Warrior Witch (The Malediction Trilogy #3)(45)

She touched his sleeve; and though they looked nothing alike, for a moment, she reminded me of Pénélope. “I think you are the better man for it.”

The room was silent for the first time in far too long, but unfortunately, it didn’t last. A knock sounded on the door, and one of Tips’s miners leaned into the room. “Got a girl here who claims to be Cécile’s sister.”

“Let her in,” Marc said, and both of them straightened in surprise as Josette de Troyes entered the room, setting Souris off into a flurry of barking.





Chapter Twenty-Six





Cécile





Three days and six villages later, and we were all exhausted. As was the twins’ supply of tricks. The only strategy we had left was direct conflict between them and Angoulême’s followers, and given their drawn faces and sluggish steps, I was desperately afraid of how that would go. The thought of losing one of them terrified me, not only because they were dear friends, but because together, they represented half of the trolls we had on our side.

I rested my shoulders against the rough wood of the cabin and closed my eyes, wishing Tristan was here. Or that I was in Trianon. It was strange that we’d fought so hard to get back together, to be physically in each other’s presence, and almost as soon as we’d managed it, I’d left.

You could go back.

I bit the insides of my cheeks, knowing that if I returned to Trianon, it would be for my own selfish reasons. I hated the effects of the spell I’d cast on Tristan, hated the flat, toneless intensity of his presence in my head. It wasn’t him. Was like being bonded to a stranger. The purpose of the spell had been to allow me to leave the safety of the city, and if I went back, it would no longer be required.

But what good would I do once I was there?

The solution to our troubles was not in Trianon, but neither was it in this camp. We weren’t going to win this way. It was a stopgap, but the fact remained that Tristan was the only one capable of defeating Roland, and he was as much caged within the Regent’s steel-rimmed castle walls as he ever had been in Trollus. By the time we found a solution to his debt to the Winter Queen – if there even was one – all the folk we’d hidden in the mountains would either have starved to death or sworn oaths to our enemies in a desperate attempt to save themselves. We needed to find Angoulême, capture him, and use him to bring Roland to heel, and I knew we weren’t going to discover his hiding spot through any of his followers. I’d already lost count of how many had fallen dead at my feet as I tried every trick I could think of to extricate the information on their leader’s whereabouts. But he’d been too clever – had been planning his strategy for far too long. The only information I’d gleaned was that Lessa was the only one who knew his location.

Lessa.

The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that the key was the statement Tristan’s half-sister had made to the Duke. A shame I can’t go with you – I would’ve liked to see the faces of my ancestors. Yes, Ana?s’s ancestors were famous and powerful trolls – there were countless portraits of them in Trollus. Probably dozens of places on the Isle where others still hung, but what would be so special about them?

Nothing.

Which meant that was the wrong track, because there had been reverence in her tone. This place was somewhere special, somewhere unique. And just because Tristan and my friends didn’t know about it didn’t mean no one did.

I chewed on my bottom lip, knowing that it would be risky. But we were running out of options and out of time, so maybe it was time to take a chance. I needed to go back to where the answers to my questions always seemed to be.

Back to Trollus.



* * *



There was no time to make preparations, nor any real need, given that I’d be going alone. It was reckless, I knew, but there was no other option. Victoria and Vincent were the only two holding back Roland’s growing army, Tristan was stuck in Trianon, and he needed Marc to help him hold the city. It had to be me.

But convincing my friends to let me go without them would be next to impossible. They’d argue that my life shouldn’t be put in danger, because I’d also be putting Tristan at risk. Except that was why we’d created the seeds – so that I could do what needed to be done. And judging from his ceaselessly neutral emotional state, the magic was still in effect.

I waited until the darkest part of the night, when everyone except those on watch would be fast asleep. Gran stirred as I stood, and I bent down to murmur, “Nature calls,” before edging the door open wide enough for me to sneak outside.

The twins had a tent next to my cabin, but only one of them would be sleeping in it, the other patrolling our camp until it was time to be relieved. I lingered in the shadows, watching the horses on the picket line until, almost as one, they turned their heads and stared off into the darkness. It was something I’d noticed with all animals around the trolls, especially Souris: they watched them. And they listened. The twins had only shrugged when I’d asked why, but now the observation would serve me well.

Marking the direction the animals were staring, I eventually picked out the faint crunch of snow beneath the boots of an invisible troll. Waiting until whichever twin it was moved on, I crept over to the horses, compelling them to be silent as I slipped a saddle and bridle on my mount and led him into the trees, walking slowly as I searched for the wards I knew were in place.