“You are my sister!” And no logic, or reason, or promise of power could undo that fact.
“No one need ever know that.”
My whole body went rigid, the warmth of the room doing nothing to chase away the icy prickles of revulsion sweeping my skin. “I’d know!” I screamed the words into her face. “You’d know!”
She didn’t even flinch. “If this is about Cécile, be assured that I wouldn’t care if you brought her back to Trollus and kept her as your mistress. You’d still be bonded to her, after all. Ours would be primarily a political arrangement.”
I could see in her eyes that she didn’t care. Even if such a match did disgust her, Lessa was more than capable of pushing such feelings aside in her pursuit of power. Or worse, maybe she wasn’t even disgusted by the idea at all. All she wanted was to be queen. It was the only thing that mattered.
“Why do you want this so much?” I wasn’t sure why I asked the question. Maybe it was because standing face to face with her, I realized that this was the first time I’d spoken to Lessa as herself. The resemblance between us was undeniable, which made perfect sense, given we shared half the same blood.
She was my sister, and I had always known that, yet rarely had I spoken to her. Never once had I sought her out or tried to learn more about her, because even as a child, I’d known she was seen as an embarrassment to our family. Someone to be ignored. And by the time I’d grown brave enough for defiance, I’d been in the throes of pretending I considered half-bloods unworthy of my conversation.
It hadn’t been only my father who’d cast her aside, it had been her whole family. She, perhaps more than anyone, understood the cost of having human blood in Trollus. For that, did I not owe her at least the chance to prove that there was something good, some pure reason behind her sordid plan to become queen?
“Isn’t it obvious?” she said, quiet enough that I almost couldn’t hear her. “I was cast aside, sold into slavery, all because my mother had a fractional amount of human blood running through her veins. The fact that half my blood was Montigny counted for nothing. I was a bastard. An embarrassment. I should have been a princess, but instead I have served.” Her voice shook with emotion. “As myself, I will always be denied, but as Anaïs, nothing will be kept from me. Make me your queen, and you will have no fiercer ally in this world.”
She was my father’s daughter. Any doubt that might have existed in my mind about that was gone after hearing those words. There was no desire to do good pushing her toward the crown. No thought that she might change Trollus so that what had happened to her would never happen to another child. No hope that she might prove that half-bloods were worth as much as any full-blooded troll. Because I saw now that she hated the human part of her more than my father, than Angoulême, than me. Blamed it for all that she had suffered. She’d stolen Anaïs’s face to fool everyone else, but more than that, she’d taken it because she well and truly wanted to become the other girl.
Her pursuit of power had nothing to do with overthrowing all the limitations her human blood had placed on her – it was to create a circumstance where she could pretend those limitations didn’t exist because they didn’t apply to her. She cared nothing but for herself, and Trollus had seen enough of that sort of ruler on its throne.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “A thousand times, no. I will have nothing to do with this madness of yours, and rest assured, I will do everything in my power to ensure you are never crowned. And it is not because you are bastard born or that human blood runs in your veins.” I walked forward, leaning in so that we were almost nose to nose. “It is because you are not worthy.”
The blood rushed out of Lessa’s face. “You shouldn’t have said that, Tristan. You really shouldn’t have said that at all.” Before I could so much as blink, a noose of fire wrapped around my neck and jerked me off my feet, stealing my chance to respond. And my ability to breathe.
Anaïs-mask firmly in place, she smiled up at me. “Now I’m going to make you pay.”
Thirty-One
Cécile
Sabine’s face contorted with effort and she spat out the rag shoved between her teeth. Shifting closer, she bit down on the edge of the rag protruding from my mouth, then moved backwards, pulling it out.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
“No,” I whisper-mumbled, my tongue dry. “Fred is helping them – Catherine gave him a spell to put me to sleep. Where’s Chris?”
Sabine’s face tightened. “He went to find Fred, in the hopes he knew where you were.” She moved closer so that both our faces were caught in a faint beam of light. “Oh, Cécile. You heard what they are planning? What are we to do?”
I licked my lips in a futile attempt to moisten them as I considered what I’d learned. My instant reaction to hearing the messenger’s plan was fury that he would use me to manipulate Tristan – it made him no better than the troll king. “I need to think.”
Lord Aiden hated King Thibault – that much was clear. He’d made promises to the troll that he had cause to regret, and he knew the only way to win free of them was to see the King dead. The only troll who could reasonably accomplish this was Tristan, but only if he was alive. Except his life hung in the balance as the result of some twisted effect of my ongoing failure to fulfill my promise.
Aiden needed to help me take advantage of the loophole for his plan to work. There was nothing to stop him from slitting my throat after the King was dead in order to take down Tristan, but why should he? Another troll would only assume control, and whoever it was would be a complete wild card. Better to keep me alive and a prisoner for as long as possible. It was a clever plan.
And one I could appropriate if only we managed to break free in time. “We need to escape,” I whispered. “We need to warn Chris and get the grimoire back.”
If we could escape, subdue Catherine, and retrieve the grimoire, I could perform the map spell again. Then I’d have a few precious hours before Aiden realized I’d escaped in which to track down the witch and attempt to take advantage of the loophole myself. It was far from a perfect plan, but it put control back in my hands, and that was where I wanted it.
“Roll over,” I whispered. “We need to try to get these ropes untied.”
Squirming around in the dirt, we managed to both roll over so we were back to back. Running my fingers over the knot binding Sabine’s wrists to see how it worked, I started picking at the rope. It was harder than I’d imagined it to be, working blind, my numb fingers with their bitten-down nails struggling against the well-tied knot.
Sensing my frustration, Sabine knocked my hands back with hers. “Let me try.”
She worked silently, but there was no missing the shudder in her breath or clammy damp of her fingers. I thought to say something reassuring, but then Catherine passed across the floor above us, her stride full of purpose. Sabine’s fingers froze and I shifted away from her in case the witch decided to check on us. But it was the back door to the shop, not the trapdoor above us, that opened and closed, the bolt turning a second later.
“She’s gone!” Sabine’s voice was shaking.
“Hurry,” I hissed. “We need to catch her!” I was certain she would keep the grimoire on her; it was too dangerous to let out of her sight.
Sabine clawed at the ropes on my hand, letting out an exclamation of triumph when they loosened. Slipping my hands free, I turned on the rope wound about my ankles.
“Go!” Sabine said once I was free. “Catch her! I’ll be fine.”
“No.” There was no way I was leaving my best friend tied up in a cellar. Dropping onto my forearms, I braced her hands with mine, then sank my front teeth into the knot and pulled. My jaw ached with the pressure, but slowly, the knot loosened. Letting go with my teeth, I shoved my finger in the gap that I’d loosened and jerked it free.
“I’ll get my own ankles untied and go warn Chris,” she said, shoving me forward.
Running to the ladder, I leapt up the rungs and
flung open the trapdoor. Dodging through the clutter to the front of the shop, I flung open the door and went out into the street. There were plenty of people walking about, but none were Catherine. She couldn’t have gone far. She’d said she needed supplies, which had to mean one of the markets. Snatching my skirts up in one hand, I started running.
* * *
I searched everywhere I could think, ignoring the stares of those curious as to why I was running like a madwoman through the streets, but Catherine was nowhere to be found. Sitting down on the edge of a walkway, I let the realization sink in that it was time to make my choice. Because I had not forgotten what else I’d learned: there was another way to break the curse, but only if I wanted it badly enough.
Twisting the end of my braid into a knot, I put not my mind but my heart to the question – did I want the trolls freed? If so, then I needed to attempt to break Anushka’s will now. If not, I needs must submit to Lord Aiden’s plan and fulfill my promise, if not in spirit, then by the letter, to the troll king and come what may with the results. A hundred thousand times I’d run through the pros and cons, the merits and the costs, and I knew what I was choosing was between a dreadful known and a dreadfully risky unknown.
I knew with painful certainty what would happen if I submitted: the trolls were doomed. But what would happen if I freed them? I wasn’t sure. The cost to human life could be beyond reckoning. Or the good I’d seen in Trollus might triumph, and there would be a chance that we could make everything work. That my friends I trusted so implicitly were strong enough to make things right.
Choose.
Squaring my shoulders, I got to my feet and started toward the city gate.
I would take this leap of faith.
* * *
“How much for the ox?” I asked, pointing to the aging creature in the feedlot outside Trianon. I had the hood of my cloak up, my face shadowed from the afternoon sun.
The proprietor raised an eyebrow and named an exorbitant price.
“That’s outrageous,” I muttered. “The creature won’t live another year.”
He shrugged. “It’s what the meat is worth.”
I chewed on the insides of my cheeks, knowing I didn’t have that amount of coin on me and that I didn’t have the time to procure it. Reluctantly, I unclasped my necklace from my neck and held it aloft – it was time I ceased wearing it anyway. All it symbolized was death.
“It’s gold,” I said. “Take it, and you’ll be ahead in the bargain.”
The man had played this game long enough to know not to react, but there was no mistaking the covetous way he watched the necklace swing from my hand. “Let me see it.”
I dropped the piece of jewelry into his palm. He judged the weight, bit the metal, and nodded.
Jerking my chin toward an ax embedded in a block of wood, I said, “I want that included, and a lantern as well.”
Both eyebrows went up at that, but he only nodded. I’d given him enough gold to excuse me from answering questions.
* * *
The light was fading into the orange of dusk by the time I reached the beach, the wind howling and cold, and the grey-tossed waves surging in on the coming tide. I led the ox down below the tide line. Whether it worked or not, the water would wash away the physical evidence of what I’d done.
The magnitude of the sacrifice affected the amount of power, which is why I’d chosen the largest creature I reasonably could have. But Anushka had killed a troll king, and I strongly suspected there was nothing I could sacrifice that would trump his death. I hoped to make up the difference by using regular magic as well, so I set up the scene as a ritual, praying that I’d be able draw enough power from the elements. It would have been better to do it on the full moon, but the best I could manage was to time it for the moment of transition at sunset.
Tying the ox to a fallen tree, I worked quickly, gathering up sticks and branches and arranging them in a circle about ten feet above the rising tide. I liberally sprinkled lamp oil on the branches for good measure. Kicking off my boots, I tossed them high on the beach; and retrieving the ox, I led him inside the circle. The wind caught and tore at my hair, but I ignored it, all my attention for the creature in front of me. He was old and tired from years of overuse, but knowing that didn’t make me feel any better about what I intended to do. Now was not the time to lose my nerve.
Forsaken Mountain rose up to the south, its sheared-off face higher than all the others. So far away, and yet it seemed I might reach out and touch it. The sun dipped lower and lower, the tide rising higher and higher. Digging a hand into the damp sand, I pulled on the power in the earth, feeling it rise and fill me to the core. As the orange orb of the sun brushed the tip of Forsaken Mountain, I touched the flame to the branches. A circular wall of fire rose around me, and in my periphery, I saw the waves divide, surging around the circle and up onto the beach. The ox sidled around, fear glittering in its eyes.
“Be still,” I whispered, and though the wind raged around us, the animal grew quiet.
The magic filling me felt good and clean and pure, but I knew it wasn’t enough. Nowhere near enough.
Picking up the ax, I hefted it in my hands, feeling strong and weak at the same time. This was wrong. Nothing about it was right. But I was going to do it anyway.
I swung hard.
There was blood everywhere. The ox collapsed, dying. No, dead. And I fell to my knees with it.
I was flush with magic. A raw, wild, and directionless power than knew no purpose other than my will. My eyes filled with tears and burned from the brilliance of the last sliver of sun, but I couldn’t blink, couldn’t even move. It was too much. It hurt. It was more than one body could contain.
So I let it go.
But not before I spoke the words. Not before I gave it a purpose. “End Anushka’s curse. Set the trolls free.”
I felt Anushka’s shock as our wills collided, the ground itself shaking from the impact. If I had not already been on my knees, I would have fallen. The surf surged high, spraying and hissing against the flames as I struggled against her, my body aching, exhausted, fighting…
And failing.
The waves doused the flames, slamming into my back and knocking me forward. The icy water closed over my head, catching at my clothing and pulling me back. Coughing and spluttering, I crawled on hands and knees until I was out of the reach of the waves, and then I curled up in a ball, disappointment at my failure carving into my guts.
Anushka hadn’t only used the earth’s power to bind the trolls – she’d used the dying troll king’s magic. And knowing it was so made me realize that Catherine had been wrong when she’d said a name didn’t matter. It did. Because Anushka hadn’t only cursed the mortal creatures I knew so well, she’d cursed all of their kind, binding the trolls to their city and their immortal brethren from coming to our world for fear of the same. And I did not know what they called themselves, because Tristan had never trusted me enough to say.
But more than that, what I hadn’t had was the desire to see the trolls freed. Anushka hated them – had managed to survive all these long years in order to keep them contained. Nothing mattered more to her, and in order to break her curse, I needed to want them free equally as much or more.
But I didn’t. At least, not all of them. There was only one who I’d do anything for.
“Let him go!” I screamed the words over and over until I couldn’t pull any more air into my lungs, and had to repeat it in my head.
Then, up out of my mind swam a memory or a dream, or the memory of a dream of summer. What you seek is the name of that which you most desire…
With all the strength I had left, I pushed myself up on one elbow, my eyes fixing on the fading glow that was all that was left of the setting sun. A moment of transition, and thus a moment of power. “Let Tristanthysium be free of Anushka’s curse.”
A pulse shuddered through the air, and I slumped back onto the sand. Darkness that was more than night swept
over my eyes, but before all the light was gone I whispered one more thing: “Tristanthysium, come to me.”
Thirty-Two
Tristan
Lessa was every bit as powerful as her blood warranted, and the full strength of her magic was directed into the noose choking off my breath and the shield keeping me from attacking her directly. Before she could crush my throat, I shoved power between my flesh and her magic, but there we reached a stalemate. I tried to pull the rope off, but it was intractable, slithering and reforming every time I broke a piece away. I couldn’t breathe. I needed air, and spots were forming in front of my eyes as I tried and failed to force aside her magic.
I needed the iron out of my flesh.
But almost as though she sensed my thoughts, another invisible rope bound my wrists to my sides, sending ripples of agony up my arms. My mouth opened in a silent scream of pain, and I turned on her shield, hammering it with all the power I had. The air shuddered with the echoing boom-boom of my magic colliding with hers, but it was a struggle to find leverage hanging in the air as I was. I could feel her magic cracking and splintering under the blows, saw her eyes widen as she realized that even now, I was more powerful than her. Except that I could feel myself failing. I had to get through her shields within seconds, or all was lost.
With the strength only desperation could bring, I sliced at the magic rope holding me up in the air. Landing on unsteady feet, I took only a second to find my balance before attacking her shield. The force of it imploding made the stone walls of the palace groan, the noise drowning out the sound of the door slamming open.
Which is why Lessa didn’t see Victoria until it was too late. Her fist connected just under Lessa’s ribs, driving the air out of her lungs and sending her staggering back. “That’s for Anaïs,” Victoria shouted, and before Lessa could react, my friend punched her hard in the side of the face, the crunch of bone audible from across the room. “And that’s for me.”
Hidden Huntress Page 24
