Stolen Songbird

by Danielle L. Jensen

  Her shoulders slumped and my hopes fled. She shook her head. “There is a reason they have ruled us for so long, Cécile. There are none in this world as powerful as the Montigny family – I wouldn’t have a chance of stopping him. Only his father could restrain him, and even then, it would be a struggle.”

  I tried to take shallow little breaths, but I could taste blood on my tongue. “Is there no other way?”

  Anaïs grimaced. “With iron.”

  I frowned.

  She hesitated as though the information was a great secret. Perhaps it was, if it were something that could control their magic. “It is a method usually only used to bind prisoners until the time of their execution. Sometimes it’s used as a punishment,” she said. “The troll is physically restrained and iron spikes are driven into the body. The metal interferes with our magic – if enough are used, he might be controllable.”

  A shudder ran through me. She’d have to torture him to save him.

  “He’d have to agree to it beforehand, though,” she said. “And he won’t.”

  I bit my lip. “Is it the only way?”

  “Yes.” She closed her eyes, but glittering tears forced their way through her black lashes. “Except for one thing. He has my true name.”

  I squeezed my eyes tight, giving her a slight nod so that she would know that I understood the implications of that knowledge. Tristan had complete control over Anaïs – and in this situation, he would use it.

  “The same goes for Marc and the twins,” she said bitterly. “He has the name of anyone we dare ask who is powerful enough to do it.”

  But what if I could handicap him enough that a less powerful troll might be able to control him. Could I do it? Did I have the strength?

  “There’s a book hidden in the garderobe.”

  Frowning, Anaïs went into the side room and came back holding the grimoire. “What is this?”

  “Anushka’s grimoire,” I said. “There are spells in here for use against trolls.”

  Anaïs recoiled. “Blood magic!”

  I nodded and explained the spell that would cut a troll off from his magic.

  “Can you make it work?” she asked, eyeing me warily. “Using my blood?”

  “I hope so.”

  “I prefer certainty to hope.” She made a face. “What makes you think you are even capable of subduing one of us? And not just any Fa…” She broke off. “Not just any troll. The most powerful troll in this world.”

  I blinked. “I could test it on you, I suppose.” My eyes met her metallic gaze. “If I can cut him off from his magic, a less powerful troll could restrain him. Stick him full of metal until he is sound enough of mind to be set free.”

  She looked ill.

  “You’ll help me, won’t you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level.

  “I will do what it takes,” she said. “Whatever it takes to save him.”

  Relief flooded through me.

  “It doesn’t need to come to that, though.” Anaïs squared her shoulders. “We can get you help. Get you another witch who can fix you with magic.”

  “If the King allows it,” I replied. “I think he might rather see me die than allow another witch in this city.”

  “He wouldn’t dare – he knows the risks it entails.”

  “There is always Roland,” I said softly.

  Magic prickled over my skin as Anaïs’s anger rose. “If it comes to that, we are all of us doomed.”

  When Tristan eventually returned, it was with Jérôme and Christophe trailing along at his heels. “Oh, my dear girl,” the weathered old farmer said upon entering the room. “What has happened to you?” Pulling back my layers of blankets, he rested a hand on my forehead and then laid his ear against my chest, listening to the rapid thudding of my heart. Then, very carefully, he felt along my side, quickly withdrawing his hand when I squealed in anguish.

  “This is far beyond my skill, or that of any of the others who do business with you, my lord,” he said. “Her ribs are broken, and I suspect she is bleeding internally. She needs a skilled surgeon, and soon, for there to be any chance she’ll live.”

  “She needs her grandmother,” Chris said from where he stood in the corner. He pointed a finger at Tristan. “I told you this place would kill her.”

  “You bring her grandmother, then,” Tristan said. “Just name your price – I’ll pay.”

  “Only a troll would try to put a price on something like this,” Chris said, not bothering to hide his disgust.

  “Shut your fool mouth,” Jérôme snapped at his son. “We’ll bring her grandmother, my lord. If we ride fast, we should be back here by morning.”

  “Or not.” The door clicked shut. “The grandmother is a witch – and it seems we already have one too many of those within the confines of this city.”

  Jérôme and Christophe dropped to their knees. Anaïs’s grip on my hand tightened, and Tristan spun towards the door.

  As soon as I heard the King’s voice, I knew my time was up. He wanted me dead, and this way it would happen without him even muddying his hands. I would be just another human who succumbed to the darkness of Trollus.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Tristan shouted. “She’s injured! If we don’t help her, she’ll die!”

  Thibault tsked through his fat lips. “Tragic, to be sure, but such is the way of life. The strong flourish, the weak perish. It is not our way to interfere.” He walked over to the bed and leaned over, cold eyes taking in my weakness. I felt like a small, injured creature under the eye of a hungry vulture. “Pathetically weak,” he said, turning away. “I am sure we can find you something stronger.”

  Tristan’s eyes bulged with fury. “She is my wife,” he howled at his father.

  “Your Majesty, you must reconsider,” Anaïs gasped. “If she dies…” Her eyes flickered to Tristan.

  The King chuckled. “Never fear, Anaïs. I won’t let my boy die. If I have to tie him up for months and force-feed him gruel myself, I’ll do it.”

  Even though he was discussing my impending death, I felt relief at the King’s words. He wouldn’t let Tristan die. Tristan wouldn’t have to endure torture in order to survive. But while this knowledge relieved that anxiety, it did nothing to quell my fear of what was to come for me. I did not think I could stand it if the pain got much worse, but the thought of losing consciousness was worse. I didn’t want to lose my last moments. I wanted to live. Clenching my eyes shut, I prayed for a higher power to intervene and keep this hour from becoming my last.

  “No,” Tristan said, the word ripping me out of my reverie. “I won’t live without her.”

  His father smiled. “How poetic. Unfortunately, kings and their heirs cannot afford such romanticism, Tristan. When she dies, you’ll take a nice troll girl to your bed, one of my choosing.” He shot Anaïs a nasty grin. “Not you, bleeder, so don’t get your hopes up. A nice, unflawed one. Once she produces an heir or two, you, Tristan, can drown yourself in the river for all I care. It won’t matter. You won’t matter.”

  “You’re a monster,” I said, my words barely loud enough to hear.

  Thibault leaned down over my bed, his breath hot and smelling of garlic. “Yes, but you knew that before you even came, didn’t you, Cécile?”

  I cringed away from the creature above me, for the King was like a thing of nightmares. The beast hunting in the midnight spaces, beneath bridges and in forest caves. Always watching and always waiting for the chance to strike.

  He pressed a hand against my forehead. “You are in a great deal of pain, I think.” He looked at Jérôme, as if noticing him for the first time. “Do you have something you can give her? No need for her to spend her last days in agony.”

  Jérôme’s face was white from fear. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  The King turned his attention back to Tristan. “You will do nothing to interfere, do you understand?”

  “I hear you,” Tristan said. “But I far from understand why you are doing this.
”

  “All that matters is that you obey.” The King strode from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

  “I’m sorry.” My voice was quiet, even in the silence of the room.

  “I won’t let you die,” Tristan said, the words almost a groan. In two strides, he was next to the bed, his forehead pressed against mine. Magic enveloped us, blocking our words from the others in the room. “I can’t lose you.” His words were muffled against my hair. “I won’t.”

  “There isn’t anything you can do,” I said. “Except to let me go and promise me you’ll live.” It took every ounce of control for me to keep my voice calm and reasonable. I wasn’t even certain why I bothered, because I could see my anguish reflected in his eyes. He felt it too.

  “No.”

  “You aren’t making this any easier for me by saying that,” I said, my fingers clutching at his shirt. My voice cracked, and a sob racked my body with pain.

  “It is the truth.” I could hear his heart thundering against my ear, feel his misery and fear. “I should have made you go when I had the chance.”

  “It wasn’t your decision to make.” I kissed him hard, clinging to him with what little strength I had left. “I would never choose to leave you.”

  “Isn’t that what dying means?” Bitterness echoed through me. “Leaving?”

  “But not by choice.” I tried to breathe and calm myself – to bury my sorrow beneath my desire to ensure Tristan remained alive. It was the last thing I had any control over, and I clung to it like a shipwrecked sailor to the debris of his vessel.

  “Does it make a difference, if the result is the same? I’m going to save you,” he muttered. “No matter what the cost.”

  He gestured to Jérôme. “Give her something for the pain.” Then he motioned to Anaïs and Christophe, who both followed him across the room, their words cloaked by magic.

  Jérôme stirred a mixture of herbs into some water. Lifting my head with one hand, he poured the liquid into my mouth. It tasted foul, and I struggled to swallow it back. “This will help you rest easy.”

  “What are they talking about?” I asked, my eyes fixed on Tristan. He was writing something on a piece of paper.

  “I don’t know,” Jérôme said. “I’ll leave these herbs for you. Take as much as you need to numb the pain.” His eyes met mine. “Take them all when you feel you cannot bear it any longer.”

  My attention flickered back to Tristan. He handed Chris a folded and sealed letter, which Chris tucked into the pocket of his coat. They both wore grave expressions. Chris nodded at whatever Tristan was saying, and to my astonishment, they clasped each other’s shoulders. Tristan turned to Anaïs, and I watched them silently argue, she shaking her head while he gestured wildly. Eventually she nodded, and Tristan came back over to the bed.

  “We are going to take you out of Trollus,” he said. “We cannot get anyone here to help you in time, but I believe we can smuggle you out.”

  “You can’t send me away!” Hot tears filled my eyes, making Tristan’s image blur. Everything was blurry. Jérôme’s medicine was taking its effect, making both my mind and body numb. “You can’t, you can’t,” I repeated, searching for words to convey what I was feeling.

  “He’s going to come with you, Cécile,” Chris said. “You don’t need to worry. We’ve found a way that he can leave.”

  “What? How?” Exhaustion crept over me like a blanket of fog, my eyelids drooping. Neither Chris or Jérôme answered as they walked quickly from the room.

  “Don’t worry about how,” Tristan whispered in my ear, his breath warm. “Just know that I would never choose to leave you. Rest now – we leave tonight.”

  In a haze, I watched Tristan walk swiftly to the curtains. Bending down, he tore open the stitching and extracted the papers I had carefully sewn in. All this time I had assumed he’d moved them to some secret place.

  He tucked the plans into his coat and, without a backward glance, hurried from the room.

  CHAPTER 36

  TRISTAN

  I walked swiftly through the streets of Trollus, but in truth, it took every ounce of control not to run. I could not risk showing the urgency of my situation – my desperation – or they wouldn’t give me what I needed.

  The city was dusty and littered with debris, and the faces of those tasked with the cleanup were equally filthy and exhausted. But that didn’t stop them from noticing my signal when I paused to light the lamps that marked the outskirts of the Dregs. Several of them stopped their tasks and walked briskly in opposite directions. It would not take them long to convene those I needed.

  But first I needed to take care of those who were following me.

  I wandered slowly through the Dregs for a good quarter hour, pretending to examine the damage my brother had done, before deciding I had given everyone enough time. Turning a corner sharply, I stepped into a doorway and waited. Moments later, I heard the steps of Angoulême’s men scraping across the stones. I coughed as they passed and tipped my hat as they turned. “I need a bit more privacy than usual today,” I said, and immediately trussed them up with magic, depositing them in the house behind me.

  It took me only a few minutes more to reach the familiar tavern. “My lord,” the proprietor said, bowing low before bolting the doors behind me. “How is the Princess?”

  “She will be fine,” I said. She would be – I just needed to get her out of Trollus to someone who could help.

  “That is good news,” the man said, smiling. “We owe her for what she did today.”

  Yes, they did.

  “Is everyone here?” I asked, walking towards the stairs.

  “They are.”

  “Good. Keep watch.”

  I started speaking as soon as I entered the room – there was no time to spare. “Thank you all for coming,” I said. “I am gravely sorry for the actions my brother took today. I see now that he is a menace that will soon grow out of the bounds of control, and it is my intention to deal with him in a permanent fashion as soon as it is expedient to do so.”

  They all stared at me silently, showing no reaction to my declaration, so I continued. “But that is not why I am here. As you all well know, the curse remains in effect. No one with troll blood in his veins may pass the boundaries of Trollus. Yesterday was a demonstration of our most immediate and urgent peril – the thousands of tons of rock balanced above our heads with magic. Montigny magic. Without our power, our skill¸ Trollus and all its inhabitants would be doomed.” I was at the front of the room now. Slowly I turned around and stared down the dingy cellar full of half-bloods. “And it is this unfortunate truth that has always been the limiting factor in your cause. You. Need. Us.”

  Their faces darkened and the room filled with angry whispers. “A truth we hardly need reminding of!” someone shouted, “You promised a solution!” yelled another voice.

  “Indeed I did,” I said. “And I am meeting with you today to offer you that solution.” Slowly, I withdrew the plans from my coat. “These documents contain detailed plans for the construction of a physical structure that would eliminate the need for the tree. It would eliminate your need for us.”

  Silence.

  “I will build this structure for you, but it will have a cost.”

  “We’ve already promised safety for those on your list,” the half-blood called Tips snarled. His pant leg was knotted below the knee, and he had an arm slung around one of his friends for support. He was the reason Cécile had been in the Dregs – he owed her. “What more do you want?”

  I hesitated. They knew she’d been injured, but not how badly. If any of them knew the dire straits Cécile was in, no one would agree to my proposition. But it was the only chance I had. “You did not promise my safety,” I said. “Understand, by leading this revolution – by building this structure – I will be gaining many powerful enemies. If it were only my life I were risking…” I stared down at my carefully constructed diagrams – the result of years of resea
rch. “But circumstances have changed. If my life is in jeopardy, so is that of the Lady Cécile. And that, sirs, renders our prior agreement unacceptable in my eyes. I need assurance that she will at least be safe amongst you and yours.”

  “That girl saved my life today,” Tips said. “Saved the lives of countless half-bloods by going up against that devil of a creature you call a brother. Do you think there is anyone here that would lift a finger against her?”

  I wasn’t concerned about any of them harming her – what I was concerned about was whether they’d risk their own necks to save her. I did not trust them enough to take the chance.

  “That’s your price then,” Tips said, his hand balling into a fist. “To put your life and Cécile’s on the list of untouchables in exchange for some papers. To ensure her safety amongst your comrades?” I did not miss his emphasis on the final word. He shook his head angrily.

  “No,” I said. “I want something else from you.”

  My gloved fingers contracted slightly around the roll of paper, and in my mind’s eye, I visualized the blackening bonding marks tracing across my skin. I had to save her. There was no cost too high.

  “In exchange for these documents and my promise to do everything in my power to ensure their construction, I want the true name of every half-blood in Trollus.” I would have asked for the name of every known sympathizer, but I didn’t have that kind of leverage over those of full blood. The half-bloods would have to do.

  Silence.

  “You would have complete control of us,” Tips finally said. “More control than even your father has now.”

  I tilted my head to one side as though considering his words. “I promise never to use your names except in the defense of Cécile. And you have my word that I will never reveal any of them – not even on pain of death.”

  They began to exchange weighted looks with one another. “We need time to decide,” Tips said.