But there was another reason why the Winter fey hadn’t descended on the Isle; only I couldn’t speak of it to anyone, because it had come from that fateful conversation where my debt had been incurred. Winter wouldn’t have forbidden me to reveal what I’d learned if the information wasn’t important, but as yet, I wasn’t sure how it factored into her game.
“Those men on the council were born to the position, they didn’t earn it,” Sabine replied, then hissed in irritation, catching at her hood as the wind threatened to take it again. “Can we go inside?”
“Soon.” I’d told Cécile I’d take one of the seeds at dawn. Which would be any minute now.
She was quiet for a few moments. “What if what the Queen wants to talk to you about is an alliance? Would you consider it?”
“Even if that’s what she’s offering,” I said, choosing not to answer her query, “it begs the question of why? What’s in it for her, and what would she want in return?”
“Might it be worth it?”
Though my ancestors had been trapped in this world millennia ago, that fact remained that we were Summer creatures, and the idea of allying with Winter felt traitorous to the core. And misguided. We were the descendants of her adversary.
To Sabine, I said, “Just because she’d help us defeat our enemy doesn’t mean we’d win in the end.” Too easily, I remembered the gleam in her verdelite eyes as we’d struck the bargain that had allowed me to keep my life. We were nothing more than pieces on their Guerre board, and I couldn’t even begin to guess how we’d be played.
It was time. Reaching into my pocket, I extracted the folded handkerchief holding the seeds.
Sabine leaned over my arm. “Stones and sky, what are those?”
“They are the product of one of Anushka’s spells.” I swiftly explained what they did as the sun crested the horizon.
“And you don’t know exactly what they will do or how long the effects will last?” She caught hold of my wrist. “Tristan, this doesn’t feel right. Please don’t take them.”
“And if something happens to Cécile? I…” Breaking off, I chewed on the insides of my cheeks, thinking of how the Regent would be alive if I hadn’t gone running her direction. If I’d kept my head. “It’s easy to stand here now and say that I wouldn’t go to her the moment she was hurt or afraid, but history has proven otherwise. It’s my weakness, and this… this is a solution.”
Sunlight fell upon her face, turning her skin golden. Her lips parted in mute appeal, then she shook her head and let go of my wrist.
I wished she’d argued with me harder.
Plucking up one of the seeds, I stared into its swirling depths. And before I could lose my nerve, I swallowed it whole.
Chapter Seventeen
Cécile
I kept my head down, doing my best not to think about how our fates were reliant on the success of a single prank even as I balanced the tray containing the means of its delivery.
“It’ll work,” Victoria had insisted. “We pulled it on Tristan once, and his mouth was stained purple for the better part of the day.”
“Would’ve been longer, but he insisted on washing his own mouth out with soap.” Vincent had smiled. “So vain. Would’ve been better if it had been Anaïs, though.”
“I’m not sure you would’ve survived if it had,” Marc had said. Then he’d sighed. “But it did work. And using the ploy eliminates much of the risk, so best we find ourselves some sugar.”
And so I found myself approaching the rear door of the tavern, not with a weapon, but with two desserts.
“What’s this?” One of the guards stepped into my path.
“Confections for His Highness,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t notice the trembling of the tray. “We heard he was partial to sweets.”
The guard leaned closer, and it was a struggle not to recoil from the sourness of his breath. “How do we know it’s not poison?”
I wanted to retort that it wouldn’t matter if it was, but instead I handed him the decoy. “Spun sugar and cherry cordial.”
He held it up to the light, then bit off a piece of the sugar lattice work, the candy crunching beneath his teeth.
“Avenge me if I drop dead,” he declared to his fellows, then bit into the globe. Cherry cordial poured out of his mouth and down his chin. “S’good,” he said, wiping his lips with the back of his grimy hand, then licking the cordial off. “I’ll take another.”
I stepped back. “I’ve heard His Highness handles disappointment poorly. And already it’s a shame there isn’t one for his female companion.”
Their eyes took on a lascivious gleam and I had my confirmation that Lessa was present. “You’ll bring them to His Highness yourself,” I said, filling my words with power. “And you’ll be sure to tell him how much you enjoyed the one you ate.” It was malicious and cruel of me, because I knew how Roland would react to a human taking his sweets. But I found I didn’t care. They were traitors to their kind.
“I will.” He took the tray, and the globe trembled on its candy legs. “Careful, now,” I murmured, watching his arms steady under my command. When he’d disappeared inside, I nodded once at his companions. “You never saw me.”
Their eyes glazed, and I scuttled around the corner before they could take notice of me again. Then I got in line.
With weapons and threats, the guards herded us in single file toward the tavern, the guard at the door allowing one person in for every one who left. All their attention was for those who had yet to swear, and those who had just done so seemed confused by their newfound liberty as they exited the building.
“Where do I go?” one of them asked. “What do I do?”
“Don’t rightly care,” the guard responded, cracking a staff across the man’s shoulders. “Move.”
The man stumbled away, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Where do I go? Where do I go?” He looked right at me, and I averted my eyes, but not before I noticed that his clothing was singed, his hands red with burns.
“Next!”
There was no one left in front of me. I stepped inside.
My eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimness, sunspots dancing across my vision as I moved forward, bumping into the woman in front of me.
A platform had been constructed where I expected the bar had once stood, and, on it, Roland perched atop a large overstuffed chair, his feet swinging back and forth just above the floor. There was a man on his knees in front of the platform, and Lessa stood next to him, mostly hidden by the crowd. “Repeat exactly what I say,” she ordered. “I, your name, swear fealty to Prince Roland de Montigny, and promise to obey his summons and commands for as long as I live.”
“I, your name,” the man whispered, and Lessa kicked him in the ribs.
“Say your name, you idiot.”
Weeping, the man complied, and when he’d finished, Roland reached over to pat him on the head like a dog.
The next person was shoved forward, but before Lessa could speak, the guard I’d compelled approached. Bowing, he set the tray on the table next to the young troll. Roland seemed so innocent from afar, cheeks curving with delight at the sight of Victoria’s sugar creation. He plucked the dessert from the tray and snapped off piece of the lattice, popping it in his mouth.
Crunch, crunch, crunch. I imagined the sound of his perfect white teeth chewing the sugar, and I tensed, drawing magic up from the earth even though I wouldn’t use it – all the power I needed was in that little crimson globe clutched in Roland’s pale fingers.
He snapped off another piece of lattice. Crunch, crunch, crunch.
My breath was coming in short little gasps, my heart pounding so loud I was surprised those around me couldn’t hear it.
Was I close enough?
Would it work?
Roland lifted the globe to his lips, licking the smooth sugary surface.
Then the guard spoke and Roland froze, all semblance of innocence falling away as the monster peered out, eyes
flicking to the man who had stolen one of his treats. I clenched my teeth together, my skin burning hot and cold as I desperately wished I could undo what I’d said. That I could take it back.
Snap. The man’s head twisted in a full circle, and for a moment, he stood as he was. If not for the peculiar cant of his neck and the blankness in his eyes, it would have seemed as nothing had happened, for no one had moved. Then Roland smiled and blew a whimsical puff of air his direction, and the guard collapsed.
Someone screamed, but other than a collective flinch, no one in the room stirred. They were too stunned, too afraid, to move.
You killed him. I stared at the guard’s body knowing that I’d set him up to die, but unable to comprehend that it had actually happened. Murderer.
I dragged my eyes from the corpse in time to see Lessa shake her head, expression sour. She said something to Roland that looked like an admonition, but he ignored her, his attention back on the sweet in his hand. I took a deep breath, trying to regain my focus. There would be just one chance, and I couldn’t miss it.
My pulse roaring in my ears, I watched Roland lick the sugared globe once. Twice. Then he opened his mouth wide…
Something flashed past in my peripheral vision. Roland started, candy slipping from his hand to smash against the ground at his feet.
“No,” I breathed. “No, no.” Embedded in magic not more than a foot in front the boy’s face was an arrow, the fletching still shuddering from the impact.
“Who did that?” he screamed, and I silently asked the same question as I watched our plan fall apart before my eyes.
He lunged, but Lessa reached up from where she was kneeling on the ground and jerked him back. As I struggled to hold my ground against a crowd that had reached its breaking point, she held up gloved fingers smeared with crimson from the broken candy globe, one word on her lips. One name.
Mine.
I fell in with the crowd, trying to keep my feet as men and women jostled against each other, fighting to get through the narrow doors, glass shattering as some turned to the windows for escape. People were going down, others clambering over their backs, heedless of the screams. I was caught up in the flow, the press of bodies so tight I couldn’t breathe. I lifted my arms, trying and failing to protect my head from elbows and fists.
Then I was through.
I fell once, agony lancing through the back of my legs as they were stomped on, but I caught hold of the cloak of a man ahead and clambered up.
“Cécile!”
Roland’s voice filled the air, drowning out the cries of the terrified and injured.
Then the tavern exploded. The force of it must have thrown me forward, because the next thing I knew, I was face down in the slush and mud, my ears ringing. All around were people in the same position: some dazed, some clutching at wounds the explosion had inflicted, some not moving at all.
The air contracted with a massive flux of magic, and I closed my eyes, waiting for whatever was to come. Again and again the air pulsed with enormous concussions, but the blow I expected never landed. Turning my head slowly, I looked behind me.
Roland was writhing in the rubble that had been the tavern, one arm pressed against his face. Lessa and the other two crouched a few paces away from him, backs to me.
“Stop it, stop it,” Roland screeched, his voice tiny and distant against my rattled eardrums. “I’ll kill you. I’ll end you. I’ll rend your heart!” His free hand was flailing above him, each gesture accompanied by an enormous outpouring of magic. But the motions were random and strange, seemingly directed at nothing.
No, not nothing. The sun.
Lessa rose on unsteady legs and lifted her arms to the sky. Clouds of black magic furled out from her palms, rising and spreading until the sun was obscured, a dark shadow cast across half the town. “Roland, stop!”
The concussions ceased, the only sound the weeping of the injured and the ringing in my ears.
I didn’t know what to do. The last thing I wanted was draw their attention, but lying on the ground waiting didn’t seem much better. Stones and sky, where were Marc and the twins? Why weren’t they doing anything?
A whistle pierced the air, and the trolls turned in the direction of the sound. Taking advantage of the distraction, I pushed up onto my elbows. A man sat on a black horse in the center of the road leading out of the village. He was too far away for me to recognize his face, but I didn’t miss the bow slung across his shoulder. He’d been the one to take the shot at Roland. The one who’d ruined our plans.
“All hail Prince Tristan,” the man shouted. “True heir to Trollus and the Isle of Light.”
My shoulders twitched with shock, and not because of his words. I recognized his voice.
Chapter Eighteen
Cécile
“Damn you, Chris,” I whispered. “What are you thinking?”
Roland rose to his feet. “I. Will. Be. King!” The ground shuddered, and he slashed his hand sideways, the air shimmering with a lethal blade of magic.
“No,” I gasped, but Chris was already moving, his black horse galloping flat out toward the nearby woods. Clenching my fists, I watched, waiting for the magic to catch up, to slice through both horse and rider. But it fell short.
A string of oaths poured from Roland’s lips, but before he could go after him, Lessa closed her hands over his shoulders. “It’s a trap.” Her eyes panned the surroundings. “Cécile is here, which means Tristan likely is too. They’re trying to draw you out.”
“Tristan?” The anger fell away from Roland’s face, and he rose up on his tiptoes as though the extra few inches would give him the vantage he needed.
“Don’t be a fool,” she snarled. “He just tried to have you killed, can’t you see that?”
Roland’s face fell, but his half-sister ignored him. “Go after the rider,” she ordered the other two trolls. “Bring him back alive – he might have information about their plans.”
Both inclined their head, then they were running. I bit my lip as I watched them disappear down the road. I’d known trolls were fast – had seen the way they moved. But Trollus had kept them contained in more ways than one, so I’d never seen one in an all-out sprint. Chris’s horse wouldn’t outpace them for long.
A hand closed around my arm, and I would’ve yelped, but another covered my mouth. “Shh,” Marc murmured in my ear. “We need to move while they’re distracted.”
Surrounded by illusion, Marc led me through the still forms scattered across the square, not speaking until we were tucked behind another building where the twins were waiting.
“They know I’m here,” I said.
“Oh, was that why Roland was shouting your name?” Vincent crossed his arms. “You weren’t supposed to let them see you.”
Plucking a piece of debris from my ebony locks, I frowned at him. “I didn’t. Lessa’s seen me work that spell before – she put two and two together.” I swiftly explained what happened. “I don’t know what we should do now. We aren’t going to get a second chance.”
“Which is why we’re going after Lessa’s lackeys,” Marc replied. “It may be that they know where Angoulême is hiding, and ultimately, it’s the Duke who Tristan wants us to catch. If your friend Chris survives his little stunt, I’ll have to thank him.”
“For what?” I snapped. “Ruining our plan?”
“Did he? Or did you with that stunt with the guard?” Marc didn’t wait to see his jab land, his cloaked form going to the corner of the building. “They’re starting to search the town. We need to be gone.”
I didn’t argue. If I hadn’t taken that extra step – a step that had been both unnecessary and cruel – Roland would’ve bitten into the candy, spilled the blood, and I would have performed the spell just in time for Chris’s arrow to find its way into his skull. All those corpses in the town square? Their deaths were as much my fault as his. More. I felt sick with guilt and grief. They’d been innocent.
And I knew they wouldn�
��t be the last.
* * *
Slipping out of the village was no trouble. For one, people, oath-sworn or not, were fleeing in all directions. Two, while Lessa had set her human soldiers to patrolling the town in search of a girl of my description, they were woefully unprepared for dealing with my friends. As was Lessa herself.
“How anyone can believe she’s Anaïs is beyond me,” Victoria muttered for the tenth time. “She doesn’t know a thing about setting up a perimeter or organizing troops or…” The list went on, but I stopped listening, because it didn’t matter if Lessa had a talent for any of these things. All she needed to do was keep Roland in check and corral as many humans into swearing fealty to him as she possibly could, and so far she seemed to be succeeding.
With Vincent carrying me for the sake of speed, we’d reached the tree line some time ago, following the tracks Chris’s horse had left in the snow, as well as the boot prints of the trolls in pursuit.
“Be quiet, Victoria,” Marc said from his position in the lead. “If they were going to catch him, they’d have done it by now and will be coming back this way. I’d rather not give them advance warning of our presence.” Then he stopped.
“Put me down,” I said to Vincent, and once my feet were firmly on the path I made my way over to where Marc stood at a fork.
“Two sets of tracks,” he said. “The trolls split up to follow both trails.”
“I see that.” I pointed to the right. “Chris went that way. His horse is shod, the other isn’t.” I took in the churned up snow and horse dung. “The second rider was waiting here for him. They knew there would be more than one and they wanted to split the trolls up.” I kicked a clump of snow. “Chris never intended to kill Roland with that shot – he knew they’d be shielded. He wanted the trolls to follow him.”
I started down the path Chris had taken, but not before casting a backward glance at my friends. “Keep your wits about you.”
Warrior Witch: Malediction Trilogy Book Three Page 9
