Hidden Huntress

by Danielle L. Jensen

  Dragging in a breath, I lurched in their direction. Victoria had caught Lessa by surprise, but my sister was still more powerful.

  But I needn’t have worried, because Vincent and Marc had been right on her heels.

  Lessa’s eyes flicked between them, the crushed bones of her face slowly reforming. “I’m going to make you suffer for this,” she said, her voice garbled by her shattered jaw.

  “That a challenge?” Victoria asked, smiling as she rubbed her knuckles. “Because if it is, I accept.”

  “A duel to the death, perhaps?” Vincent added, clapping his hands together. “Everyone enjoys those.”

  Lessa licked her lips nervously, using the wall behind her as support as she climbed to her feet. “You can’t kill me,” she whispered. “You can’t… He’ll punish you.”

  “Oh, she is a liar, isn’t she?” Victoria said, voice dripping with uncharacteristic malice. “I’m more than capable of killing you, Lessa.”

  “Let her go.” I coughed, my throat itching as it healed the damage the noose had done. Was it taking longer than normal? “I’ll not stoop to her level.” Just yet.

  The twins’ faces fell, but they let Lessa scurry by without argument.

  “What are you three doing here?” I asked, my relief at seeing Marc momentarily chasing away all my concerns. Was he well? Had he forgiven me? I wished I could see his face so as to better judge his frame of mind, but it was hidden by the hood of his cloak.

  “Élise saw Lessa enter your rooms and was concerned about what she intended,” my cousin said. “She sought me out.”

  Élise. I owed that girl a thousand times over. “Your arrival was timely.”

  “I believe ‘thanks’ is the word you’re grasping for,” Marc replied, his voice dry.

  He sounded normal. Sane. What stroke of good fortune was this? “You’re right,” I said, my cheeks aching with an unfamiliar grin. “Thank you. There are no words for how glad I am to see you three.”

  A wave of dizziness hit me, chased away only by the shot of pain that lanced up my arm when I caught my balance on the desk.

  “What’s wrong?” Marc asked, and all three of them came closer.

  “Cécile.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to find my equilibrium. “Something’s happened. She’s desperate. More desperate than I’ve ever felt her.” I clenched my teeth together. “She’s going to do something.”

  But what? I cursed my lack of information. My helplessness. If she was acting under this level of desperation, the outcome could be disastrous. Perhaps even fatal.

  The finality of the situation hit me, and with it came a compulsion I could not deny. “I must get back to work,” I muttered. “I must finish this.”

  The three of them exchanged meaningful looks suggesting they weren’t unaware of my predicament, then fell into step, the twins behind and Marc at my side. “Your father had all of Pénélope’s things returned to me,” he said. “And he had Vincent switched to the night shift so the twins are together again. I assume it is your doing?”

  “No,” I said. “I wanted to do something to help you, but I thought I’d only make things worse.”

  The compulsion to build, to fulfill my word to the half-bloods, was taking over my mind, making it difficult to think of anything else. Which construction sites would have blocks ready? Where should I go first? “He made the choice of his own volition.” What was Cécile planning? How much time did I have before she acted? Would it be enough?

  “Then circumstances truly are dire,” Marc said. “He does not want you dead, you realize that?”

  Did I? I wasn’t sure. “He’s killing her. I’m not sure she even realizes it.”

  “But she isn’t dead yet. Don’t be the one who causes that to change. You need to ration your strength, give her a chance to succeed.” He caught me by the shoulder, although he didn’t try to stop me. “That’s why I’m here, Tristan. The twins, too. We’re going to help you build.”

  I blinked, my thoughts mercifully clear of compulsion for a heartbeat. “Why? Why would you do this for me?” And the unasked question – how was it even possible that he could help me? What had happened to clear the madness from his mind that had resulted from my meddling?

  That was the question answered, the twins falling back a few paces to give us space. “I thought about what you said in the mines.”

  I interrupted. “I shouldn’t have…” But he held up a hand, cutting me off.

  “You were right. It would have been one thing if my heart had stopped beating when hers did, if the decision had been taken out of my hands. But to choose it?” He inhaled sharply. “She did not wish it. And now, I find I do not wish it either. There is much I would like to see done before I willingly walk toward the end. This,” he gestured out at the city lying in front of us. “Saving this is one.”

  How much better would the world be if it were men like Marc who ruled?

  “I am glad to hear it,” I said. “Only now I fear it is I who will not see our plans through to the end.”

  He nodded slowly, both incapable and unwilling to give false platitudes in the face of such a desperate situation. “It may be that the unthinkable occurs, but it has not yet. And until it does, there is hope yet that we might achieve the impossible.”

  Hope. It was not something I often allowed myself for it had caused me to suffer so many bitter disappointments. But what else did I have now? I’d had the opportunity to kill my father, and I hadn’t taken it, foolishly believing that time was on my side. That a better, more prudent plan would present itself. I’d been wrong. Now my only hope was for Cécile to succeed in this impossible task that had been set for her, and perhaps she was the best place for all our hopes to rest. I knew her: she would not hesitate if opportunity presented itself. She would be bold.

  “Victoria, Vincent,” Marc said, turning to the twins. “You will manage the sites in the north half of the city.”

  They both nodded, then Vincent gave his sister a sly smile. “You take the east and I’ll take the west. Whoever has the most work done by midnight wins.”

  Victoria grinned back, but I could see her eyes were glistening. “I accept your challenge.”

  It took a concerted effort, but I stopped in my tracks. “There will,” I said, “be extra points for the quality of work done.”

  “We will do it right, Tristan,” Vincent said, his voice strange in its solemnity. “You have our word on that.”

  “You will judge, won’t you?” A flood of tears poured down Victoria’s cheeks. “You know contests with subjective elements require a judge.”

  “I…” I wanted to tell her that I would, but the words wouldn’t come out, because I didn’t believe they were true. “I trust you.” Why did I feel as though I was saying goodbye?

  Her lip trembled and she bit it hard. Then she bowed low. “We will not disappoint you, Your Highness.”

  “You never do.” I held my ground long enough to watch them disappear into the city, then I met Marc’s gaze. “Let’s get to work.”

  We met Tips on our way to the first construction site.

  “You look sorrier than a sewer worker after a feast day, Your Highness,” he said, pulling off his hat.

  “I must look poorly indeed if you are according me a title again,” I said, laughing. The motion hurt. Everything hurt.

  “Is she…” he started to ask, but Marc made some motion to silence him. They began to speak in earnest, but I didn’t listen. I didn’t need to hear once more how precariously close I was to the end. Instead, I went to the block of stone sitting next to a growing pillar. It was ready. Bracing my feet against the street, I lifted the massive block up, watching it rise higher and higher until it reached the top of the column. Sweat broke out on my brow, because it was heavy. Had I really once had the power to hold up the mountain over my head? It seemed impossible now, a memory so distant it seemed another life.

  Block after block rose up into the air, some with my power and some wit
h Marc’s. I became dimly aware that the streets were teeming with half-bloods, as though the entire population of Trollus had decided to go out at the same time. They were grouped in bunches around the columns, the air filled with the sounds of rock being chiseled into shape.

  And the half-bloods were not alone. The familiar uniform of the Builders’ Guild stood out among the sea of grey-clad forms, each of them holding a roll of parchment and shouting orders. No, not just the Builders’ Guild – all the guilds, all of them lending their strength to do my work. Never in my life had I seen such a thing, or even ever believed that such a collaboration amongst my people would be possible.

  “Your Highness.” I jumped, my attention turning to the Marchioness who was holding a low curtsey in front of me, her crimson silk skirts pooling around her feet.

  “My lady?”

  She only smiled, rose, and started toward the next column. I watched in silence as she spoke to the uniformed builder, her head tilted as she listened to his response. Moments later, the half-bloods stepped back from a squared block of stone and it rose up into the air, guided by the woman’s vast amount of power.

  And she wasn’t the only one. Near and far, there were silk-clad ladies and dark-suited lords of Trollus’s aristocracy listening to orders from those they had always treated as lesser, lending their magic to the effort.

  “Marc, would you give me some light?” I asked, stepping out into the middle of the boulevard so I could see.

  Brilliant orbs bloomed into existence high above, filling all of Trollus with their light and allowing me to finally see. Column after column reached up toward the rocky ceiling, growing faster than I had ever hoped. It was how I’d envisioned it in my mind’s eye during those long hours I’d spent drafting and drawing. And not just the structure, but the people. How they were behaving, the expressions on their faces – this, this was what I had dreamed for my city. And it was glorious.

  “I thought it was impossible,” I whispered to no one in particular.

  Marc answered, “And yet it is happening.”

  I hoped it would never end – that against all odds, I might see this transformation of my city through. And I was a fool for it. The gut-wrenching shock of disappointment hit me like a fist to the stomach, almost doubling me over. Cécile had failed. At what, I could not say, but in her mind, there would be consequences. Terrible ones. I braced myself for what would come next.

  Nothing could have prepared me for the sound of my own name. Like a bell rung in a silent hall, Cécile’s voice echoed through my ears, Tristanthysium.

  “Not possible,” I breathed. Except that it had happened, and every muscle in my body tensed like a coiled spring as a result, anticipation of what she would ask making me blind to everything around me. I turned, staring unseeing toward the north.

  Tristanthysium, come to me.

  Yes, my fey nature whispered even as I shouted. “No!”

  “Tristan, what has happened?” Marc’s voice was tense, his words clipped. “Is it her?”

  He thought Cécile was dead, and though her heart still beat strong and true, he was not far from wrong. “Cécile has called me to her. By name.”

  “Is the curse broken?”

  “No. She has made another choice.”

  His eyes widened with realization. “Where is she?”

  “Trianon.”

  The word and all that it meant rippled out and away from us, carried on a tide of fear through my people. I started forward.

  “No. No, she can’t have done this!” Marc caught hold of my arm, trying forcibly to restrain me.

  “You know I must go,” I said, shoving down the strange urge rising up inside me to attack anything that stood between Cécile and me.

  “But the curse… You can’t.”

  “I know.” I swallowed hard. “Please go get my parents. Together, they’ll be able to…” Kill me.

  “Tristan…” He broke off. “I’ll do everything in my power to finish what we started.” He let go of my arm.

  “Thank you.” The words burned in my throat. “Goodbye, Marc.”

  I started walking toward the mouth of the River Road. Run. I stifled the urge. “Tips, walk with me.” The half-blood fell into step beside me, struggling to keep up with my pace.

  “So this is it?” His voice was dull. Toneless. “What will you do?”

  “I must go to her.”

  His crutch skidded on the paving stones, but he caught himself before falling. “But you can’t. No amount of power can break through the barrier, it’s been attempted time and time again.”

  As if I didn’t know that. “I must try.” And try, and try until my heart stopped beating. At a certain point, I knew logic, reason, and sanity would abandon me in my single-minded pursuit to obey Cécile’s command, and that I would tear all of Trollus asunder in a mad attempt to break free. Word had travelled ahead of us, as through the gloom I could see the guards at the gates mobilizing, preparing themselves for my arrival. Not that they could stop me.

  “I’ve little time,” I said. “But there is something I need to say to you before the… the end.”

  “I’m listening.”

  It was an effort to collect my thoughts, but as much as I knew the fight was over for me, I didn’t want it to be over for everyone else. “For the longest time, I thought this fight was between half-bloods and full-bloods,” I finally said. “But I was wrong. It’s a fight against a flawed ideology. A fight for a different way of life. What sort of blood is flowing through your veins shouldn’t and doesn’t determine how or what you think. If nothing else, what we saw tonight proves that much.”

  I cast a backward glance at my city, taking in the towering columns of stone I was leaving behind. “You have Marc and the twins to help, but I think it’s you who needs to unite those who want to see this tyranny overthrown.”

  “We need you,” Tips said, despair thick on his voice. “You are our leader.”

  “No.” I met his gaze, forcing my feet to stop moving for enough time to say what needed saying. “Others will rise up. They already have. This city is desperate for change, my friend, and you don’t need me to make it happen.”

  Tips hesitated for a painfully long moment, and then to my surprise, he bowed low. “It has been a privilege, Your Highness.”

  He wouldn’t give up, I could see it in the square of his shoulders. And somehow, that made it easier. “For me as well,” I said. “Goodbye, Tips.”

  The time for words was over. Turning to the gate, I swept aside the guards and their magic, then tore the steel blocking my way from its moorings, tossing it aside. I started to run, faster and faster down the slick road toward the world outside. Toward her. It was over, and I didn’t want it to be. It was over, and I was relieved by it.

  Cécile had made a choice. For herself. For me. And it could not be undone.

  The fresh breeze full of the smell of salt and life and freedom struck me in the face, the faint glow of dusk appearing ahead of me, and in that moment, I hated her.

  I loved her.

  The point of impact loomed, and I braced myself. For the pain. Please let her survive was my last thought, and then I threw myself at the barrier.

  Thirty-Three

  Cécile

  I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Chris standing at the back stairs of the opera house. The safety of my friends was a small blessing in this night of failures.

  “Sabine found you and warned you?”

  He nodded. “While I was with Fred. Who is, by the way, an even worse liar than you. She didn’t call him out on what he’d done, because she was afraid he’d warn Lord Aiden that you’d escaped. I don’t think he would, though. I think he regrets what he did. Were you able to get your book back?”

  “I searched every market, but I couldn’t find her,” I said, hating how well I felt, as though my countless sleepless nights had been washed away by blood. “So I tried to break them free another way. It didn’t work.” I swallowed a
lump in my throat, not ready to explain exactly what I had done, how I’d felt her triumph when I failed, and how a fit of madness had taken me and I’d screamed Tristan’s name until I’d collapsed in the sand like a madwoman.

  “Sabine told me what you two overheard,” Chris said. “She’s inside, although everything’s all chaos because your mother left for the Marquis’ country home, claiming she was ill.”

  “She isn’t ill, she’s angry at me,” I muttered, pressing a hand to my forehead. I hadn’t just failed to free the trolls, I’d failed to protect her, too.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Wait for the messenger to come find me,” I said. “Let him and Catherine help me catch Anushka, bring her face to face with the King, then set her free.” I waited for some passersby to move away, and then I continued, “And what will happen will happen. But at least we’ll live to fight another day.” My chest was tight. “I’m not giving up, Chris.”

  “Then there’s still hope.” He squeezed my hand. “How’s Tristan?”

  I closed my eyes and shoved away the sick euphoria I felt. “Not well.” And I was noticing it much more than I had before, which could only mean he was getting worse.

  “Cécile, thank heavens you’re all right.” Sabine came flying down the steps. “We didn’t know where you’d gone. We came back here like you asked, but…” She frowned. “Why are you all wet?”

  “Long story,” I said, grateful that the seawater had washed away the worst of the blood.

  “I’d say we need to get you inside, get you warm, but if you go in they’ll want you to perform. Genevieve didn’t show, and it’s closing night. Put anyone but you on the stage, and the audience will be demanding their money back.”

  Did I dare? It was only a matter of time before Catherine discovered Sabine and I had escaped, if she hadn’t already, and then they’d come for me. Was there a better way to spend my last few hours of liberty than on the stage?