The Broken Ones (The Malediction Trilogy 0.6)(22)

“It’s not for sale.” I snatched it out of his hand, then bent my knees in the most cursory of curtsies. “Good day to you, Your Highness.”

“Pénélope, wait.” Marc’s voice followed me out into the hallway, but I was too enraged to stop, my heels making loud thumps against the floor as I headed toward the stairs.

“Wait!” Marc’s hand closed on my arm, tugging me off into a side chamber. “I’m sorry for that. He’s at his worst around them.”

“Why?” I demanded. “Even if he does think they are lesser, that’s no reason to be cruel. And why do you put up with it?”

Marc shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I don’t have much choice.”

My magic writhed around me, burning hot with anger that he was in this position. That he was forced to turn a blind eye to behavior so at odds from his own. But it didn’t need to be that way. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Pénélope, please.” There was a hint of desperation in his voice. “If it matters to you, I can get the sketch to Chris. He’s here with his father often, and it’s… it’s not hard for me to get contraband in and out of Trollus.”

I heard his teeth click as though he realized that he’d said too much, and my heart skittered.

“Small things,” he added. “Sweets. Music. Novels. Things that violate the guild monopolies, but that are beneath the King’s notice. Like sketches.”

Or secret messages. And bribes.

“No,” I said, ignoring the guilt that flashed through me. “I’ll not have you risking your position by breaking the rules for me. But I do need to go.” Before he could say another word, I rushed out into the hall, skirts held up with one hand as I trotted with unladylike speed down the stairs and out into the city. I kept the same pace once I was in the market, searching the crowds of dark-haired trolls for a hint of yellow.

There.

I spotted him standing next to a mule, frowning as he stroked its neck. His father was deep in discussions with two merchantmen, which was just as well. The human jumped as I appeared next to him, causing the animal to snort in alarm until he calmed it with a practiced hand.

“I’m sorry for that,” I said. “He’s an ass sometimes. Most of the time, in fact.”

The boy – Christophe, I reminded myself – snorted out a burst of shocked laughter before clamping his mouth shut and looking around to see if he’d attracted any attention. “At least I get to leave,” he said. “You’re stuck here with him.”

“A valid point. Perhaps you might take pity and do me a kindness.” Holding up the sketch, I continued, “Would you like this?”

His tongue ran nervously over his lips. “I can’t afford to pay a fair price.”

“There is more than one way to pay,” I said. “What I’m looking for is information.”

As if sensing the tension of the situation, the mule snorted and tossed its head, and I glanced in his father’s direction to ensure we hadn’t caught his attention.

“What sort of information?”

“What are you retrieving from Trianon for Lord Marc?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know. They come in boxes, but my father would have my hide if I ever opened them.”

Boxes? What could possibly be in them? “But you go with him to retrieve these boxes?”

“Aye, my lady.” His answer came quick, his desire to provide sufficient information to retrieve his prize obvious.

“Can you tell me from whom you retrieve them?”

“A man with a cart meets us outside of Trianon.”

Such secrecy.

I hadn’t the slightest notion what they were retrieving, but it had to be something illicit to merit the secrecy. Which meant it would be something my father would find interesting.

“Thank you,” I said, telling myself I wasn’t doing anything wrong as I tucked the sketch into his coat. That this was all in Marc’s best interest, even if it didn’t feel that way. “Consider this bought and paid for.” Then I gave him my most winning smile, and turned and walked away.





Chapter Nine





Marc





“Why do you insist on making my life more difficult than it already is?” I demanded, slamming the door to my office shut. “She’s furious at us both now.”

Tristan had his boots up on my desk, lists of market prices held in one hand. “I do make your life more difficult,” he agreed, cloaking the room with magic. “But in this case, I’m making it easier.”

“How is that?” My voice was acidic, and I flung myself down on a chair, the wood creaking. “I’m supposed to be spending time with her, but she ran out like she wants nothing to do with me.”

Tristan rolled his eyes. “That’s not why she ran off.”

“Really?”

“Stones and sky, but you are as blind as a bat when it comes to her.” Tossing the lists on my desk, he leaned forward. “Whether she realized it or not, her arrival was timed to coincide with you meeting with the traders. And whether you realize it or not, she’s more than capable of listening to a conversation while seeming to be embroiled in her work. She does it frequently.”