Warrior Witch (The Malediction Trilogy #3)(15)

“What is this supposed to do?” I asked.

“Put him into a deep sleep.” She licked her lips once. Then again.

“We tried that with a tonic,” I said, more for Marie’s benefit than Cécile’s. Better her expectations be low.

“But this is magic,” Cécile said, and then she poured the potion into the lord’s mouth. “Sleep,” she repeated, and all the candles in the room flared bright, then guttered out.

Three balls of troll-light filled the room, none of them mine.

“Is he… dead?” Marie looked like she was about to be sick.

“He’s asleep.” I tilted my head, listening to the slow but steady beat of the other man’s heart. “How long will it last?”

Cécile sighed. “We’ll have to give him more of the potion in a few days. And figure out a way to keep him fed. All this will be for nothing if he starves to death.” Climbing to her feet, she surveyed the room, eyes widening at the bloodstains covering the floor. “What has happened?”

Letting Aiden’s head drop to the floor with a thud, I got to my feet as well. “Compulsion drove him to kill his father.”

She covered her mouth with one hand, and I felt the stab of empathetic grief as she turned to Marie. “My lady, I am so sorry.”

“As you should be.” Marie extracted a handkerchief and wiped the mess from her son’s face. “It’s your fault.”

The retort that formed in my mind died on my lips as Cécile gave a slight shake of her head. She could defend herself, but had chosen not to.

“You’ve a place to keep him?” I didn’t wait for Marie’s nod, before continuing, “Take him there now.” To Vincent, I said, “Make sure no one sees him.”

I waited for my friend to leave with Aiden and Marie before saying more, purposefully refraining from looking Cécile’s direction. I could sense the anticipation on her – that there was something she wanted to tell me or needed to say, but whatever it was could wait. And if she thought otherwise, she could bloody well order me to listen to her, since she clearly had no compunctions against doing so.

Marc stood next to Sabine – an unlikely pair, though neither appeared discomforted. “How long do we have?” I asked him, not wasting time on pleasantries. He and the twins must have broken out of Trollus moments after the curse was lifted, then come to Trianon at full sprint with whatever warnings they had for me. If they were here, then I’d no doubt that the frontrunners of my father’s soldiers were right behind them.

Marc didn’t answer, only extracted a letter from a pocket and handed it over. I recognized the seal as my father’s, the wax smeared as though applied with great haste. “What is this?”

“I don’t know.” He rocked slightly on his heels. “All he said was that it was to be brought to you with no delays.”

My fingers hesitated over the seal, the paper feeling heavy in my hands.

“Tristan–”

“Later.” I cut Cécile off before she could say more, and then snapped the seal.



* * *



Tristan,

You have succeeded where five centuries of rulers have failed, as I knew you would. All is forgiven. Return posthaste to Trollus with Cécile so that you can be reinstated as heir. Your people need you here. As do I.

T



* * *



Everything in the room fell away as I read and reread the lines, the paper in my hand trembling.

“Tristan, what does it say?” Marc’s question filled my ears, though I sensed he’d had to repeat it more than once. I cleared my throat, but the words caught, so I cleared it again and read the note. As I did, I could hear my father’s voice and see his gloating face, and all I could think of was that iron-rimmed square on my aunt’s Guerre set where the onyx piece with my face sat. How my father considered me a puppet to be played as he saw fit. How he believed he could pull my strings until I’d accomplished what he wanted, never once caring about the cost, then call me back to heel.

I hated him.

I hated him.

I hated him.

“Tristan.” I felt Cécile’s hand on my sleeve. “Tristan, listen to me. Your father isn’t the enemy.”

The paper in my hands exploded into fire.





Chapter Ten





Cécile





The moment I said it, I knew it was a mistake. Not because I was wrong, but because Tristan wasn’t ready to hear it. I should’ve explained the facts and given him the chance to come to the conclusion himself, because when it came to his father, he was not logical. He was not reasonable. He wasn’t himself.

The letter from his father exploded into silvery fire, and I dropped my hand from Tristan’s sleeve and took a step back from the heat.

He went very still in the way only trolls could manage, then slowly turned his head to fix me with an unblinking stare. That strange and alien gaze that seemed entirely without emotion. Almost without… life. A lie of an expression, because the sense of betrayal I felt from him twisted my guts. The silence stretched for what seemed like painful minutes before he exhaled and said, “Explain.”

“We went to talk to the fairies,” I started to say, then stopped, realizing that it sounded like I’d deliberately courted disaster. “We needed to know what was going on in Trollus – what our enemies were planning.” I glanced at Sabine, and she nodded once in encouragement. “I knew you’d send scouts to spy, but even if they evaded capture – which isn’t likely – they wouldn’t know what to look for. They wouldn’t understand the dynamics like we would. And I knew the fairies could open a hole that would allow me to see what’s happening in Trollus without risk of capture.”