Warrior Witch: Malediction Trilogy Book Three

by Danielle L. Jensen

  She cracked. “Please help my sister, Tristan. Please don’t let anything happen to her.”

  It was either the finest bit of acting she’d managed, or she was genuinely afraid for Cécile’s wellbeing. Suspecting the latter, I bit the inside of my cheeks. Something wasn’t right, but I didn’t dare stop now.

  “I need those seeds,” I said. “Who took them?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered, and I knew this wasn’t going as she had planned. She’d expected me to go running straight out the castle gates and into Winter’s clutches, and now she didn’t know what to do.

  “Sabine,” I hissed. “She was against me using the magic, and she’s had the opportunity. She took them from me.”

  Josette blanched. “Surely not. She wouldn’t steal from you. Sabine is loyal.”

  “Don’t protect her.” I shoved past, moving out into the corridor, doors exploding open as I passed. “Do you know what I do to thieves?”

  Her eyes were bright with panic as she clutched at my arm, her fear for the innocent Sabine warring with her desire to trick me, and with her terror of just what I’d do if she admitted to having thrown them in the flames. “You need to help Cécile,” she pleaded, but I shrugged her off.

  Catching hold of one of the half-bloods hurrying down the hall, I jerked him close. “Where is Sabine?”

  “The gatehouse, Your Highness,” he replied. “With Lord Marc.”

  Joss took off running, and I strode after her, winding my way through the corridors and out into the open air.

  “Sabine,” Josette screamed. “Run. You need to run.”

  Cécile’s blonde friend twisted around, her eyes widening at the sight of us. Then Marc stepped in the line of fire. “Stones and sky, Tristan, what’s going on?”

  “My seeds,” I shouted, and then I leveled a finger at her. “Where. Are. They?”

  Sabine took a step back. Then another.

  “Tristan, she hasn’t done anything wrong,” Marc said, throwing up a shield to block my path. I shattered it with a single blow and demanded, “Where are they?”

  “They were a mistake, Tristan,” Sabine shouted, her voice echoing through the air. “Even if I had them, you don’t need them.”

  “Give them back!”

  Marc raised another shield and stepped between us. “Sabine, run!”

  She didn’t hesitate, swinging up onto the back of Cécile’s horse and laying the ends of her reins to the mare’s haunches. In a matter of seconds, she was across the bridge and into the city.

  Marc backed up until he stood just outside the iron barrier. “Tristan, you can’t step outside the walls.”

  “Then bring her back! The seeds are mine.”

  Marc took a deep breath. “You don’t need them.”

  But I did need them. Cécile… “You know what the punishment is for a human who steals from a troll,” I snarled. “Death.”

  I smashed through his shield and knocked him out of the way. I hesitated only for a second before stepping across the circle protecting me, and then I broke into a run.

  With every stride, I was sure the world would tear open and Winter would step out, stopping me in my tracks. That this plan was folly and would never work, but I saw no sign of her or any of her minions.

  But of a surety, they were watching.

  I chased the sound of the hooves through Trianon, gaining ground by cutting across yards and going over walls. But Sabine was riding at reckless speed, and I didn’t catch sight of her until she was galloping up the street toward Bouchard’s residence, bent low over the horse’s back, hair whipping out behind her. “Give them back, Sabine!” I howled, and tore her off the back of the horse.

  I let her dangle in the air for an instant, then dropped her in a pile of snow next to the open gate to the property.

  Watching her scramble back, I slowly stalked forward. “Give them to me.”

  “Please, Tristan, please,” she sobbed. “I don’t have them.”

  “The law is the law,” I said, then the air charged with magic and she collapsed in the snow, unmoving.

  I dug into her pockets, discretely pulling out the seeds, relief filling me at the sight of them even as I pantomimed the frustration of one thwarted. But before I could do anything more the world tore, and Winter stepped out.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Tristan

  The tear folded back on itself like the pages of book, stretching from the ground to the upper reaches of the sky to reveal desolate fields of snow and ice, wind howling across the great expanse like some tortured beast.

  “Highness.” The Winter Queen inclined her head, black hair falling over her shoulder like a silken curtain of mist, the tear closing behind her. “We meet again.” Her eyes went to the unmoving Sabine. “This pleases me. She was a wicked creature.”

  Which is why she’d been happy to let me chase Sabine down and kill her.

  “I have no patience for thieves,” I snapped, readying my magic.

  “Let’s not be so hasty,” she said. A small tear appeared, and through it, I could see Cécile underwater, trying desperately to make her way to the surface. But a sheet of ice blocked her path. My blood ran cold. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Winter had told Josette that she’d only scare her sister, that she wouldn’t put her in real danger.

  She wouldn’t put… I swore silently, desperately, and the tear closed.

  She clucked softly. “Your situation has grown dire indeed. I can help with that.”

  I spat at her feet, trying to keep my thoughts straight with Cécile fading by the second. I had not planned for this, but I could not stop now. Could not give up now. I squeezed the seeds tightly, keeping them at the ready.

  Winter sighed, the misty folds of her gown drifting and flowing. “Cécile went into Trollus in search of information on the whereabouts of your enemy, he who calls himself the Duke d’Angoulême. I’m afraid she ran afoul of your father.” Her eyes met mine. “I can help her. I can help you.”

  “In exchange for what?” She’d known when she’d spoken to Joss that Cécile was walking into trouble.

  “An alliance. I will save Cécile and do all I can to help you see your enemies dead. In exchange, you will give your word to protect my court from yours.”

  Given we were bound to this world, and given she had no intention of allowing her kind to linger here for fear of losing them to the iron, I failed to see how we were a threat to the Winter fey. But that wasn’t important in this precise moment. All that mattered was that she believed we were.

  I hesitated, then said, “No. On my word, I’ll never ally with you or your court. Nor will I harm a living soul for your benefit.”

  The air shivered as my promise bound me, and her pupils elongated as fury fractured her glamour. She could use my debt to order me to do it anyway, but the combination would drive me mad in moments. I was gambling that her plan didn’t include me losing my mind.

  “You will regret that choice, mortal.”

  I stared her down, praying that Cécile wouldn’t pay the price of me forcing the fairy queen’s hand.

  “I call your debt due, mortal prince. Bequeath me your power,” she said. “I would possess the greatest weapon in this world and the next.”

  I lowered my head, keeping my eyes on the snow so she would not see my expression. Not that it mattered: she had cemented her half of the bargain, and she would have her due. I closed the distance between us, the icy scent of winter tickling my nostrils as I leaned down.

  “Done,” I said, and the moment the words crossed my lips, my magic was gone. Her form turned as solid as my own, lips parting with a silent shriek of pain as my iron-corrupted power burned into her. I slammed my palm against her mouth, forcing one of the seeds between her teeth, driving her backwards, knowing it would only take a second for the spell to work even as we fell into Bouchard’s property and Sabine leapt to her feet and slammed the iron gates behind us.

  Before Winter could rea
ct, I rolled backward, vaulting over the fence and into a pile of snow.

  Crouched next to Sabine, I watched as the creature who was as old as time came to the realization she’d been tricked. No emotion came with the understanding, but I suspected she’d shake the spell quickly, and that her wrath would be formidable.

  Boots pounded up behind us as Marc raced onto the scene. “Are you all right?” he asked, helping Sabine to her feet, while I watched Winter circle the property, testing out her new set of powers, which, as I’d suspected, were as bound as she was by the iron circle.

  Cécile.

  I opened my palm to reveal the remaining black orb. It shifted and swirled, repulsive, yet incredibly alluring at the same time. It was easier not to feel.

  But when had I ever chosen the easier path?

  Dropping the seed on the ground, I crushed it with the heel of my boot. “Hold the city,” I said. “Give me a few hours head start, then you know what to do.”

  “What if she won’t deal?” Marc asked, his arm steadying Sabine. She’d taken a huge risk stepping outside the castle walls and tempting Winter’s wrath, but it had paid off.

  I cast a backward glance at Winter – who was watching us with a gaze so alien and strange, it almost made me feel human – and wondered how long it would take her to figure out just how trapped she was. “I don’t think you need to worry about that,” I said, then I started toward Trollus.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Cécile

  Water closed over my head and, when I kicked upwards, my hands hit a glassy sheet. I needed air. Needed to breath, but I couldn’t find a way up. The satchel strapped to my back was weighing me down, but it had Anushka’s grimoire, the perfume bottles full of blood.

  They won’t do you any good if you’re dead.

  Slipping off the strap, I kicked hard, desperation giving me strength. Then magic wrapped around my waist, jerking me up into the air. “I’ve got you,” Martin said, then there was rock beneath my bottom as he pulled me through the illusion and into the tunnel.

  “Wait,” I choked. “The guard.”

  We leaned back through the opening, but there was only blackness and silence. Martin sent a wisp of light over the surface of the lake and it reflected off the glossy surface. The water was frozen solid, all trace of both guard and leviathan gone.

  Winter had accomplished what she intended.

  At the far end, lights from the other guards bobbed into view, drawn by the noise.

  “We need to go,” Martin said, and he dragged me through the narrow passage in the rocks, and out into the open. We were on the rock fall, but beneath the wooden bridge that ran over top. Despite the cover the planks provided, Martin had one arm pressed against his eyes, the other raised as though he could ward off the midday sun.

  “I’m going to freeze to death if you don’t do something,” I stuttered out through my clattering teeth, unable to move from where I lay. Everything was numb, the act of breathing all I could manage.

  Magic enveloped me like a warm blanket, and with it came a wave of sleepiness that I knew I needed to fight. But it was so hard. Too hard, and before I knew it, I’d drifted off.

  I awoke to find myself suspended in the air, my body warm from the press of magic. “Where are we?” I muttered.

  “On the way to Trianon,” Martin said, squinting at me with teary bloodshot eyes. “I’ve been avoiding the road, just in case.”

  “Put me down.” My clothes were mostly dry and, though I was exhausted, I no longer felt on the brink of death. I retied the lace on one of my boots, then started walking. We needed to get to Trianon with the information on Angoulême’s location. And I needed to tell Tristan that his father had defended me from the sluag, had let me go. That he was going to help with the Winter Queen. That Tristan needed to stay where he was.

  “Wrong way,” Martin said, tugging on my arm.

  I blinked and looked around, feeling disoriented. “But Tristan…”

  Wasn’t in Trianon.

  “Oh, no,” I whispered. “He’s on his way to Trollus.” But he had to have passed us on his way, and I could think of no good reason why he wouldn’t have stopped when he knew I was all right. Unless it wasn’t his choice.

  “We have to go back,” I said, dragging on Martin’s arm.

  “But Thibault told us to go to Trianon.”

  I fixed him with a glare that made clear exactly what I thought of that proposition, and then I broke into a run.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Tristan

  I’d seen Martin carrying Cécile in the direction of Trianon, but hadn’t stopped. There wasn’t time, and I trusted the librarian as much as anyone to get her to the relative safety of the city. Or at least I would have, if she’d remained unconscious. Now she was backtracking toward Trollus, and I didn’t have time to do anything about it.

  Slipping under the overhang, I made my way up the River Road until I heard the sound of voices. “Searched the lake from back to front,” someone said. “No sign of her or the half-bloods she was going on about.”

  “Maybe she snuck out for a nap,” replied another, and I recognized the voice as Guilluame’s.

  “But you heard the noise!”

  “Could’ve just been rocks falling into the lake. Tree’s been neglected of late.”

  “But the lake was frozen solid.”

  I coughed, interrupting the guards’ conversation. Not a one of the four had sensed my approach. “Excuse me.”

  “Another blasted human,” one said, resting his elbows on the bars. “Go! If you seek shelter, you’ll find it in Trianon with Prince Tristan.”

  “I’m afraid that’s no longer the case.” I pulled back the hood of my cloak, readying to duck and run if one of them attacked.

  To their credit, none of them turned tail. The air went scalding hot as they linked their magic, the gate going cherry red and the surrounding rocks smoldering from the intensity of their shield. “I need to speak to my father.”

  “Something’s not right,” said the female amongst them. “I can’t feel his power. We should’ve known he was coming a mile off.”

  “It’s a trick,” Guilluame replied. “He’s a human disguised as Tristan.”

  “That’s easy enough for you to check,” I snapped. There was only so much time, and I couldn’t afford a delay. “Either let me pass or send someone to fetch the King.”

  The heat remained, their faces unconvinced.

  “I’ve been deprived of my magic,” I said, sweat trickling down my back. “One of you should be more than sufficient to keep me in line, if that is your concern.”

  “Go to the palace,” the female ordered the youngest of them. To the others, she said, “Let him in. We’ll keep him here until we have our orders.”

  The glowing gate swung outward, and I gave it wide berth as I passed, not wishing to be burned. My skin stung from the radiant heat as it was, healing mortal slow without my magic. So strange to fear something so insignificant.

  When I was through, the female pulled off her gauntlet and slapped a hand against my cheek, feeling for the presence of a disguise. “Nothing,” she said, her voice curious. “It’s him.”

  “Deprived of your magic, you say.” Guillaume pulled off his helmet. “How’d that come to pass?”

  “That’s a conversation I’ll have with my father and none other.”

  “Of course.” He grinned, revealing a piece of something green stuck between his two front teeth. “I wonder how well His Grace will reward me for putting you down.” Then he attacked, not me, but his fellows, sending the female flying through the air and then slicing the remaining guard in two.

  I turned to run, but his magic caught my ankle, then slammed me against the cobbles. “Some things are better done by hand,” he said, and his boot caught me in the ribs with an audible crack. The female guard raced back and tried to interfere, but he walled her off, his magic stronger, if only barely.

  Blow after blow str
uck me in the sides, in the arms, in my face, and there was nothing I could do to get away. Bones cracked and blood splattered the ground, but through it all I saw the face of my attacker. How he sensed my weakness and reveled in it. Then the air stirred, filling with a sound much like a whip being cracked, and through the swelling of my eyes, I watched Guillaume’s head drop to the ground next to me.

  “Get up.”

  I struggled to rise, and my father’s hand latched under my arm, hauling me to my feet.

  My lone defender stood wild-eyed. “I tried to stop him, Your Majesty,” she pleaded.

  “Go find others to replace them,” he snarled at her, and she took off running.

  It took every ounce of willpower I had not to pass out from the pain as he dragged me through the streets to the palace. They were empty as they only were during curfew, but the faces of those peering out from behind windows filled with dismay when they recognized me.

  “What’s happened?” I asked, spitting a mouthful of blood.

  “Sluag,” he said. “Now keep your mouth shut until we’re behind closed doors.”

  He brought me to his office, dropping me unceremoniously on the plush carpets. Going to a tray laden with goodies, he plucked up several linen napkins and a pitcher of water before kneeling next to me and wiping blood off my face.

  “That hurts,” I complained, flinching away to get into a better position, the knife tucked into my boot burning against my skin.

  “Gives you a bit of a taste of what it’s like to be human.”

  Neither his words or his tone were what I’d expected, and I lifted my head. “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “I’m not.” He rinsed the napkin in the water, then held it to the cut on my cheek. “Winter called your debt. Cécile was here and she told me enough. I sent her to tell you to stay put in Trianon, but it would appear she didn’t make it in time.”

  There was never a chance she would.