none to be had. And time, Blaise had said, was running out.
38
Snow had begun to fall, thinly, as if it could not make up its mind.
With Blaise’s unease like a chill wind at her back, she made her way toward Aux Deux Sœurs. The restaurant lay close by, and when she found the street and saw the star lanterns beckoning in its windows, she walked even faster toward its warmth. Inside, candlelight flickered on faces and the hum of conversation and laughter filled the room. The tables were crowded with diners drinking wine or tucking into the café’s famous roasted meats. At the back of the room, snug against the paneled wall, sat Sophie and Rosier. When Sophie saw Camille, she waved happily.
The way they were sitting suggested that a fresh proposal from d’Auvernay was probably not what Sophie wanted to tell Camille about. She guessed it was something momentous about Les Merveilleux—or, she thought, as she embraced them and noticed there was already champagne on the table, perhaps it was something else entirely.
“So kind of you to come, Camille!” Rosier held up the bottle. “Some wine?”
“S’il te plaît!” She set an empty glass in front of him. “Tell me, what are we celebrating?”
“I wish Lazare could be here,” Sophie said, wistful.
“I’m certain he wishes he could be, too.” Camille gave her a warning look. “Now tell me what’s happening!”
“You must have already guessed.” Sophie reached across the table and took Camille’s hand. “We’re to be married!”
Her eyes brimmed with sudden tears. “I hoped, but I didn’t dare believe it!” she said as she threw herself out of her seat and kissed them both, several times. “I am so happy for you!”
“Merci, ma sœur!” Sophie swept away a few tears of her own. “Merci for everything.”
“What did I do?”
“You went along with my plan!” Rosier said. “Of course, I revealed everything to Sophie before I asked for her hand—not that she didn’t already know! And, Camille, you helped us hope.”
“There was that time we talked in the courtyard, when I was ready to throw it all away,” Sophie said seriously, “and you reminded me of what was important, and of who I truly am. Just like Charles Rosier did.”
He took Sophie’s little hand and kissed it reverently. “I am the luckiest boy in the world.”
“And I,” said Camille, “am so happy in your happiness.” As she took a sip of wine, felt the bubbles rise, she felt her heart lighten. There was so much wrong, but so much right. One magical book had been found and surely, despite Blaise’s worries, others could be, too. Answers were coming. They had the vials of blur, Odette was gone … and now there was this promise between two people she loved. It made her wonder if she and Lazare might mend also what they had broken. Was it so much in pieces? Couldn’t feeling bring things back together?
Each of these thoughts was a candle to wish on, a flame to drive out fear and darkness. It felt as though, crowded around this tiny table, they had a chandelier’s worth of possibilities. “Have you set a date?”
“As soon as possible?” Sophie said, and Rosier laughed.
“We expect Lazare back any day, non?” he asked. “We would not do it without him.”
“I cannot say when he will return. Besides, you did promise you would have a long engagement.”
“I reserve the right to change my mind! And who knows?” Sophie said slyly. “I have always dreamed of a double wedding—”
Just then the door to the restaurant swung wide open. Snow swirled in and hung suspended in the candlelight. Into the room stepped a rough man in a tricorne hat, gesturing wildly at the patrons at their tables. Conversation faltered. The air hummed with waiting, and then the man shouted, “Stand and follow me, you who are patriots! A mob seeks justice!”
Chairs squealed as people got to their feet, some crowding together inside, others pushing to get out. Camille, Rosier, and Sophie stared at one another in horror. “What shall we do?” Sophie cried.
Camille clasped Sophie’s hand. She thought of Giselle, how the crowd had formed and then dispersed. “Perhaps we can help? But we must stay together.”
They pushed their way past overturned chairs and half-empty glasses of cider to reach the door. Once out in the street, they saw several customers hurrying away, heads down.
“What’s happening?” Sophie said, a catch in her voice.
Suddenly they heard it: angry voices echoing down the island’s narrow streets. Shouting, the pounding