Stolen Songbird

by Danielle Jensen

  “Doesn’t the magic that holds the rocks up keep them out?” I asked.

  “The tree?” Élise glanced at me sharply. “No. It doesn’t.”

  “Why is it called a tree?”

  “A legacy from what it used to look like,” she gestured upwards. “Single trunk with branches spreading out.”

  “Oh.” I frowned at the black cavernous space looming above our heads. “What does it look like now?”

  “Not like a tree. It is a far more complicated structure in its current form.”

  “Where does the magic come from?”

  “You mean who,” she replied, and I blinked. “Magic comes from within,” she explained. “So what you should have asked is who the magic comes from.”

  I opened my mouth to ask just that question when Élise interrupted me. “This is Artisan’s Row,” she said. “Perhaps you would like to go in to view some of their work?” She gestured towards the entrance to one of the shops.

  I nodded, although her tone implied it was more of an order than a question. I didn’t want to waste my time inside any of the stores –I wanted to go to the base of the valley. There had to be a way for the river to flow out of the city and to the ocean, and if there was a way for water to escape, perhaps there was a way for me to get out as well. But Élise seemed intent on my seeing the contents of the shop, and it was probably better if she believed that I was aimlessly following her through the city with no purpose of my own.

  A bell chimed as I pushed open the door and stepped into the well-lit shop. The proprietor curtseyed deeply, but I focused on the woman who did not. Brown eyes regarded me with curiosity.

  “You aren’t a troll!” I blurted out.

  “Neither,” the woman replied, “are you.”

  The proprietor of the store grimaced but interestingly, didn’t ignore me. “My lady, this is Esmeralda Montoya. She is a trader of fine goods.”

  One of the woman’s eyebrows arched upwards. “My lady? I must say, I’ve heard the trolls call us humans any number of things, but generally speaking, none of them are so polite. You must be the girl they bonded to His Royal Highness.”

  I gave a faint nod.

  “By choice?”

  “No.”

  Esmeralda shook her head, her brow furrowing. Although she was dressed in men’s clothing, the fabrics looked expensive and she wore no small amount of jewelry. Her business with the trolls was clearly a lucrative one. “And now you are caught in the midst of the rival politics of a place you probably didn’t even know existed,” she said.

  “I was supposed to break the curse,” I said. “Otherwise, I know nothing of the politics involved.”

  “When it comes to the curse, there are no politics, no sides,” she said. “It is the one thing that unites all trolls – their desire to be free of this place.”

  I frowned, remembering Tristan’s reaction to our failure to break the curse, and how it had been decidedly contrary to the sentiment of the crowd. “If they are united,” I said, “then I fail to see how I can be caught in the middle.”

  Esmeralda opened her mouth to speak, but the proprietor interrupted. “You overstep yourself, Montoya. One would have thought you’d have learned to keep your mouth shut by now.”

  “So report me to the trade magister,” Esmeralda replied, not looking overly concerned about the prospect. “Though of what you’d accuse me is a mystery to me.”

  “Meddling.” The troll planted her hands on her hips.

  “I hadn’t realized that was a crime.” One corner of Esmeralda’s mouth quirked up. “Why don’t you do me a favor, Reagan, and leave us to our conversation.”

  “A favor?” The troll’s face perked up. “In exchange for what?”

  “Ill-nurtured harpy!” Esmeralda swore. “The pox on you lot and your favors. What do you want?”

  Reagan grinned. “The pox is of little concern to me, Montoya.” She rubbed her hands together. “A promise that you will grant me a moderate-sized favor of my choosing.”

  “A small favor.”

  The troll shook her head. “She is the wife of the heir to the throne. This is no small thing.” A dark smile touched her lips. “His Majesty has hanged you humans for less.”

  I gasped, but Esmeralda didn’t blink. “A quick enough death, in the scheme of things.”

  “For you, perhaps,” Reagan said, rubbing her hands together. “You are a fragile creature, human.” Her gaze flickered past me to Élise. “Tell me, girl, how long did it take for the last half-breed to die? How long did he hang from the noose, his better half clinging to life while his human half dragged him towards death?”

  The silence grew and I shuddered.

  “Six days,” Reagan said, answering her own question. “And I rather think one of his fellow sympathizers put him out of his misery.” She chuckled. “In fact, I think I’ve reconsidered. It will take a large favor for me to excuse myself from this conversation.”

  Esmeralda’s voice was grim. “And buy your silence that a conversation took place at all.”

  The troll considered the arrangement and nodded. “Done.”

  A prickle of power ran across my skin and, without another word, she hobbled awkwardly towards the back room, bright yellow skirts brushing against the cane she used.

  “You should have negotiated specifics,” Élise said tonelessly. “Leaving it open-ended was a large concession.”

  The whole exchange was disturbing and bizarre to me, which must have been apparent to the others by the expression on my face. “Trolls value favors even more than they value gold,” Esmeralda explained. “When they make a promise to do something, they must fulfill it, no matter what the cost to them, which is why they almost never promise anything for nothing.”

  “You cannot break a promise to a troll, Aunty,” Élise warned. “She will extract her pound of flesh when you least expect it, mark my words.”

  I blinked. “You’re related?” And what could be so important to tell me that was worth the bargain that had just taken place?

  “Aye,” Esmeralda admitted. “My fool of a sister fell in love with one of them. Only good thing to come of it was the girls.”

  “She married a troll willingly?” I could not keep the astonishment from my voice. She’d told me trolls couldn’t marry humans, but how else…

  “Not married,” she replied. “It is forbidden for a troll to bond a human. What goes on behind closed doors, though, that is more difficult for them to monitor.” She winked, and I looked away, uncomfortable.

  “If it is forbidden, then why did Tristan bond me?”

  “As I said, they will stop at nothing to break the curse.”

  “I would marry you to a sheep if it would set us free” the King’s words echoed in my mind. “They don’t have much regard for humans, do they?”

  “Much?” demanded Esmeralda. “Try none. They see us as little more than animals; see the children of troll-human unions as abominations that deserve nothing more than abject slavery. They hate humans. They tolerate us only because they need our trade to survive.”

  “Not all trolls think that,” Élise said softly.

  “The ones who matter do. The aristocracy.” Esmeralda spat on the floor. “Twisted creatures, as no doubt you’ve seen. They won’t even lower themselves to bonding a troll commoner. Instead, they insist on picking and choosing amongst each other and the result is a palace full of inbred monsters. Deformed, sickly, insane – but powerful.”

  I thought of Marc’s twisted face, constantly shrouded in darkness, and a shudder ran through me.

  “Aunty, you’re scaring her,” Élise said.

  “Good – she should be terrified. This is her reality now, and she needs to understand the politics if she is to be of any help.”

  “Aunt Esmeralda!”

  The tension between the two was palpable. I was no fool – it had become clear that Élise had brought me here to speak to her aunt, but it seemed the conversation had gone beyond what s
he had intended.

  “Help with what?” I demanded.

  “You’re supposed to keep her out of things, not involve her more!” Élise hissed angrily.

  “Quit talking about me as though I’m not even here,” I snapped. “You’ve clearly brought me here to tell me something, so get on with it.”

  Esmeralda and Élise glared at each other, but eventually the younger woman conceded. “Do as you want. You always do.”

  Her aunt nodded and leaned closer to me, her voice barely above a whisper. “There is a small faction within Trollus pushing for better treatment of those with mixed blood – equality, even. As it stands, any child less than pure blood is born into servitude. They are owned by the noble or the guild who owns the mother – or in the rare instance one of the parents is a full-blooded troll, they are auctioned to the highest bidder when they turn fifteen, and the money goes to the crown. They are traded like animals until they have grown too old to be useful and then they are left in the labyrinth as fodder for the sluag.”

  I shivered, the memory of my own flight from the sluag fresh in my mind. I had always had the hope of getting out – I could not even fathom what it would feel like to know that no matter how fast you ran or how well you might hide, escape was futile. For trolls, there was no way out.

  “Some don’t even last that long,” Esmeralda said softly. “I’ve heard of girls as young as fifteen sent to their deaths for spilling soup on their lady’s skirts.” She pointed a finger at me. “The Montoya family is wealthy and powerful. I will not stand by and watch while my sister’s daughters are relegated to the servant class, or worse, food for an overgrown slug, because of antiquated perceptions.”

  “I can understand that,” I said, crossing my arms against the chill. “But I don’t understand what you expect me to do about it. I have no power here.”

  “The very fact that the trolls have allowed one of their own to bond a human – and a Montigny prince at that – is coup enough in itself. Not for five centuries has a human held any position of power with them. And you, you will be queen one day – your half-blood children will be the heirs to the throne.” Her eyes glittered with excitement.

  I had precisely zero intention of letting matters get that far, but Esmeralda was the first person I’d met in Trollus willing to give me straight answers, so I was more than willing to hear her out.

  “I don’t see how you have any hope of changing things,” I said, hoping my dismissal of her plans might force her to reveal more. “What can a handful of mixed bloods and a few humans do against that kind of magic?”

  “Not just a handful,” she replied. “There are more sympathizers to the cause than you can imagine.”

  “But do any of them have any power?”

  Esmeralda opened her mouth to speak but then snapped it shut again.

  “Just as I thought,” I said, my frustration growing. “I am sympathetic to your troubles, but I have just been bonded to one of those you want to overthrow. I’d be a fool to conspire against him.” I bit my lip after the words came out, realizing that I was perhaps being too hasty. If this force of sympathizers was actually a force to be reckoned with, there was a chance they might be willing to help me. Maybe they would be able to send word to my family. I chewed the inside of my cheeks, considering the risks. If I got caught, the King would have me watched more closely and I would lose any chance of escape. And who knew what sort of punishment I would receive for conspiring with those who plotted against him. Or what he would do to them, if he discovered they were trying to help me. As much as I might pretend otherwise, what Esmeralda had told me about the half-bloods’ situation in Trollus had roused a great deal of indignation in me. I hated the King and so did they: it seemed a good enough reason for me to ally myself with their side.

  “I am under a great deal of scrutiny right now,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “But I will consider what you have told me. And if there is a way I can help…”

  The bell on the door jingled and we all jumped. Albert leaned inside. When he saw Esmeralda, his expression darkened. “What are you doing here?”

  “Negotiating with Reagan,” Esmeralda said.

  “Where is she, then?”

  “I’m here.” The troll appeared from the back, limping slowly across the room.

  “I need you to come outside, my lady,” he said. “You aren’t supposed to consort with humans.”

  Reluctantly, I followed him out of the shop, Élise trailing at my heels. The city streets were as they had been before, filled with trolls going about their business, but I began to see them with a whole new set of eyes. Those dressed in grey were marked with the small differences I’d first seen in Zoé and Élise: lighter hair; flushed skin; and, most importantly, human eyes. Where only a half hour past I had felt invisible, now I caught furtive glances from the downcast faces of those cleaning the streets and from those carrying parcels behind the brightly clad ladies. A great and entirely unwanted burden descended on my shoulders. They were expecting me to help them.

  “My lady?” Albert had stopped eating and was watching me with the first bit of interest he’d shown all day. I realized I was standing in the middle of the intersection, forcing traffic to go around me.

  “One moment,” I whispered. Closing my eyes, I turned slowly like a compass searching for north. When I opened them, I was staring across the river valley. A tall figure dressed in black stood staring back across at me, hand resting on his sword hilt. There was nothing that greatly distinguished him from all the rest, but I knew instinctively it was Tristan.

  “Élise?” My voice sounded hoarse.

  “Yes, my lady?”

  “Who… owns you?”

  A long pause. “His Highness does.” Her fingers plucked at the black and white sash at her waist, and for the first time, I noticed the letters embroidered on it: TdM. She was monogrammed just like Tristan’s shirts. A possession.

  “And Zoé too?” I asked.

  “Yes. The Montigny family owns three hundred and twenty-one individuals, at present.”

  “At present,” I repeated. A steady pounding grew in my ears, and my fingers twitched with the urge to lash out, at anything or anyone. “Does that figure include me?”

  Élise’s hand flew to her chest. “No,” she stammered. “Of course not!”

  “Spare me the lies!” I hissed, my grip tightening around the stem of my wineglass. Whirling around, I opened my mouth to scream my hatred across the valley. Tristan was gone. My head jerked back and forth spasmodically as I searched the opposite shore for his tall form, but he had blended into the crowd.

  Laughter caught my attention, and I spun around to see crumbs falling from Albert and Guillaume’s frosting smeared lips as they chortled at me. “Where is he? Where is he?” they pantomimed me, spinning in circles.

  No one on the street ignored us now. Every which way I looked, trolls were exchanging amused smirks with each other.

  Élise reached for me. “You’re making a fool of yourself!”

  Something inside me snapped.

  I threw my wineglass against the paving stones. It smashed, and the magic sent bits of glass flying up into the air. Élise jumped back and collided hard with the two guards. Despite knowing there was no chance of escape, I bolted.

  No one stopped me.

  I wove through the alleyways and streets, making my way steadily down the hill towards the river. I concentrated on the sound of the water – the river had to flow out somewhere. I was a strong swimmer. If I could just make it to the water, there was a chance of escape.

  I kicked off my shoes and ran barefoot down a back lane, swung right, and cursed as I came up against a stone wall. Wheeling around, I backtracked the way I’d come. A dark shadow stood at the entrance to the street, ball of troll-light hanging ominously behind him. His chuckle reached my ears, seeming to bounce off the walls, assaulting me from all directions. I ran back to the wall and jumped, my fingers just catching the edge. Legs tangl
ing in my skirts, I heaved an ankle over the edge and slipped over the other side.

  “Run, run, run, little girl.” Laughter chased my footsteps as I staggered forward.

  “Do you really think you can get away?” The question came from above. I looked up and saw Guillaume sitting on the edge of a roof, leaning back on his hands with ankles crossed. A shudder ran through me. They were toying with me, like a pair of cats with a mouse.

  But I was no mouse.

  Kicking in the backdoor of a house, I felt my way through the dark until I found the front entrance, which I flung open but didn’t exit. Instead, I concealed myself behind a curtain near the opening. Boots thudded against the paving stones near the door.

  “You see which way she went?”

  “Through the house,” came the muffled reply. “She didn’t come out.”

  I held my breath as steps came closer, into the house, and past the curtain where I was hidden.

  “Must be hiding. Check upstairs.”

  I waited a few moments more and then slunk out from behind the curtain. A gleam of light came from the other room. Stepping softly, I crept towards the front door. Through the doorway, I had seen the bridge stretching over the river only a few yards away. I could make it if I was quick.

  Feet slapping against the cold ground, I darted across the street, ran up the curved arch of the bridge and clambered up on the railing. Water surged beneath me, icy spray rising up from where the river smashed against the buttresses. I took a deep breath. I could do this.

  “Cécile, no!”

  As I leapt into the air, I saw Élise standing on a footpath near the river’s edge. Then I was falling, and the realization that I had made a grave error filled me with terror as the water approached. A scream tore from my throat, but cut off abruptly as something lashed around my waist and hurled me upwards. I landed on my back in the center of the bridge to the sound of a splash from below.

  Using the bridge railing for support, I hauled myself upwards in time to see a grey-clad figure being swept downstream.

  “There she is!” My guards had apparently realized I was no longer in the house.