"How charming he is!" My mother clapped her hands together and we both twitched. "Best be off. You don't want to be late."

Once we were outside, I said, "Marie's ladies were talking about you at rehearsals today. Of a certainty, she knows you are in Trianon. And if she knows, so does a.n.u.shka."

"Good," he said, although it seemed as if he hadn't really heard me. I gripped his arm above the elbow as we walked down the slippery steps, uncertain of the state of his wrists and knowing better than to ask.

"I meant what I said," he added. "You look beautiful tonight. That dress..." he trailed off.

"I'm supposed to be trying to seduce you into giving me all your money."

"Trying?" He laughed. "You have succeeded, and in doing so, quite driven thoughts of anything else from my mind."

"Your focus on our task is admirable," I said, but secretly I was pleased.

"If I am distracted, it is your fault. You have been my undoing since the day we met."

The coachman opened the door to the carriage, and Tristan helped me inside.

"Good evening, Cecile," Monsieur Bouchard said, his loud voice filling the small s.p.a.ce. I'd met him several times previously, as he was a subscriber, and the nephews sitting next to him as well. "Good evening," I replied. "I understand I have you to thank for giving Monsieur de Montigny an excuse to see me tonight."

"Glad to oblige." The older man winked at Tristan as the carriage started forward. "I wanted proof that he wasn't all bl.u.s.ter and that you two truly were acquainted."

"Oh, yes," I said, smiling up at Tristan. "We met in Courville this summer. I was ever so pleased when he decided to join society in Trianon."

"And from now on, I shall go to Cecile with all my questions," Bouchard said. "She is far less taciturn than you, Montigny."

I laughed. "He h.o.a.rds his secrets like a miser does his coin, I'm afraid. I spent all summer trying to pry them out, and I'm quite certain I barely scratched the surface."

"For good reason," Tristan replied. "It gives me an air of mystery. If I told you everything, I'd risk you realizing that I'm really quite dull."

"I doubt that," I said, then the carriage hit a dip in the road, bouncing me sideways against Tristan.

"Steady!" Bouchard shouted, banging on the wall. "Curse these roads. Something needs to be done about them."

Except I didn't curse them at all. Even through the layers of my skirts, I could feel the press of Tristan's hip against mine, the brush of his coat against my neck as he rested his arm along the back of the seat, the way his breath tickled my hair. I wanted to lean against him, but the gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt on the other men's faces told me I was already skirting the line of what was proper. I wanted them gone so it wouldn't matter, and from the burn of the heat in the back of my head, I knew the same thought had crossed Tristan's mind.

There isn't anything stopping you. The thought that I'd been thinking more and more over the past few days, crept across my mind even as I laughed along at a joke I hadn't even heard. He is your husband.

I considered the reasons why our intimacy had been limited before. Certainly a child was a complication we could not afford. Our lives were too much in jeopardy, and I couldn't even bear to think about what would happen to our baby if we were both killed. Half-blood as it would be, if the King got his hands on our child, would he not sell it off as a slave as he had done with Lessa? And that would be if he didn't kill it out of hand. And wasn't there a certain inevitability that the child would have to go to Trollus as long as the curse remained? Would it happen the moment it was born? Before? I shivered at the idea.

The carriage pulled to a stop beneath the domed side entrance reserved for subscribers and other important guests. Tristan stepped out first, then helped me down. "What are you thinking?" he asked quietly, leading me toward the doors the liveried men held open for us.

"The compulsion is getting bad again," I said, because it was true and he needed to know, and I didn't want to admit that the only thing that chased it off was my l.u.s.ty thoughts.

"Keep in your mind that you are doing what you promised you would," he said softly. "She knows my intent, and she'll come after me sooner rather than later. She has to."

I knew he was trying to make me feel better, but the reminder that a.n.u.shka would try to hurt him or kill him did anything but. He was not afraid of her, but I was. There was no one alive who knew more about trolls, and she'd killed one as powerful as him before.

Sensing his words had the opposite effect than he'd intended, he reached up with his free hand and squeezed mine where it rested on his arm. Then he lowered his head, his breath warm against my ear. "I know that wasn't what you were thinking about."

My cheeks flushed, but a smile crept onto my face. "Perhaps not."

My mother had taken me on a tour of the opera house soon after I'd arrived in Trianon, but sometime since, I'd lost an appreciation for how extraordinary it really was. Marble colonnades banded with gilt twisted up to ceilings painted with soft golds and blues, with ma.s.sive crystal chandeliers hanging one after another to light the long stretch of the grand foyer.

We were somewhat late, and went straight to Bouchard's box on the second level of the horseshoe-shaped theatre and took our seats, the lights already dimmed and the curtain up. Willowy girls in white tulle flitted across the stage, and even though I'd seen them perform countless times before, I could not help but marvel at their grace, lifting up onto their tiptoes in shiny satin shoes, limbs impossibly flexible. Tristan leaned forward against the railing as he watched, his expression captivated. This, like so much else, was not something he'd ever seen before.

My eyes went to his wrists, where the sleeves of his coat and shirt pulled up ever so slightly. Instead of skin between cuff and glove, there was black fabric wrapped around his wrist. I turned my gaze back to the stage before he could catch me looking, but my stomach still clenched. Five days, and still not better. It was past time I ask him to let me try to heal the injuries.

A waiter brought gla.s.ses of wine, and Tristan leaned back in his seat and sipped at his, never taking his eyes off the stage. What did he think, I wondered, at this display of humanity? Of the color and the vibrancy, of the filth and the beauty, of the faces and features so wildly different from those in Trollus? Did it change the way he felt about me?

Fingers brushed against mine, and I started, the wine sloshing back and forth in my gla.s.s. Never taking his eyes from the stage, Tristan locked his fingers in mine, our hands hidden in the folds of my skirt.

He shifted almost imperceptibly my direction, and, keeping watch on Bouchard out of the corner of my eye to make sure he didn't notice, I did the same. My shoulder brushed against his arm, and heat trickled through my veins, building low in my stomach. I took a sip of my drink, the lights on the stage seeming bright and unfocused. His knee b.u.mped against mine, and I inhaled deeply, feeling my b.r.e.a.s.t.s press tight against the bodice of my dress. My skin flushed with desire that had no outlet, slowly filling me until I could think of nothing else. Would he ask me back to the hotel tonight? Should I ask him?

Abruptly the curtain dropped and the lights went up. Tristan dropped my hand as though it were on fire, looking at me in surprise. Intermission, I mouthed, and he nodded slightly. We all rose and stepped out into the corridor. As we did, I noticed a wave of bows and curtsies coming in our direction, but I was too short to see which of the peers was in the house tonight.

Tristan was not. A vicious wave of his anger filled me, and I held tight to his arm, rising up onto my tiptoes to see who it was just in time to watch Lord Aiden's eyes light on Tristan. Fred and one other guard stood behind him, and I watched the expression on my brother's face darken as he realized whom I was with. The men surrounding us bowed low and I dropped into a curtsey, hauling on Tristan's arm as I did. He bowed, but only just.

"You're far from home, Montigny." His eyes went to me. "Well done, mademoiselle. I underestimated you."

"You are not the first, my lord," I said. The corridor had gone from slightly chilly to hotter than midday in the height of summer, and I dug my fingernails into Tristan's arm, praying he would not react any more than that. "And undoubtedly, you won't be the last."

Lord Aiden's gaze went back to Tristan. "I'd have a word with you, Montigny."

"As you like." Tristan's tone was flat.

The other men noticed the lack of honorific and their eyebrows rose. As I followed Tristan back into the box, I met Bouchard's gaze and rolled my eyes as though the tension were nothing more than the posturing of young men, and nothing to be concerned about.

"No interruptions," Aiden muttered to the other guard, but allowed Fred to follow us in.

The door clicked shut, but it was magic that drowned out the voices in the corridor and the musicians tweaking their instruments in the pit. Fred frowned, and his hand drifted to the pistol at his waist.

"Don't," I said, and the flames of the ma.s.sive chandelier overhead flared brightly. Fred blinked, then turned to me, incredulity written across his face. "And don't you dare look at me like that," I snarled. "Not after what you did."

"It was for your own good," he said. "I was only trying to help you."

My head jerked from side to side in furious denial. "Say you did it because you don't agree with the choices I've made. Say you did it because you wanted to stop me from freeing the trolls. Or because your loyalty is to him." I jerked my chin in Aiden's direction. "But don't you dare claim that you did it for me when we both know you did it to control me."

"Cecile." He reached for me, voice pleading, but I stepped back. "Is that why you hate our mother so much? Because she didn't make choices you liked? Because she wouldn't change to be the person you wanted her to be?"

It was a low blow, but as I watched Fred blanch, I found I was too angry to care.

"That's not the reason," he stammered. "You've got it backwards. She made me choose between her and Father. And when I wouldn't take her side..." He swallowed hard. "She made me pay for it."

"And now you're doing the same to me." I went to stand next to Tristan, who leaned against the edge of the balcony, feeling my anger fuel his and his fuel mine. No good can come from this...

"What do you want from us?" I snapped at Aiden, struggling with the desire to have my own revenge for what he had done to me, for what he had intended to do to my friends.

"Tell me why you killed her," he demanded. "You could have taken the book back and gone. Catherine was only a p.a.w.n she didn't need to die."

I frowned, more surprised at his sentiment toward the dead woman than his accusation that we were her murderers. It had seemed to me that he'd despised her had only allied with her out of sheer necessity. But perhaps I'd been wrong. "I thought you hated her."

He leveled me with a dark stare. "I needed her."

Of course.

"We didn't kill her," I said, not bothering to hide my disgust. "When we arrived, her shop was in flames. Tristan got her out, but it was too late."

Fred's shoulders slumped with obvious relief. "Thank G.o.d," he muttered.

Hurt sliced through me. "You didn't honestly believe I'd murdered a woman in cold blood?"

"Some people will do just about anything for the sake of revenge," he replied, staring at the ground. "And I'm not even going to guess at what he's capable of." Fred lifted his head to glare at Tristan.

"If I was so quick to kill, let me a.s.sure you, His Lordship" Tristan coated the word with mockery "would have been the first to go."

"Then by all means, get it over with," Aiden snapped. "Quit this pretense at being human, troll, and show your true colors."

Tristan's disguise melted away, and in two strides he was in Aiden's face. "I gave you a chance to do a small good to help Cecile but instead you thought only of yourself and pursued a plan as evil as any of my father's. If you had saved her, I would have done what I could to help you, and our future might look very different. But now all you are is my enemy, and you will come to regret that fact."

Fred shifted, and I turned to give him a warning look only to find his brow furrowed and his gaze fixed on Aiden. The Regent's son had not, I suspected, told him the whole of the truth, and my brother would not take well to having been manipulated.

"The only regret I have is that my plan failed, because I lost my chance to see a future unenc.u.mbered by your father and the rest of your wretched race of creatures," Aiden snarled. "I swear that I'll never stop until I find a way to see every last one of you on your knees, starving, dying, and begging for the mercy of humanity. But let me a.s.sure you, troll, I will show you none."

Tristan's temper snapped, and in a motion almost too fast to see, he lifted Aiden off his feet by the throat and slammed him into the wall. Fred swore and tried to reach for his pistol, but the effects of my compulsion remained and he settled for his sword. I opened my mouth to stop him, but before I could speak, the blade tore from his grip, spinning in a silver blur across the theatre to embed itself in the box across from us. Fred lunged toward the two, but magic caught him, pinning him to the ground.

I stood still, and though everything had happened within seconds, time seemed to slow as I watched Aiden's face darken, the dagger he'd managed to pull from his belt banging ineffectually against magic, his free hand clawing against Tristan's fingers. A cruel and vengeful part of my soul wanted to stand back and let him die. This man who was servant to the King I despised. Who had kidnapped me and tried to use me against those I loved. Who had threatened to kill an entire race of people because of the hatred he had for one troll. What mercy did he deserve?

But what sort of person was I if I did not give it? Even through his fury, I could feel Tristan's hesitation. I knew how strong he was that he could've snapped Aiden's neck with one hand or worse. Yet instead he let death creep slowly toward the other man, not because he was cruel, but because he wasn't a killer. That he was merciful by nature was what made him different from his father, from Angouleme, from Roland; and for us to have any hope of making a future worth living, he needed to remain that way.

"Tristan, he's baiting you. Let him go." I moved forward, forcing my mind to calm and our mutual anger to temper. "If you kill him, everything will come out. It's what he wants."

Tristan's grip lessened, and with a hiss of disgust, he dropped Aiden to the ground. Casting a black look at Fred, he released him, then went to the balcony to look over the edge.

I knelt down next to the man who was destined to one day rule the Isle, watching as he wheezed and choked, hand pressed against his bruised throat. "You believe yourself better because you are human," I said. "But you are not. You are weak, selfish, and your word means nothing. You are not fit to rule a privy. Get out of my sight, or I'll spell you with an itch upon your privates that will have you squirming for the rest of your days."

Not waiting to see if he listened, I poured two gla.s.ses of wine and forced one into Tristan's hand as the door open and closed, both of them departed. "Pull yourself together," I said. "Bouchard and his nephews will be upon us in moments."

He nodded, eyes reverting to grey as they fixed on the people flooding back into their seats below. "They'll never be safe while caged by the curse," he said softly. "They are in danger from within and without, and what can I do to help them? How can I protect them?"

There was only one answer, but I bit my lip and said nothing until I heard the other men come back into the box.

"Is all well?" Bouchard asked, his brow furrowed.

"Everything is splendid," I replied. "I believe the second half is about to begin."

"I didn't realize you were acquainted with Lord Aiden du Chastelier," he said once Tristan had turned around.

Tristan didn't answer, so I kicked him in the ankle.

"We've met in pa.s.sing," he eventually said. "He knows my father."

I could see another question forming on Bouchard's tongue, but now was not the time for inquisitiveness. "The curtain's rising," I said swiftly. "Best we take our seats."

Whether the girls performed well or not in the second half, I could not have said, for I spent it with one eye on Tristan and the other on my thoughts. King Thibault might believe he had control over Lord Aiden, but we'd seen proof that control was tenuous at best. There were ways around any oath he only needed to find them. And then what? His hatred of the trolls wasn't limited to those who'd crossed him.

He wanted the entire race exterminated, and I knew that was what troubled Tristan. He'd always known the dangers his people faced from within Trollus, but I wasn't sure he ever really considered what a threat humanity could be if they moved against the trolls en ma.s.se. Which might very well happen if Thibault died or Aiden found a way around his oaths.

Then what would we do? What would Tristan do if his people's lives were in danger? How far would he go to keep them safe? I desperately wanted to know Tristan's thoughts, but now was not the time or place to ask them. Regardless of what had happened, we had a strategy in play, and to abandon it would be folly.

After the performance, we went to the foyer to see the dancers. The men all watched them with covetous eyes, except for Tristan, who was examining the portraits lining the room, expression light, and his mind grim. "Where is that necklace now?" he asked me. "Could you use it in place of the book?"

I used it to buy the ox that I slaughtered as part of a ritual sacrifice to set you free.

"I sold it." I'd told my mother that it was with the jewelers having the chain repaired. Lies, lies, lies. But I didn't want him to know what I had done.

"What for?"

"Coin."

"Why? You're hardly dest.i.tute."

"After I saw them all wearing it, it made me feel strange. I didn't want it anymore."

He stepped closer so that no one would overhear. "That was a mistake. Tell me the p.a.w.nbroker you sold it to and I'll get it back."

"It wasn't a shop. It was just a... a man I met in pa.s.sing. I'll tell you where to find him later."

The magic of his disguise faded for a heartbeat and then his eyes were back to grey. "You know how I feel about lies, Cecile. Especially coming from you, and especially when the lives of my people are at stake. You may have lost our only chance for the sake of money to spend on trinkets and toys."

I knew his foul temper was less to do with me and more to do with Lord Aiden's threats, but it didn't feel that way. All I'd wanted was one night where I could feel normal. One night where I could pretend we had a sure future together. It had been a silly desire, but I couldn't help but feel upset at seeing it torn away from me. One night was all I had wanted. Had that been so much to ask?

"I gave it to a stockman in exchange for an ox, and the ax I used to kill it, as part of the spell that broke you free," I said, and not waiting for his reaction, I turned and walked away.

Moving as quickly as I could without attracting undue attention, I left the foyer and made my way backstage to the crew entrance. There was no one outside, so I leaned against the stone of the building, gulping in mouthfuls of cold air. The moon was very nearly full, and I stared up at it, wishing the power I'd used had come from such a pure source.

"It has been a long time, Cecile," a familiar voice said from behind me. I lowered my eyes from the moon, and fear charged through my heart as I came face to face with the pistol leveled between my eyes.