The Broken Ones (The Malediction Trilogy 0.6)(36)

We sat in silence, him sipping his tea and me kneading my skirts until we heard the rapid patter of Roland’s boots on the stairs. Sweat trickled down my spine and my stomach tumbled beneath my ribs, every instinct telling me to call out for my sister.

Play the game.

Coming home at all had been a dangerous choice, although to call it such was a misnomer, because there was nowhere I could go where he couldn’t find me. Though I’d not planned to do so, last night I’d discovered the proof my father had wanted – there was now enough information floating in my head to bring down Marc, Tristan, and the sympathizer cause itself.

But I had no intention of letting that happen.

Human I was not, so lying was impossible, and my father would tolerate no vague words that hid the truth. The only chance I had was to lead him down a path of my choosing and hope it would distract him enough not to ask questions that I couldn’t answer.

Picking up his ever-present cane, my father leaned back in his chair and rested the slender column across his knees. “And what, pray tell, did you gain from this tremendous sacrifice of yours?”

I hesitated, then said, “I doubt what I gained from it you’d consider of any value.”

He snorted, the sound full of derision, but before he could say anything, I blurted out, “Will you help me, Father? I’m afraid I’m going to lose him.”

That surprised him. One of his eyebrows rose. “Help you how?”

You can do this, Pénélope.

“Tristan sees no future in a relationship between me and Marc,” I said, allowing the hurt I’d felt when Marc had told me this was the case to shine through and give validity to my ploy.

“Why would he? You’re afflicted – hardly a suitable match for his right hand, no matter what he looks like.”

“I know,” I whispered, hating to the very depth of my core that I had to use my vulnerabilities as a weapon. “But it’s what we both want.”

“And you believe His Highness is standing in your way?”

“I think he’ll try to put an end to our relationship when he discovers how serious it’s become.” Which was true – Tristan might well have approved of Marc pretending to court me to keep me safe, but he hadn’t approved of our affair becoming reality.

“Likely,” my father responded. “And he isn’t the only one.”

“I know,” I said. “But you could make it happen.”

He rubbed his chin, then asked, “Is he in love with you?”

“He is.” And that it was so was a beautiful thing to me, and I hated turning it to this purpose, but there was no choice. “He’s told me so. But what difference does that make? If Tristan tells him to end it…” I allowed a sob to steal away the rest of the sentence.

He steepled his fingers, eyeing me. “It’s in your best interest to convince the boy to keep this development in your relationship a secret. If it ends, so does your usefulness in this endeavor.”

I clenched my skirts, the fabric straining under my grip. Now had arrived the moment that I’d most been dreading. But the crux of our plan was making him believe that I had something to gain from Tristan’s downfall. And something to gain from my father’s success. Taking a deep breath, I said, “I don’t want it to be a secret, Father. I know bonding him isn’t possible, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be his wife.”

I held my breath, waiting to see if he’d take my bait.

“That’s precisely what it means under Thibault’s rule. And under Tristan’s,” he said.

Lifting my face, I met his gaze. “I know. But if I help you rid Trollus of them, Marc will be pulled down in the process. I can’t win.”

“You’ll be alive,” he pointed out.

“That’s not enough,” I said; then, before he could lash out, I added, “But, if you give me your word that if you succeed in bringing down Tristan and putting Roland on the throne, that you’ll let me leave this house to be with Marc – that you won’t stand in the way of us being together – I’ll…” I gave him the grimmest nod I could manage.

He stared at me unblinking, like a snake poised to strike. Then he laughed, the tone harsh and mocking, and I took an involuntary step back, certain he’d seen through my manipulation.

“Oh, dear, sweet little Pénélope, you have my word.” I felt the flux of magic with his promise, but the tears of mirth running down his face made me feel as though I’d won no victory.

“If you help my plans succeed, I promise that I not only won’t stand in the way of your union, I’ll throw you a party fit for a queen.”

My skin crawled, but there was no turning back now. “Good. Perhaps we will both get what we want.” Not waiting for him to respond, I rose to my feet and hurried from the room, his laughter trailing in my wake.





Chapter Fifteen





Marc





I have to get her out of that house. The same thought had circulated my head a hundred times since I’d sent Pénélope on her way with a dangerous plan that might work for a few days, even a few weeks, but not for the three years Tristan envisioned it would take for him to seize the throne.