gallows. Damp radiated up from the floor; in her flimsy shoes her toes ached with the cold. At least she could still feel something.
At least she was still alive.
Returning to La Petite Force she had been heckled, taunted, ridiculed. The people of Paris had thronged the doorway of the court, jubilating in the promise of her hanging. “À la lanterne les magiciens!” they chanted. She couldn’t shield herself from the rotten food they slung at her, and she tripped on the cobbles. The soldiers who marched alongside her took their time, trading knowing smiles.
No sympathy for the magician. She could hardly remember what she’d said in court when she’d tried to speak her truth. But what did it matter? Nothing had changed. Maman had told her only a few would ever understand magic. But did that mean she would have to go to the gallows?
She forced herself to consider it. The great square would become a sea, a heaving mass of spectators. Jostling, mingling, they would be out for the spectacle, there to enjoy themselves. She thought of the parties at Versailles, glittering and decadent. They were another kind of revel, but they too had been an upside-down world where different rules might apply. Even more so at a masquerade—
Her mind wrenched painfully back to the courtroom. To Giselle. Why had she done it? She struggled to think of Odette dead, to understand what had happened, and why. But there was only the slick of red on the floor, the corsage crushed into it, the acrid haze of gunpowder and distant screams. Giselle was here, somewhere in the prison. Was she cold, like Camille? Frightened? Or was she serene in knowing she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do?
Disguised as Odette’s friend, Giselle had struck a blow for the revolution. It made Camille wonder if she might—
A sharp knock. The guard eyed her through the open door. “Visitors.”
Sophie and Rosier came in, Sophie’s face puffy from crying. Behind them marched the guard who sat heavily on a chair in the corner. “Five minutes.”
“Camille!” Sophie cried.
“You mustn’t cry, ma chérie.” Camille pulled her close. Sophie’s heart beat fast and hard and regular, and it gave Camille courage. She thought back to Les Merveilleux, the puppets flying away. She remembered all the different versions of the play Sophie and Rosier had devised. Could there not be one final retelling of that story?
She took a steadying breath and hoped that she could make them understand the plot unfolding in her mind. It would take skill and perception and much planning. The burden on them would be great to make it happen—and quickly. “All will be well. I only wish I didn’t have to miss the spectacle.”
Sophie seemed stricken, as if the events of the last few hours had caused Camille to lose her mind. “Whatever do you mean?”
“The Marvels, of course,” she insisted.
The people she needed most to understand looked back at her blankly.
“Since I won’t be there for the performance at the square, I had an idea for you. An innovation.” Please, she begged silently, please understand me.
Rosier took out his pipe. “Do tell.”
“What if,” she said quickly, “instead of puppets, you used living actors?”
“Ah!” He took a drag on his pipe and she could almost hear the gears of his mind clicking. “I can see it now! Some of the actors might walk on stilts to give them the height the larger puppets had. And the flight of the white bird we call Mademoiselle l’Oiseau could be especially spectacular, non? To see her soar away?”
Like a mirror to Rosier’s own, bright understanding flashed in Sophie’s face. There wheels were spinning too, and in the midst of her own despair Camille was filled with a bright joy: whatever happened, the two of them were perfect together.
“It is really too bad!” Sophie exclaimed. “I know how much you wanted to be there in your dress with the white feathers.”
The guard paid them no heed, but continued to pick dirt from his nails.
“Yes,” Camille said, rapidly searching their faces to make certain they truly understood. “It is a shame I will not get a chance to wear it.”
“And your gilt-and-cream carriage!” exclaimed Sophie. “How you will miss that!”
“She will miss many things, you pack of idiots,” the guard said roughly. “Namely her own life.”
“Of course, of course!” Cautiously, Rosier turned his back on the guard. “Still, I cannot forget how you said you wished to fly once more!”