Warrior Witch (The Malediction Trilogy #3)(35)
“Fine,” I said, knowing that somehow, I was getting the worst of this bargain. “Now bring me back to life.”
“It will be done.”
And before I could say another word, I fell back into blackness the only sound her voice. “Goodbye, mortal prince. For now.”
“Tristan!”
I blinked, Sabine’s face inches from mine, her eyes wild with panic. “They’re here,” she screamed, and with impressive strength, dragged me towards the stairs.
Up and up we went, then out the door and she was pointing out over the city.
My eyes tracked that direction, and there was no mistaking the cause of her fright. The streets of Trianon were full of troll-lights. Hundreds of them. And they were coming this way.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cécile
“She’s dead.”
The answer fell out of my mouth, and I immediately wished I could take it back and deliver it in a way that wouldn’t cause my sister’s eyes to fill with tears, her chin to tremble. As if there were such a way. Joss had disliked Genevieve, but she’d still been her mother.
“How? Was it the witch? Anushka?”
I swallowed hard. “She was Anushka.”
Silence.
“You killed her.”
“I had to. It wasn’t her. Our real mother was already dead.” I was babbling. None of what I said made any sense, but I couldn’t seem to piece together a sentence that would do what I intended. “It was the only way.”
“To free them?”
“Yes.”
She shoved me, and I landed hard on my bottom.
“You don’t understand,” I said. “Let me explain.”
“What’s there to explain?” she shouted, blind to the panicked expressions on the others’ faces. “This is your fault. You killed our mother and you set these monsters free to slaughter innocent people. And all for some stupid boy who can’t be bothered to come out from behind his castle walls to undo the damage that he’s caused.”
“Joss–”
“I wish you’d stayed dead,” she spat, then swung onto her horse and galloped up the trail.
Everyone was staring, silent, with hands in pockets or resting on hips.
Chris stepped up next to me. “You can explain what happened when we get back to camp. It’s not safe for us to linger here any longer.”
* * *
It took us the rest of the day and into the evening to reach camp, a set of cabins on the edge of Moraine Lake that hunters used and maintained. They sat in the midst of at least two dozen tents, and though it was too dark for me to see the faces of those moving between them, I recognized most of the voices.
“That’s Joss’s horse,” Chris said, helping me off the back of his animal. “So you can quit fretting.”
“I somehow doubt that.”
He shrugged. “This way.”
As I followed Chris toward one of the cabins, Marc and the twins fell into step next to me, and the world fell silent as we were enveloped in magic.
“What do you intend to tell them?” Marc asked.
“The truth.”
I could all but feel the silent conversation taking place over my head. “These are my people,” I snapped. “They deserve to know.”
“Perhaps they do,” Marc replied. “But will they understand what you tell them? Will knowing the truth about why Tristan remains in Trianon help or hinder them? Will it help or hinder us?”
I chewed the inside of my cheeks, considering how I might explain to people who knew little or nothing about trolls why Tristan remained hidden while the people of the Isle suffered at his brother’s hand. How to explain the weight of a promise. The value of a name. It would sound like nonsense in their ears, a ridiculous excuse.
“We need them,” Marc said, slowing his pace to buy us more time to talk. “We cannot hope to win this war without the support of the humans, but to have that, we need to give them a reason to fight for us. You need to give them that reason.”
“I’m not a leader, Marc,” I said, my skin prickling as I counted down the steps to the doorway of the cabin. “And even if I was, I’m the one who unleashed Roland. What could I possibly say that would make up for that?”
“You made that choice based on the belief that we would prevail over our enemies. That we could build a world where your kind and mine lived in harmony.” He caught hold of my arm, pulling me around to face him. “Did you think that it would happen easily?”
I mutely shook my head.
“You’re a princess, Cécile. The future Queen. Start acting like it.”
The crackling of the fires and the whistle of the wind through the mountains filled my ears once more.
“You coming in, or we having this meeting out in the cold?” Chris stood in the entrance to the cabin, beyond him those men and women who were respected in our community, Jér?me, my gran, and my father included.
“Give me a minute alone with them,” I said to Marc and the twins, and then I stepped through the door.
There were ten people crammed inside the small building, the fire at the center of the lone room more for light than heat, the press of human flesh enough to put beads of sweat on the brows of all present.