"You were supposed to have him killed."

"And I will." Gla.s.s clinked against gla.s.s, and I envisioned the Duke pouring himself a drink to calm his irritation. "As much as I despise your brother, he is a Montigny. Felling him is no easy thing, and his human seems to have nine lives' worth of luck."

"I want him to come back."

"That is the last thing you should want, Highness."

"I want him to be as he was before her."

I was fairly certain her was me, and if Roland blamed me for his brother's changed behavior, that would explain the intensity of his dislike.

"You know he was only pretending to be that way before," Angouleme said. "He deceived everyone."

Roland did not reply, and I wished desperately that I could see his face. There was something about his tone of voice when he spoke about wanting Tristan's return, something that made me think he actually cared for him in some fashion. It made me realize that I knew very little about the relationship, such as it was, between the two brothers. It made me wonder if there was something worth salvaging in that monster of a boy after all.

"Anais is upstairs," Angouleme finally said. "Why don't you bring the game to her? I'm sure it would please her greatly to play with you."

"It would be the kind thing to do?" Roland asked, as though he really was not certain what was kindness and what was not.

"Yes, Your Highness. Most kind indeed."

No one said anything, but moments later a door opened and closed, and I heard the patter of small feet running up a flight of stairs.

"You said you had him under control," the Dowager d.u.c.h.esse snapped. "Blasted creature is a menace to all!"

"I do have him under control." Gla.s.s clinked again. "It isn't as though I can go ordering him about by name in the middle of the street."

"What choice do you have?" Her voice was bitter. "Roland is as mad as any I've encountered a Montigny mind and power utterly corrupted by iron. If he were anyone other than who he is, Thibault would have had him put down years ago. He feels nothing cares nothing for anything but his own black pleasures, and while he may not be so clever as his brother, he's wily enough to find ways around your weak controls."

"We need him for there to be any chance of taking the throne."

Both were silent for a long time, making me believe that Damia was in agreement. But then she spoke.

"He has outplayed you, my son." Her voice dripped with mockery, and I felt a moment's pity for him having her as a mother. "Thibault has been playing a longer game than anyone believed, I think. And if Tristan succeeds in breaking the curse, the Montignys will rule in a way that has not been seen since the time of the great kings and queens of old."

"What is it you would have me do?"

"Send Roland to kill his father now. With the boy on the throne, we control Trollus and its gold. With that, it is only a matter of sending every greedy cutthroat at our disposal after Cecile. She is their weakness in every possible way, and she will die for it. And once they are dead, we will play our long-held trump card and the world will bend its knee to us."

I'd heard enough. Rising to my feet, I started to turn when the sensation of power froze me in my tracks.

"And they say there are no rats in Trollus," said a young woman's voice from behind me. "It would appear they're wrong. h.e.l.lo, Cecile."

Forty-Five.

Cecile

Anais stood behind me, arms crossed and expression much like a cat who has cornered a mouse. Only it wasn't the girl I'd known, but an impostor. It was Lessa.

"Does my brother know you're here?" she asked. "Seems a bit reckless for him."

"He's here," I whispered, stepping back and colliding with the wall. "Closer than you think."

Lessa chuckled. "Not close enough."

Her hand shot out and caught me by the throat. I tried to scream, but I could hardly breathe. She lifted me off the ground in front of her, smiling as I kicked and struggled. Panic flooded through me, and I clawed at her arms, but the scratches disappeared in an instant. She was going to kill me.

Then I remembered Roland's knife hidden in my pocket. Catching hold of the small handle, I jerked it out and sliced it across her forearm.

Lessa hissed in pain and dropped me, but I only had a second to suck in a breath before she lunged at me again. Digging deep for the magic I needed, I choked out the words, "Bind the light."

She stopped in her tracks, false face full of astonishment. But it wouldn't last she knew what I'd done. And when she dove at me, I held the knife out, my arms shuddering with the impact as it slid between her ribs. She screamed, curling around herself and clutching at the knife. But I knew I hadn't killed her I needed to run.

The door to the antechamber flung open, the Duke appearing with his mother just behind him.

"Prince Roland attacked Lady Anais," I screamed, then shoved between them as though in a fit of terror. Which was not far from the truth. I had seconds. Sprinting to the entrance, I flung it open and dashed toward the gates. "Prince Roland is on a rampage!" I screamed. "He stabbed Lady Anais, and now he's gone after the Duke!"

I saw the fear rise in their eyes, but to their credit, every one of them ran toward the house, giving me the few precious seconds I needed to escape. My throat burned where Lessa's fingers had dug in, but I did not dare stop. There were no gaps between properties for me to hide in, no alleyways or pa.s.sages to turn down. I had to make it to the staircase leading up to the last row of houses before the perimeter or I was a dead woman.

Shouts echoed in the streets behind me, and I heard my name on the air. They knew it was me. They were coming.

Magic wrapped around my waist, lifting me off my feet and dropping me on the other side of a wall before I could speak.

"Be silent." elise shoved me back against the wall, her hand against my mouth.

Half a dozen sets of feet ran by us, and both of us held our breath until they pa.s.sed. Then I flung my arms around her neck. When the sound of the waterfall disappeared and I knew our voices were shielded, I whispered. "Thank you. How did you know I was here?"

"I saw you go into Pierre's," she said. "Your eye and skin color was altered, but I'd recognize the faces you make anywhere." She squeezed my shoulders. "Is Tristan here?"

With one shaking hand, I pointed up at the moon hole. "He's waiting to lift me out I need to reach the perimeter, but I don't know how I'm going to get by everyone who's looking for me."

elise looked up at the roof, her face filled with a mix of emotion too complex to pick apart. "I'll distract them. Give me your cloak."

"You can't! If they think you're me, they'll kill you."

She shook her head. "The Duke will want to catch you first and once they realize it's me, they'll let me go. I belong to the Queen and the d.u.c.h.esse no one will dare harm me."

I didn't want her to do it. I'd already lost Pierre today, and the thought of risking another friend's life made me grit my teeth. But her logic was sound, and there was no other choice.

"We need to get you out of here alive," she whispered. "Your husband owes me a favor, and I can't collect on it if he's dead."

Reluctantly, I slid off my cloak and handed it to her. "Please be careful."

"You too." There were questions in her eyes things I knew she wanted to ask. But we had no time. Pulling the hood up so that it obscured her face, she hugged me hard. "Go through this property there is a gate at the rear."

Then she was gone.

I stood frozen, part of me unwilling to leave her to our enemies. But that part of me was a fool, because elise had given me the only chance I had. So I began to pick my way through the dark garden, moving as silently as I could to avoid detection from whatever trolls lived within. The gate in the wall was barely visible in the ambient light of the house and street lamps, and I was closing my fingers on the latch when I heard screams tear through the air. "elise!" Her name forced its way through my lips, but I didn't turn back.

Flinging open the gate, I ran. Ahead was the narrow pathway leading up to the perimeter, and I sprinted toward it, my boots slapping hard against the stones of the street. They were coming. I could hear them coming. The pathway seemed endless, the rocks marking the boundary of Trollus impossibly far away.

Then I was there. Skidding on the tiny fallen pebbles, I ran next to the stacked boulders of rock, my eyes fixed on the faint glow of the ropes of magic waiting for me.

"There she is!"

Risking a glance over my shoulder, I saw two of the Duke's guards come out of the pathway. It would take them a bit of time to cover the distance on foot, but I knew their magic would span the distance in seconds. Flinging myself forward, I closed my hand around the glowing ropes. Tristanthysium, get me out!

Magic closed around me like a cage, lifting me up off the ground and into the sky. Blows slammed against the shield protecting me, silver light exploding all around in sparks. Gone was slowness and stealth, and my stomach lurched as I was jerked across the cavern, the force holding me against the floor of my invisible bubble so that I couldn't move. I was helpless and in full view of countless trolls who wanted to see me dead.

Then sunlight was burning in my eyes.

"Cecile!"

Tristan caught me against him, stumbling back. "You're covered in blood. Are you hurt?"

I knew logically his face was inches from mine, but he seemed far away, his voice distant. Like I was watching him search another girl for injuries, for the source of all the blood. My hands were sticky with it. Soaked in it.

"a.n.u.shka's going to kill my mother tomorrow night." I heard the words, but I couldn't feel my lips forming them. "Roland's going to kill your father. Angouleme has elise. And Pierre..." I fell back into myself, shock receding and leaving a world of hurt in its wake. "Pierre is dead."

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I buried my face in Tristan's chest.

And I wept.

Forty-Six.

Tristan

I watched Cecile ride somewhat ahead of me, her shoulders slumped beneath the bulk of my coat. What she'd told me seconds after I'd pulled her out had put my head in a spin, but she'd dissolved into hysterics seconds later, so I'd had to wait until I'd carried her off the rocks and calmed her down enough to extract more details. After she'd told me everything, she'd gone quiet. Numb.

And that made me wish for the tears to come back, because at least those were normal for her. I could wipe them away and know she'd be herself soon enough. But seeing her like this, her dull and empty eyes a reflection of what I felt in my head, made me afraid that she'd finally been pushed too far.

That fear had made me want to take her somewhere safe, and before I'd known what I was saying, I'd asked her which way to take to get to her family's farm. Now we were on the road to Goshawk's Hollow, and despite there being countless reasons we needed to be back in Trianon, I knew it was the correct decision. She needed time to recover.

And so did I.

Despite my best efforts, I couldn't shove the pain of Pierre's death from the forefront of my thoughts. I'd known him all my life, and while I'd never burdened him as a confidant, he'd been my friend. My mentor in matters that had nothing to do with politics. I remembered the first time I'd met him. My father had led me by the hand through the city, stopping in front of Pierre's door and kneeling down to speak with me.

"Tristan, Pierre is the most intelligent and learned troll I know. I want you to listen to the things he says and to learn from him, do you understand?"

I blinked away the vision of my father's face and shivered against the cold wind cutting through the thin cloth of my shirt. The Dowager d.u.c.h.esse's words troubled me deeply. Trump card. Trump card. The word repeated in my head, and I knew it could refer to only one thing: a.n.u.shka's ident.i.ty. Angouleme knew who she was, and once my father and I were dead, he intended to use the information to secure his power.

Grinding my teeth, I heeled my horse up alongside Cecile's. She held her reins with one hand, the other curled loosely against her thigh. I took hold of her fingers, and they were cold even through the leather of my gloves. "You're freezing." Pulling my glove off with my teeth, I enclosed her hand in mine, trying to chase away the chill.

"Cecile, are you all right?"

It was a stupid question. I knew she wasn't, but I needed her to say something. Anything.

She turned her head to look up at me. "Will they hurt her?"

elise. It took a lot of effort not to look away. A year ago, I would've answered without hesitation that Angouleme wouldn't dare cross my family by hurting one of ours. But so much had changed since then, and I strongly suspected that elise had not escaped unscathed.

"My aunt will do what she can for elise."

Cecile pulled her hand out of my grip. "That isn't an answer."

"elise knew the risk she was taking," I said. "You didn't force her to do anything."

"Didn't I?" She shoved her hand into the pocket of my coat. "It was my idea to go to Trollus. My decision to linger in the Duke's home to eavesdrop when I could have walked away without trouble. If I had only left, she wouldn't have needed to put herself in danger." Her face tightened. "I should have listened to you when you told me it was too dangerous. If anything happens to her, it's my fault."

"That doesn't mean it was a mistake. You gained valuable insight that we never would have known if you hadn't made those choices." I said the words knowing they sounded callous. Anais would have argued that the reward was well worth the risk. Marc would have said that the choices had been made and that we'd need to live with the consequences. My father would say that hard choices were part and parcel of being king.

But what did I think?

"I know that the last thing you ever want is for someone to be hurt," I said. "I know that given the choice, you'd forfeit your life to save that of a friend. But you know what would have happened if you had interfered when they came for Pierre. If you hadn't let elise help you escape. If you'd sacrificed yourself for them, what of everyone else? You don't have a thousand lives to live or give; and as much as you might hate to think it, fate and fortune and whatever other powers are at work have made it so that your life is more important."