arrived, so if you would…”

Malou gave Elodie another hug. “You should go. We’ll talk later.”

Later meaning when she was back on campus. Or when she returned for a visit. Not later tonight when she’d hopefully be listening to Zeynel tell her what was going on with the Teir and the Blind Collective.

“Sounds good,” Elodie said, her eyes glistening a little. “Love you, Malou.”

The other reason she wanted to leave without telling Elodie was that Malou hated saying goodbye. She hated saying it to Elodie the most. Elodie, who loved her unconditionally. Elodie, who looked at her with pure admiration. This was just easier.

“Love you, too.” With that, Malou put her hands on Elodie’s shoulders, turned her to face the door, and let the butler take Elodie under her arm and inside Amandine’s study.

Elodie stuck out her tongue over her shoulder before disappearing inside. When the study door had closed, Malou mazed through the manor’s hallways to her bedroom in the other wing, sparing vague smiles and biddable greetings to everyone she passed.

All she had to do was pack up her stuff, have Laure call for a town car, and leave. Soon, the Teir wouldn’t be in her pocket anymore. Soon, she’d have answers. That was if the only person who could give them to her felt like finally telling her the truth rather than avoiding it.

Up the main staircase to the second floor, Malou caught Grandmother Laïla and Senator de Klijn in a quiet private conversation. Their mechanical dogs sat at their sides, tails still and gaze trained on the other.

Malou’s first instinct was to hide and have Laure listen in, but her grandmother had seen her come up the stairs. Her second instinct was to move past them without paying them any attention then have Laure listen in, but her grandmother reached out for her. Being a sneak around people who paid attention to her was a bit difficult.

“Senator de Klijn,” Grandmother Laïla said, raising her voice to a normal speaking volume. There was also a finality to her tone as if signaling the end to whatever conversation they were having before. She held Malou’s hand, squeezed. “I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting one of my most brilliant grandchildren. This is our Malou.”

Perhaps Malou’s appearance had allowed her grandmother the opportunity to get away from the senator. She could live with that.

“Good afternoon,” Malou said, giving a deep bow to her grandmother and a slight one to de Klijn. Then she offered him a charming smile, the kind that Gavriel would’ve surely pulled out in the same situation. She might not have dimples as he did, but she knew her smile brightened her face just so. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, senator.”

The senator dipped his head in greeting. “Good afternoon to you as well. You’re Leonore’s daughter, then? You have her smile.”

“I am,” Malou said, pretty sure that was no compliment. “Thank you. I apologize for interrupting your conversation, Grandmother. I was just on my way to my room.”

“Oh, dear, you did no such thing.” Grandmother Laïla gave her hand a pat. “Our conversation was over. Why don’t I walk you to your room? I’ve barely had a chance to see you since you’ve been here.”

Senator de Klijn’s face tightened. “Until next time, then.”

Grandmother Laïla said nothing in return, though it would’ve been most polite to bow goodbye to him and repeat the words back. Senator de Klijn may have held a seat in the senate, which demanded a certain level of respect even from the widow of a late senator, but Grandmother Laïla was one of the elder-most High Court Justices. Patrician etiquette meant he was the one who had to be overly polite to her.

When Grandmother Laïla had guided Malou too far for him to overhear, she said, “Are you leaving already, my dear? I was hoping you’d stay. Elodie was hoping you would as well. I suppose you have work to do for the Vice-Premier?”

“…Yes,” Malou said. It wasn’t completely the truth, but it was close. Returning the Teir was technically work, and Zeynel would probably have another task for the Onzena Nit ready for when she got back. “I do wish I could stay, though.”

“Just know that you always have a home here, Malou.” Grandmother Laïla held Malou’s hand in both of hers as they stopped at the door to her bedroom. “You can come to me if you ever need anything.”

“Thank you,” Malou said, this time meaning it. “I know. And I will. Let me know if you need anything, too. Like with the senator…”

Grandmother Laïla released out a big laugh. “Oh, child. Don’t worry about that man. I can handle him. All you need to do is stay strong and keep your head up.”

They exchange a hug, and even though Malou was too old for it, her grandmother kissed her cheeks goodbye as well. She watched the matriarch of the Valois family walk away, her mechanical Great Dane leaning against her for a moment, tail wagging attentively as she stroked his head between his ears. Just last night, she’d slipped a secret message into Grandmother Laïla’s pocket. The first message she’d delivered that night.

What had that message said? Would Grandmother Laïla ever tell her?

In her room, Malou grabbed her valise from the wardrobe and tossed it valise on her bed. Malou started with the black clothes from last night, digging her tingling fingers into the fabrics and recalling exactly how she’d imagined hiding them before. She wished she could hide all her racing thoughts from her mind, too.

Why hadn’t Zeynel told her grandmother or Brosch that she would be delivering the messages when they both knew her? How was he involved with her grandmother? Why had Brosch seemed so prepared to die? Had her father known he was possibly dying the day he’d left her?

Malou hoped Zeynel would give up some information simply because she wanted to know. Because after her father had died, he’d been the one to be there for her. Because he cared about her, even if sometimes he stopped just short of showing it. Or he’d refuse to tell her anything at all like he usually did. She wouldn’t let him this time.

With her clothes hidden, she started packing her school uniform and nightwear. A single knock drew her attention to the door. Leonore was leaning against the frame. Malou didn’t know when her mother had opened the door—she hadn’t heard a thing—but Malou was going to assume her mother had just arrived because she gave a soft smile.

If Leonore had been standing there any longer, she would’ve seen the clothes she hadn’t chosen for her daughter or watched them disappear entirely, and she wouldn’t smile in the face of either.

It’d never been lost on Malou that her father hadn’t said she could tell her mother that she could use magic. Tell no one meant not even Mother Dearest.

“Oh, you’ve spotted me. I heard you packing,” Leonore said, though Malou knew there was no way her mother had heard her packing through a closed door. Her tone shifted, and Malou didn’t quite recognize it. “Is my lovely girl leaving so soon?”

Malou rolled a pair of breeches and gave the excuse she’d rehearsed in her mind all afternoon. “Exams start on Monday.” Which was true, and Leonore knew it. What Leonore didn’t know was that Malou had to return the half of the Teir that was resting like a rock in her pocket.

“Ah, yes. I shouldn’t be so surprised by your studious nature. I was the same when I was your age, so of course, you would be as well. I believe Amandine is expecting us for dinner tonight, though. She would be disappointed to know you left before she could feed you properly. Won’t you at least stay that long?”

Amandine loved to cook, and Malou loved her cooking. That must’ve been what she had called Elodie for—to help her with dinner. Malou said, “She’ll have to excuse me this once. I’ll promise to visit again soon.”

As Malou continued packing, her mother’s long sigh settled into the quiet room. The longer Leonore waited without saying a word, the more Malou wanted to ask why her mother was here at all. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d been in a room alone for this long.

Then, finally, Leonore stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She crossed her arms over her chest, holding her elbows with effortless grace. Her eyebrows were knitted together as if in sadness. For the first time in Malou’s life, she watched her mother hesitate.

“…I was hoping you’d stay a little longer—perhaps for a more selfish reason. I won’t be returning to Tousieux.” Leonore’s brown eyes seemed to shine with anticipation of her daughter’s reaction.

Malou’s hands stilled as her mother’s words—her mother’s entire demeanor—sank into her. Leonore was sad, maybe even concerned. Though for what, Malou couldn’t understand. She lowered her gaze to her clothes and forced herself to attend to her last shirt properly despite her desire to stuff it in without bothering to roll it.

Because her mother’s sadness couldn’t hide that she was too calm for this to be a sudden decision. She must have been planning on leaving for a while.

Malou closed her valise with a snap and then belted the straps over the top slowly, letting the sound of leather on leather fill the silence stretching between them until she decided to ask for a reason rather than just tell her mother thanks for nothing then leave.

“Would you care to tell me why you’re leaving?” Malou asked. "And why I'd ever want to go with you?"

“Tousieux isn’t safe.” Leonore moved from the doorframe to her daughter’s bed. "I can keep you safe if you come with me."

Malou didn’t know what to make of the worry in her expression, let alone what she was saying. How could Tousieux not be safe? How could her absentee mother keep her safe when she would never be around?

Leonore continued, “I know it’s your home, and I consider it mine as well, but there’s no protection for us there. Not from my father’s murderer. Not from those who wish to see our family crumble. And as long as we’re targets, we have only two options. We could stay here with the rest of the family—our family is stronger together than apart, after all—but we can’t live like this, you and me. That’s not us, now is it?”

Malou didn’t particularly enjoy the similarities her mother was drawing between them. Yes, it was true she wouldn’t be able to stay in the Valois Manor for long even though she loved Elodie. Patrician life was stifling formality and rigid etiquette, inbred ignorance steeped in a self-serving sense of counterfeit morality. Although Leonore seemed part of their ranks, she was merely a well-rehearsed actor. That was where their resemblance ended.

How could her mother consider Tousieux home? After all, where had her mother been night after night when Malou had to eat dinner alone? Where had her mother been year after year when Malou had visited her father’s grave alone?

As much as she wanted to believe her mother loved her, Malou had been as good as dead to Leonore since Dad's death. Surely, her worry was feigned. She knew how to play mother only when it was convenient for her. Tousieux could be home to Malou whether or not her mother was there.

“Our other option is to leave the country.” Leonore’s rings flashed in the light as she pulled Malou’s valise in front of her, unbuckled it, and began piling her daughter’s haphazardly arranged clothes on the bed.

Apparently, Malou hadn’t done a good enough job for her.

“And I’m sorry for the suddenness—I’d planned to ask you after dinner—but I would feel better if you’d come with me, honey. Perhaps I haven’t been there as much as I should’ve been these last few years, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been protecting you. I want to keep you safe more than anything in the world. That’s why I accepted a position at Estravenza University. I can arrange for your credits to be transferred.”

Malou’s blood hummed through her with the sting of salt and vinegar. So Leonore ignored her daughter for nearly ten years then suddenly wanted her precious child to go with her to some other country? Maybe Leonore was asking in some sort of show of maternal consideration. Maybe she was asking because she honestly thought Malou would want to go with her.

“You want me to hide with you.”

“Yes,” she said. Softly. Slowly, she started re-rolling her clothes and then gently placing them in the valise. “I know I’m asking a lot, dear, but I am asking. Please come with me.”

“No,” Malou said. "I have exams."

"You can come after you finish them."

"What about Gavriel?"

Leonore pursed her lips. “You should think about it. You don’t have to make a decision right now. Why don’t you stay for dinner—Amandine did work hard on it, after all—and we can continue this conversation later tonight? I’m sure you have questions. I’m more than happy to answer them for you, give you some more information about where we can stay and for how long we’ll be away. And if you’re still unsure, we can always figure out a way to give you some more time to think. I can send you an escort, for instance. How does that sound?”

“I don’t need to think about it.” She wanted to bat her mother’s hands away from her clothes. She wanted her mother to stop pretending she cared about her. She wanted her mother to leave. She wanted to be done with this day. “My answer is no.”

Leonore’s cheeks had lost their natural color. Still, she smiled, and Malou felt for an instant perhaps she’d made the wrong decision if her mother could look this truly heartbroken.

“Alright, my darling daughter. You’re a smart girl. I know you can take care of yourself. But if you change your mind, I’ll still welcome you.” Leonore’s hands continued winding clothes as if around a spindle, one after another. “Why don’t you grab your toiletries? I’ll help you finish packing and see you off. Will you at least allow me that?”

“You’ll be late for dinner.” Malou imitated Leonore’s perfectly crafted smile. “I can pack on my own, Mother. And I don’t need you to show me off.”

Leonore released a soft laugh. “Alright, alright.” She set one last shirt inside the valise, bracelets clinking, and then closed the distance between them. Her arms wrapped around Malou’s shoulders, ushering her daughter into a foreign embrace.

Tucked under her chin, Malou could smell the citrus notes of her perfume and the mint on her breath. Her warmth enveloped Malou, the same warmth that used to awaken her daughter on the coldest of mornings and ease her daughter back to sleep in the darkest of nights. Her mother felt smaller than she remembered.

“Certainly,” Leonore said, pulling away enough to stroke the back of her fingers along Malou’s cheek, “you have my tongue. And your father’s eyes. Beautiful blue eyes. You’ve grown up well, honey. I’ll leave you to it, then. Goodbye, Daughter Darling.”

Their eyes met. The concern Malou had seen earlier was gone. Leonore’s eyes were sharp and hard. Calculating.

Malou couldn’t breathe as her mother pressed a lingering kiss onto her forehead, reminding her of when her mother’s warm palm had cradled her hand and her mother’s love had kissed her forehead in this same way the day of her father’s funeral. When her mother had promised they would both be alright.

That had all been a lie. Just like this was all a lie.

With that, Leonore walked out of Malou’s life for the second time, and it didn’t feel nearly as freeing as Malou had hoped.