Fred had said they wanted to help me get free of the trolls, which certainly implied a desire to keep them contained. But if that was what the Regent wanted, why not just kill me and be done with it? What possible reason could he have for keeping me alive?
The rear door to the shop opened and slammed shut, heavy boots thudding across the floor.
“My lord. I expected you sooner.” I tensed at the sound of my brother’s voice, my ears peeled for the reply. It was Lord Aiden he was speaking to, I was sure of it.
“I had to ensure I wasn’t followed. The moment the trolls realize she’s missing, they’ll have every agent on the Isle looking for her. Did she have the book on her?”
“It was in her bag with some other papers. Lists of names and dates.”
“Good. Without it, we have nothing. Catherine, I assume you’ve taken precautions to ensure she can’t use magic to contact her friends?” His voice was familiar. I knew it – had heard it before. But where?
“She’s bound and gagged,” the witch replied in an emotionless voice. “The spell will keep her asleep for some time yet, given how small she is.”
“It won’t hurt her, will it?” Fred asked, and I scowled around my gag, wondering if he’d considered that before he’d used it on me. “Why are we keeping her here anyway? You said you’d help my sister, not keep her captive in some hovel in Pigalle. Why aren’t you keeping her in the castle?”
“Too many eyes, and it is not your place to question my decisions,” Lord Aiden snapped, and in the change of tone, I recognized his voice. Lord Aiden was the King’s messenger. A thousand pieces fell into place, and suddenly the King’s confidence in his plans to take the Isle all made sense. He controlled the man who would inherit the Regency. And yet that very man was double-crossing him, so it would seem his confidence was misplaced.
“You need to report to duty, de Troyes. Her friends will be looking for her, and you’re the first person they’ll go to. Make sure your story is convincing.”
“I don’t care to leave my sister tied up in a cellar.”
“If you value her life as much as you claim, you’ll do just that,” Aiden replied. “We must move quickly as it is if we are to find this witch and extricate your sister from the trolls’ power. We cannot raise their suspicion.” He didn’t know who or where Anushka was…
Fred was quiet, and I prayed that he wouldn’t leave. That he’d reconsidered what he’d done. But he didn’t. “Take care of her,” he muttered, and the door opened and slammed shut.
Disappointment carved out my guts, but I forced myself to concentrate on the conversation that ensued between Aiden and Catherine.
“Is the book what she was using to track Anushka?” he demanded once Fred was gone. “The troll king gave it to her on the beach – it was clearly of some significance.”
“It’s significant if it really is hers,” Catherine replied. “It’s certainly old enough, and the fact it’s written in a northern tongue is no small coincidence. But I won’t know until I cast the spell.”
“Do it now. We can’t waste any more time.”
“Not without my pardon.” Catherine paused. “Those have always been our terms, my lord. I want my life back. I want your mother to know the truth.”
“Leave my mother out of this. She knows nothing of the trolls, and I intend to keep it that way.”
That wasn’t true. Of a surety, Marie knew about the trolls and Anushka, but I wasn’t sure if he was unaware of that fact or was lying. I’d assumed all of the Regent’s family was in this together, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe they were as self-motivated and deceptive with each other as Tristan’s family was.
“Your mother is involved in this, whether she wills it or not. Though she must be living under another identity, Anushka is involved with the court. It was her who gave the potion to your father, and though we must needs keep her alive to keep the curse in place, that doesn’t mean she can’t be punished.”
“My mother doesn’t keep company with witches.”
“She kept company with me. She keeps company with Cécile.”
Aiden was quiet for a minute. “She’d not knowingly harbor Anushka – it’s too much of a risk. If the trolls ever discovered we were working against them… No, my mother cannot be involved. You will not speak to her of this, and neither will I.”
“You haven’t told your parents, have you?” Catherine’s voice was amused. “They have no idea how caught up in the King’s web you really are. Nothing more than the troll king’s errand boy. After generations of regents so carefully toeing the line between keeping the trolls placated and imprisoned, you hand them the keys to the realm for the sake of your greed.”
“You overstep yourself, La Voisin. The gratitude I felt for you in my youth was used up a long time ago. And besides, if my plan works, I’ll have accomplished something that no other regent has…” He broke off. “Did you hear something outside? If that’s de Troyes lurking about…”
Above, there was a flurry of footsteps and the sounds of a struggle overhead. A familiar voice shouted, “Let me go.” Sabine.
Lord Aiden was swearing as he struggled to subdue my friend, and I held my breath, afraid he’d hurt her. “Open the cellar. We’ll have to keep her here for now.”
The trapdoor flipped open, and I closed my eyes so they wouldn’t realize I was awake. Boots thudded down the ladder, then Sabine was tossed forcibly next to me. She sobbed raggedly around the gag, and I recognized a garbled version of my name. Only when the trapdoor shut again did I open my eyes and nudge her with my knees.
Faint light trickled through the floor, but it was enough to see her face soften with relief. I jerked my chin upwards. Listen.
“Do you see now why time is of the essence?” Aiden said. “The girl won’t be the first to come looking – no doubt the stable boy is lurking about as well, and he’s had contact with the trolls before. He’ll go to them for help.”
“Pardon first. Then I’ll cast the spell, and we’ll learn the identity of the witch everyone so desperately seeks. You need me far more than I need you, my lord. You cannot exploit” – she spat the word out – “Cécile without my help. Remember that.”
“Why would you care?” Aiden asked. “She’s naught but another tool in their arsenal.”
“I pity her,” Catherine replied. “The trolls took her against her will and then manipulated her sentiments so that she’d agree to this bargain. You forget that I saw her when she lay dying in Trollus – she has suffered enough.”
He laughed. “I think you give her too much credit, Catherine. She cares a great deal for the prince, that much is certain. She considers many of them her friends. She wants them freed.”
“I don’t think she does. Not deep in her heart,” Catherine said. “Because if she did, the trolls would already be loose.”
“Are you suggesting she has sabotaged her own hunt?”
“I don’t believe her oath would allow her to do so, but regardless, that’s not of which I speak.”
My pulse sounded loud in my own ears, every muscle tense with anticipation of what she would say. I’d known she’d been holding back information about curses, and it seemed now I was about to discover what. I only prayed it would not be too late.
“Think of what they did to her. They didn’t treat her badly or keep her a prisoner in a cell. They married her to a handsome young prince. They made her a princess, and did what they could to make her love him. I knew within an instant of meeting that creature of a king that he was far more clever and complex than you gave him credit for.”
“What of it?” Aiden demanded. I wanted to know the same thing, but at the same time my stomach clenched at the idea my emotions had been manipulated. Had the King really known I’d fall for Tristan? That he’d fall for me? Worse, had he actively manipulated us into it?
“The curse is an act of will,” Catherine replied. “Will, fueled by an intense desire to see something done and cemented by magic.” A chai
r scraped a bit on the floor, and I could all but see her leaning closer to him. “And it can be broken by will; by an intense desire to see the curse ended driven like a hammer with the force of magic.”
I felt numb. Rolling forward, I rested my forehead against the damp earth of the cellar, unable to meet Sabine’s questioning gaze. The idea that my role in the prophesy was to be bait had been bad enough, but this was worse. That the King had predicted bonding me to Tristan would make me fall for him, and that my love for him would give me the power to break the curse? I didn’t like that. It made me feel sick and even more used than I had before. It made me feel as though falling in love with him hadn’t been my choice, but part of a plan much greater than I knew.
“An interesting notion,” he said after a minute. “But how she feels about the trolls is of little import. What matters is that the troll prince loves her. It was he who told me there was a loophole in the girl’s promise in a desperate hope that I would help her. And I will, but it will come at a cost to him.”
Oh, Tristan. Tears dripped off my nose into the dirt.
“Her promise to the troll king was thus: I promise to do whatever it takes to find her and bring her here.” His laugh had a hysterical edge to it that made me cringe. “Cécile never went into Trollus. Here is the sand she was standing on when she gave her word, and that sand exists outside the barrier.”
Of course Tristan had heard the loophole in my promise even while he’d been suffering torture. All his life he’d been twisting words and undermining their meanings. He’d figured out the one way I could win free of my promise without breaking the curse, and he’d tried to give it to me. Now this man intended to use the information against him.
“So you intend for us to find Anushka, bring her to that spot, and then let her escape unharmed.” Catherine’s voice was toneless, but I knew she was angry. She wanted revenge for what Anushka had done to her, but that wasn’t part of Aiden’s plan.
“It will be a sweet thing to see the look in that devil of a creature’s eyes when he realizes he’s been outwitted.” He stood and paced slowly across the floor. “You see, Catherine, you need not fear for Cécile’s welfare, for she is the most precious thing in all the world, because with her in my possession, I’m in control of Prince Tristan.”
No, no, no!
“The half-bloods have rallied behind him again, and there are whispers that a great many others wish to see him on the throne. Mark my words, he intends to kill his father and take the crown. And there is nothing I would like better.” He spat out the last words. “With Thibault dead, I’ll be free of the foolish promises I made to him in my youth, and with Cécile in my care, Tristan will have to do what I say. I will control the trolls.”
From a troll tyrant to a human tyrant.
“What of Anushka?” Catherine pressed again. “What will become of her?”
“I’ll let her go,” he replied. “She’s survived on her own this long, I expect she can live a few generations more.”
“She deserves to be punished.”
“It doesn’t matter what she deserves,” Aiden said. “She’s all that keeps us safe from the trolls, and that makes her untouchable. Angering her would be madness.”
Catherine said nothing, but I could imagine his words were a bitter tonic to swallow, because they were the truth.
“You’ll have your pardon after our plans come to fruition,” Aiden said. “With what we will accomplish, my father will have no choice but to grant the request. We’ll need you to keep Cécile in check.”
Silence.
“Very well,” Catherine said. “I’ll do as you ask, but there are materials I need and preparations that must be made before I can cast the spell. Deal with her other friend, then come back an hour before sunset, and we will begin.”
“I’ll be here. And don’t even think of crossing me, witch.” The rear door opened and slammed shut with enough force to make the shop shudder.
An hour before sunset… That was all the time I had to escape. All the time I had to steal back the grimoire and find Anushka myself. Because if I failed, the cost to everyone I cared about in Trollus would be far worse than they ever dreamed possible.
Thirty
Tristan
The half-bloods had fallen slightly behind, so I took a moment’s worth of time to return to my rooms to change the bandages on my wrists. The corridors of my home seemed to swim around me, and I stumbled more than once on the smooth marble floors, my feet feeling like stones attached to my legs.
I had one of my sleeves up and a bandage half unraveled before I realized I wasn’t alone.
“Hello, Tristan.”
Tucking the bandage back into place, I slowly turned. Lessa, wearing her Anaïs-mask, was sprawled across my bed, head resting on one hand. “Get. Out,” I said.
She pushed her bottom lip out into a pout. “So hasty!”
“Get out,” I repeated. “Or I will make you leave, and I won’t be gentle about it.”
A cruel little giggle escaped from between her lips. “Are you so sure you can?” Sitting up, she slid off the bed and came toward me, stopping about a pace away. “I daresay, you aren’t looking in the peak of health.” Her eyes flicked to my manacled and bandaged wrist and up again. “It must be dreadful to feel so abused.”
I stared silently at her. Did she know that I was aware of her true identity? Or was she still going to attempt to pretend to be Anaïs? “What do you want from me?”
Lessa smiled, the curve of her lips familiar in a way that made me want to tear the magic off her face. “We’ll get to that.” She closed the distance between us so that we were only inches apart. My skin crawled, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of driving me back.
“You’re in quite a predicament. One that might very well send you to your death if I don’t help you.”
“I don’t want your help.”
She tilted her head back and laughed. “But you might need it. Cécile made a promise to the King to find Anushka. There is nothing he desires more, and his obsession will force her to the grave if she does not succeed. You promised the half-bloods you’d build a stone tree for them, which frankly, requires you to be alive. Except that you know Cécile’s time is short, which means your time is short, and you are driven to work day and night without rest, which is driving you to the point where you’ll burn out your power. Especially given the iron rot that is consuming you. Such a sordid circle of things: the King’s desire creates Cécile’s obsession, which drives your addiction to your work. Work that the King does not care to see completed, which makes him want the curse broken all the more. Around and around we go.” She walked in a slow rotation behind me and back to where she had started. “Spiraling down until someone dies.”
“Make your point.”
“It doesn’t have to be you and Cécile who die.” She tilted her head. “It could be him. He is, after all, the instigator.”
As if I hadn’t thought of that every waking minute for days. “Wonderfully traitorous solution, but unfortunately, killing my father would only delay the inevitable. As I’m sure you’re well aware, my brother is heir to the throne, and I cannot imagine he’ll suffer me to live long after he is crowned. Any fool could see your little ploy is self-serving.”
“It could serve us both.” Her voice was soft, persuasive. “No one wants Roland to be king, least of all me.”
“Yet you are betrothed to him.” Just saying the words made me feel sick. “And I think you are wrong to say that no one wants him to be king. I believe the Duke wants that very much indeed.”
“Betrothals can be broken, alliances reforged. He might be persuaded to see you as king if” – she traced a finger down my chest – “you could be persuaded to take a new wife.”
Revulsion held me frozen in place even as my mind recoiled from what she was suggesting. She had to be sick, her brain warped by iron-madness or worse. No amount of ambition could drive anyone toward this. “You are insane.�
�� I choked the words out before stepping out of reach. “What sort of twisted creature are you to want such a match?”
The smile slowly melted from her face. “You were not opposed to it so very long ago.”
Enough of this. “With Anaïs, perhaps, but not with you.” With clawed fingers of magic, I tore the mask off her face, sending her staggering. “Never with you.”
Regaining her balance, she snapped her head up to look at me, teeth bared with the fury of a rabid animal. The air in the room went searing hot, the vases and lamps shattering under the pressure. The whole wing of the palace shook and trembled beneath my feet, sending books toppling off their shelves and knocking paintings from the walls.
Instead of trying to stop her, I laughed in my sister’s face. “What do you suppose Father will do to you if you kill me?”
The shaking stopped and Lessa’s face resumed a false expression of composure. “I don’t want you dead.”
“Liar.”
She huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes. “Is that how it’s to be? Because I can lie you’ll not believe a single word I say?”
“No,” I said. “I’ll not believe a thing you say because I don’t trust you.”
The room began to cool before she answered.
“Believe me or not, it’s the truth. I don’t want you dead, I want you to see reason.” She lifted a foot as though she intended to walk closer, then wisely lowered it again. “Don’t you see? United, we could have everything. Together, we could kill Father, and believing his daughter would become queen, Angoulême would support you over Roland. And if he doesn’t?” She shrugged one slender shoulder. “We kill him. Kill Roland, too, because of a certainty, Trollus is better off without our younger brother. Together, no one would be able to stand against us. No one would dare contest our power.”
Hidden Huntress Page 23