The Broken Ones (The Malediction Trilogy 0.6)(33)

But her eyes only grew desperate, mouth opening, then teeth clicking together as she shut it, unable to come up with an explanation because she was no better at this game of deception than I was myself. She’d taken no risk in spying on her father: he’d allowed it, then sent her off with this grand revelation of his suspicions in an attempt to elicit a reaction from me. Even me canceling the meeting would be a form of proof. And I hated this. Hated that she, of all people, would be the one to pull us down.

“Marc…”

I hadn’t heard her come up behind me and couldn’t keep from flinching as she took my hand, turning me to face her. She was close, the sodden bodice of her gown brushing against me, her hand resting against my shoulder, head tilted back to reveal the slender column of her neck. Her luminous eyes were fixed on me, and though she was as bedraggled as I’d ever seen her, she was beautiful.

Beguiling.

Being with her was all I’d ever wanted – the chance to love her, and be loved by her, and the Duke had taken that dream and twisted it into something hideous. A nightmare. Anger like nothing I’d ever known flooded through my veins, and I shoved her away from me. “I can’t do this.”

She stumbled, catching herself against the desk. “Marc, I…”

“Don’t.” I crossed the room, jerking the magic out of the lamps and casting the room into shadows even as I donned my cloak, pulling up my hood. I’d let her see me. Allowed myself to believe that I was something she’d wanted to look upon, and now all it felt like was mockery. “Leave.”

Her cheeks were damp. “Why are you acting like this?”

To say trolls couldn’t lie was the ultimate deception, because it promised what we’d give was the truth. Instead we delivered duplicity hidden behind twisted words and false smiles. Tears masquerading as heralds of grief when they had as little meaning as raindrops from the sky. “Because, unlike you, I can’t act anymore. I can’t pretend this is real and that you care when I know otherwise.”

“But I do care!”

“Not about me!” The words came out as a shout, and the walls shook.

“That’s not true.”

She came toward me, reaching, but I stumbled back as though she’d tried to strike me. “Just leave, Pénélope.”

“I can’t,” she whispered. “Not like this.”

Because her life depended on what she could extract from me, which meant she’d burn whatever truth there was to our friendship to the ground if she had to. “Why?” I asked, the question coming out without thought. “Because your father will kill you if you come home empty-handed?”

Her lips parted in a barely audible gasp, and she took one step back.

“Drop the act, Pénélope,” I snarled, as angry with her now as I was with her father. “I know your father wants to put Roland on the throne. I know he’s using you to try to prove Tristan’s a sympathizer by manipulating me. I know–”

“Stop!” she shrieked, and launched herself at me, hand clamping down on my mouth. We went down in a tangled heap, her nails digging into my cheek as she repeated, “Stop, stop, don’t say it. Don’t tell me.”

I stared up at her, her panic not making sense until it did. There was only one way I could know she was a spy, only one way I could know about her father’s plans, and that was through her sister. And there was only one reason Ana?s would undermine her father: her loyalty was to Tristan and the revolution.

Pénélope’s hand fell away from my mouth, her forehead dropping to my chest. “I can’t go home. It was one thing when I only had my suspicions, but now that I have proof…”

Because accidentally or not, I’d revealed Ana?s’s true allegiance. And in doing so, undermined everything.

“I thought I was helping you,” she said. “Helping Ana?s. I believed that Trollus would be better off with any ruler other than Tristan. But it’s all an act, isn’t it? He’s a sympathizer. You all are.”

I knew I should put her off, try to recover, but I was tired of deceiving her. “Yes.”

The weight of the admission hung between us, and I held my breath, waiting.

“I told my father that you were using the human traders to bring in contraband,” she said. “That’s why he confiscated those drawings from the twins. Because of me.”

I winced. “Tristan… We arranged for you to make that discovery so that you’d have something of note to tell your father.”

Her jaw clenched and she gave an angry shake of her head. I didn’t blame her. “You gave him more than you intended. He knows they were printed on the same press as the sympathizer pamphlets.”

I gaped at her. “How?”

“The pages are marked with flaws unique to the press,” she said. “I imagine it’s only a matter of time before his agents determine which printer in Trianon you used. Who placed the order. And once they catch that individual, it won’t be long until they come for you.”

“Shit,” I muttered, my mind racing as to how I could mitigate this disaster.

“It didn’t have to be this way,” she said. “Did you really believe that I, of all people, would be against the sympathizer cause?”

I hesitated, then said, “That’s not why we didn’t tell you.”