Warrior Witch: Malediction Trilogy Book Three

by Danielle L. Jensen

  “No!” The scream sounded like breaking glass, and Marc barely turned in time to block Lessa’s blow. She wore her own face, and it was coated with blood, her hair a tangled mess, and her clothes torn. She attacked with a mad ferocity, not giving Marc a moment’s respite.

  Which was why he didn’t see Angoulême move, or the knife that appeared in his hand.

  But I did. And I also saw that his face was smeared with Roland’s blood, blood that was steeped with all the iron I’d pulled from the boy’s body. I reached for the power, for the magic, and said, “Bind the light.”

  Angoulême froze, then his silver eyes tracked through the smoke and darkness to land on the rock where I was hidden. Giving one passing glance to ensure Marc was engaged with Lessa, he climbed to his feet and started toward me, knife in hand. “I think you’ve played your last card, little bird.”

  I scuttled backwards, the smoldering ground burning the palms of my hand.

  “I’m going to take my time with you,” he said with a smile. “Who do you think it was who taught Roland all his tricks?”

  I whimpered, feeling my pants dampen and hating myself for it. I was supposed to be brave, was supposed to see this through, no matter what the cost. But I’d been afraid of him from the moment we’d met, and that, that hadn’t changed.

  Then a roar filled the air, and fire brighter than the sun filled the sky. A massive form with wings passed over me, and I curled into a ball, closing my eyes against the heat. I felt rather than heard the thud of something landing next to me, and then Tristan was there, smothering the flames eating at my clothing. His face was carved with shadows, his clothes torn and crusted with salt. But he was alive, and he was here.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  I wasn’t, but I nodded anyway. “Angoulême? Where is he?”

  Tristan’s eyes searched our surroundings, then he shook his head. “I don’t see him.”

  “His magic is bound,” I said. “Find him, and kill him.”

  “But Roland–”

  “Is cured,” I said. “Now go before Angoulême finds somewhere to wash off the blood.”

  His eyes lit up in a way I hadn’t seen in a very long time, and he kissed me. “Be safe,” he said, then was gone.

  With the exception of the crackling of the burning woods, the night had gone eerily quiet. Holding my shirt over my mouth in an attempt to block the worst of the smoke, I began to search for my friends. I found Sabine first, and Chris, who had Souris tucked into his coat. But of Marc and the twins, there was no sign.

  “How did you find him?” I asked, allowing Sabine to pack snow against my blistered palms.

  “I didn’t,” Chris said. “His little rat dog friend did. He was half dead under one of those skiffs and surrounded by bodies, but the damn thing has nose like a bloodhound.” He took hold of my shoulder. “But he’s burnt out, Cécile. I don’t think he could create so much as a ball of light if his life depended on it.”

  And I’d just sent him after Angoulême.

  “You two find Marc or the twins. I have to find him,” I said, starting off in the direction he’d gone. To myself, I said, “If the Duke breaks my spell, Tristan won’t have a chance.”

  “And what a shame that would be,” Lessa said, stepping into my path.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Tristan

  It occurred to me as I sprinted through the woods without enough magic to keep the burning ground from singing my boots that I was making a mistake. That I should retreat and regroup, give my power a chance to recover itself, and then come up with a clever strategy for catching Angoulême.

  But I was done with clever strategies.

  Done with relying on deception and duplicity, bluffs and illusion, to capture my enemies and win my battles. I wanted a fight, and if it was to be bare knuckles, so much the better.

  But in order for there to be a chance of that happening, I had to catch Angoulême before he could wash off Roland’s blood and with it, Cécile’s spell. And knowing that would be his goal, I headed in the direction of the river I’d seen from Melusina’s back.

  My lungs choked on the ash in the air, my body screaming under the strain of being pushed so hard after it had already endured so much. Sparks bit at my skin, burned holes in my already torn clothes, but I ignored the pain and pushed on, jumping over fallen trees and pools of grey sludge, finally reaching the edge of the forest fire.

  Angoulême crouched in the center of the clearing, coat and shirt in a heap beside him, hands full of the snow he was using to scrub the blood off his skin. Swearing silently, I put on a burst of speed. He looked up, and I slammed into him, our combined weight sending us tumbling through the clearing and down a steep slope.

  We crashed up against trees and rocks, bushes cutting and slicing as we rolled into the gully to land with a crack on the frozen stream. The ice fractured, and we dropped, freezing water flooding over my head. Staggering to my feet, I dragged him out and threw him against a tree, the trunk cracking with the impact.

  At first I thought he was choking on the water he’d inhaled, then I realized he was laughing. Climbing out of the stream, I stalked toward him even as he rose to his feet, one hand pressed to his side. “Feeling a little burned out, are we, Your Highness?”

  “I don’t need magic to kill you,” I said, and struck. He ducked and rolled, coming up swinging, and then we were fighting in earnest. Fists and feet flew, both of us landing blows. I was the better fighter – had trained with Marc, Anaïs, and the twins since I was a child – whereas he’d disdained of combat in order to hide his affliction. But I was burned out, my movements sluggish, and my healing slow. And he knew it – staying on the defense. Wearing me down. And with each spare second, he used handfuls of snow to wipe away Cécile’s spell.

  I had to end this now, or he’d regain his magic and I’d be done.

  Without warning, he turned and sprinted up the slope, the gully sharpening and turning into a ravine that carved back into the foothills. My breath came in labored gasps as I struggled to keep pace, refusing to let him get away to fight another day. We’d been at this game of Guerre for far too long, and it was time it came to an end.

  Cutting through a copse of trees, I saw him once again on his knees in the snow, water beading on his skin where it had melted. Snatching up a rock, I dived into him, nearly sending us both over the edge. Then magic snatched hold of my body and flung me hard.

  I smashed into the forest, taking a tree down with me. And his laughter followed.

  “Once again, you have erred, boy,” he said, watching me rise with glittering eyes. “And so ends the reign of the fabled Montignys.”

  I leaned one hand against a broken tree trunk. “I’m afraid you are mistaken, Your Grace.” Then I held up the sharp piece of rock in my hand, one edge coated with crimson.

  His eyes widened, and then he felt it. The warm flood of blood from the severed artery at his neck coating his chest and running down to pool at his feet. His magic manifested and struck, but the blow was weak and glancing. He tried again, but his power faltered, and he dropped to his knees.

  I walked over to stand in front of him. “Checkmate.” I said, and the light fled from his eyes and he fell to the ground at my feet.

  My enemy was dead. But instead of triumph, all I felt was numb, because his death did nothing to bring back all of those I’d lost. An empty victory.

  “Well done, little brother, well done.”

  I jerked up from Angoulême’s body to see Lessa standing on the opposite side of the gorge, holding Cécile in front of her by the hair.

  “Let her go, Lessa,” I said, searching for a way to get across and coming up with nothing. My magic was flickering, but it wasn’t strong enough to hold my weight, and a fall from this height might well kill me.

  “Oh, I fully intend to let her go now that you’ve disposed of my master for me.” She spit into the ravine, her face full of hatred. And yet she’d fooled Angoulême for yea
rs, made him think she loved him and was loyal. It made the lie that I had lived seem like nothing. Like child’s play.

  “I finally made it to the top,” she said. “Everyone who stood in my way is dead, or is about to be dead, and I am ready to take my throne.”

  “Take it,” I said, my heart skipping as she leaned Cécile over the edge. “You can have it, just let her go.”

  She laughed. “Easy for you to give up, when you know you’re planning on sending all our people back.” She jerked hard on Cécile’s hair, eliciting a cry of pain. “I saw what she did to Roland, but it won’t work for me, will it? Cursed human blood, always holding me back. You’d make me queen of nothing, witch.”

  “Lessa, please.” If I could just buy enough time for my magic to strengthen, maybe there’d be something I could do to stop her.

  “I offered you the chance to rule with me, Tristan,” she said. “And when you turned me down, I told you I’d make you pay.”

  There was a flash of motion behind Lessa, Marc, running toward her, face barely recognizable though the burns.

  But he was too late.

  “Goodbye, brother,” Lessa said, and she let go of Cécile.

  She screamed, and I flung out all the magic I had at my disposal, a slender rope wrapping around her waist. Her weight hit, and it felt like my body was being jerked apart. But the magic was just strong enough to hold her tiny form. Out of my periphery, I saw Lessa and Marc falling, but there was nothing I could do.

  My eyes burning with pain, I dragged Cécile up. “I’ve got you,” I said, pulling her close. “I won’t let you fall.” Our enemies were dead, but looking over her shaking shoulder at the two bodies at the base of the ravine, I knew we had not won.

  * * *

  We found a goat track and picked our way down to the base of the ravine, climbing over the frozen creek and slippery rocks until we found our friends. Chris stood sentry over Lessa’s body. “She’s dead,” he said. “Very dead.”

  I didn’t care. All that mattered was the still form next to her.

  Sabine knelt on the ground next to Marc, her face streaked with tears and his hand clutched in hers. Blood was pooling around her knees, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

  “Is he…?” I found I couldn’t say it.

  She shook her head, and I saw that his chest was still moving. His hood had fallen back to reveal his face, and I wanted to pull it forward again. Not for the reasons he’d always worn it, but to hide the silent plea in his eyes. A dull ache filled me, and for a moment, it felt like I’d been the one to fall. Like I was the one who couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

  “Alive! Thank the stars,” Cécile said. “I can do this. I can fix this. I just need…” She eyed me wildly, then caught sight of the twins limping up the creek bed toward us. “Victoria, hurry,” she shouted. “I need you.”

  “No,” I said, taking hold of her upper arms and drawing her back.

  “What do you mean, no?” she demanded, twisting to look up at me.

  “No magic. No spells,” I said. “Leave him be.”

  “But he’ll die!”

  I didn’t answer, only held her steady and away from my cousin, my best friend. Victoria was on her knees next to him, shoulders shaking as she wept, but when she lifted her head, her eyes were full of understanding.

  Cécile was thrashing in my arms. “You can’t do this, Tristan. You can’t let him die. Please let me help him.”

  But she wouldn’t be helping him. For my own sake, not his, I’d forced him to live when Pénélope had died. I wouldn’t do it again. This was his decision, and he’d made it. Whether I agreed didn’t matter. It wasn’t my choice.

  “Please,” Cécile whispered, but she ceased struggling. And she wasn’t speaking to me. “Marc, please don’t leave us. We need you. I need you.”

  His gaze shifted to hers, and whatever she saw there made her shoulders slump. She nodded once, then stepped away from me. Then taking a deep breath, she sang. It was the lament she’d sung for Élise, and it echoed hauntingly through the ravine and up into the night sky. Sabine and Victoria moved back, and I dropped to my knees and took my friend’s hand.

  His heart was faltering, his breathing ragged and uneven. It would not be long. But what could I say in the space of moment that would do justice to the troll who’d been like an older brother to me? What was I without him? What would I become without him? The world and fate and the stars had given him nothing. Had stolen away almost everything that had mattered to him. And yet despite all he had endured, he was twice the man I’d ever be. If the world were just and fair, I would be the one lying broken on the rocks.

  But the world was not just. And it most certainly wasn’t fair.

  Say something. I clenched my teeth, desperately searching for the words that would convey how much he meant to me. How badly losing him would hurt. How much I didn’t want to let go. Then he caught my eye, and I knew I didn’t have to say anything all. And in the knowing, I was able to speak. “I hope you find her,” I said, my voice cracking as I clenched his hand tight.

  The light in his eyes glowed bright for that last faltering heartbeat, then burned out.

  Marc was gone.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Cécile

  It took time for me to forgive Tristan, and even longer to understand the choice he’d made, though I never really accepted it. Marc’s loss was a hurt that was felt by many, and whenever I saw Sabine sitting alone, face marked with grief, my anger flared anew, because there had been a chance. A chance for life, for love, for a future, and now…

  I did not know the extent of the relationship between the two of them. How far their sentiment for each other went or whether it had been acknowledged. Sabine never said, and I knew better to ask. Whatever had happened was hers to share. Or not. But I knew he’d left a mark on her soul that would not soon fade, if it ever did.

  There are some who’d say she hadn’t known him long enough to be so affected. I knew better. There are a rare few in this world with the power to touch the hearts of all those they meet, but Marc was one of them. He’d been my first friend in Trollus, and not a day went by that I wasn’t stricken with an anguish so intense it stole my breath. For Marc. And for everyone else who’d fallen.

  The endless tasks demanding my attention helped take my mind off all our friends who had been lost in the battle I’d started. There were countless injured humans who needed a witch’s skill, and Marie dedicated herself to tracking down witches across the Isle who could help, personally guaranteeing their safety. The time of witch burnings was over.

  And so was the time of the trolls. Day after day, I worked my magic on the full-bloods, sending them off into Arcadia through a tear that always appeared at the opportune moment, the trolls stepping through wide-eyed and never looking back. I enlisted some of the other witches to help, because once the flow started, it seemed no one intended to give me a moment’s respite, even to sleep.

  Tristan worked tirelessly to rebuild that which had been destroyed, opening the Trollus coffers to import the food, grain, and supplies that the Isle needed to replace what had been burned. He frequently rode about on a wagon with Chris, distributing the goods to those who needed them, returning filthy, but in high spirits, to the suite of rooms we’d once again taken command of in the Hôtel de Crillon. Those nights we made up for all the time we’d been apart, lying tangled in each other’s arms until dawn, and our respective duties, dragged us out into the sunlight.

  Still, there were times I’d start awake in a cold sweat, convinced that Angoulême had returned, and that we were once again at war. Tristan, too, suffered dreams. Lying awake next to him, I could feel the grief and guilt that plagued his mind, though he refused to speak of them in the morning. Neither of us, I thought, were quite willing to believe we were to be given the chance to live the life we’d dreamed. That we could be together and that no one would have to pay the price of our happiness. But as the days turned into weeks
, I dared to hope. And I think Tristan did, too.

  We both should’ve known better.

  * * *

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I asked. “It does hurt, you know.”

  “You mean all those screams coming from your laboratory weren’t of ecstasy?” Victoria asked, leaning back in her chair and putting her boots on my workstation, which, no matter how many times it was scrubbed, remained stained dark with troll blood. “That’s ominous.”

  I glanced over at Vincent, who sat in the opposite chair, and a ghost of a smile crossed his lips. He still hadn’t spoken, but his eyes were no longer expressionless, and when Victoria, Tristan, or I spoke to him, he listened intently. It was impossible to say whether my spell would cure him, as his affliction was not the result of the iron poisoning his blood. But it was hard not to be hopeful.

  Tristan and I had offered Victoria the chance to be first of those I worked my magic on to send back, but she’d refused, and had instead taken on the responsibility of gathering up the few full-bloods who were reluctant to take their place on my workbench, either for fear of the pain or because their madness did not allow them to understand the opportunity it presented. All had been cured of their iron affliction, although many who had physical deformities maintained their outward appearance by choice, walking through the tear into Arcadia in the same form in which they’d lived their lives.

  The three trolls standing in my presence were all who remained in this world.

  “You aren’t getting soft, are you?” Tristan asked, punching Victoria in the shoulder and then dodging Vincent’s fist. “I never took you for a coward.”

  Their banter drifted to my ears as I prepared the potion, trying not to let my emotions get the better of me. I’d lost so many of those I loved already, and though the twins were hardly dying – I would be making them immortal – it felt much the same. The Summer King wasn’t taking any chances with losing his people to this world a second time, which meant none of the trolls I cured would be able to come back. I’d never see the twins again. A tear ran down my cheek, and I brushed it aside before anyone noticed.