Warrior Witch (The Malediction Trilogy #3)(52)

“None that I know of, except…” He hesitated. “But no, none of the Angoulême ancestors were entombed there. The Montignys married with every other great family, but never them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Montigny tomb in the mountains.” Martin went back to the stacks and retrieved another volume, this one filled with drawings embellished with beautiful color. “Until the Fall rendered it impossible to do so, every Montigny was interred in a mountain tomb. And when a king or queen died…” He stopped flipping through the book and spread it flat.

I stared at the drawing. “They carved their faces into the rock.”

Martin nodded. “The sculptures were too large for the humans to destroy, if they even knew they were there.”

This was the place where Angoulême was hiding, I knew it. And in the knowing, all the other pieces fell into place: the way Angoulême seemed oblivious to the flaws in Lessa’s disguise. His inappropriate familiarity with the girl who was supposed to be his daughter. Angoulême knew it was Lessa beneath Ana?s’s face, and had for some time.

“Where is this place?” I asked.

Martin flipped to a map, then went very still, his eyes wide.

“If my memory serves me correctly,” a deep voice said. “It’s right about here.” A hand that matched the voice reached over my shoulder, a thick index finger tapping a spot deep within the mountains.

A shuddering breath exited my lips, and I slowly turned around, my eyes tracking up until they met the silver gaze of King Thibault de Montigny.





Chapter Twenty-Nine





Cécile





“I must confess,” the King said, resting the butt of his sluag spear on the ground, “that I did not think it was possible for you to look worse than you did when you first came to us.” He flicked at a soiled lock of my hair, and I flinched. “You’ve proven me wrong.”

“How did you know I was here?” It hardly mattered, but it was the only thing I could think of to say.

“I didn’t. A runner brought word of a foul smell in the library, which the librarians feared was a sluag.” He glanced around at the stacks. “I’ve spent many a long hour in these hallowed halls, so I took it upon myself to personally deal with the problem.” One eyebrow rose. “Imagine my surprise when I discovered it was my dear daughter-in-law who was the source of the stink.”

“Sewers.” My mind raced, trying and failing to come up with some way to extricate myself from his clutches.

“Hmm.” He frowned. “They have been neglected in recent days, I’m afraid.”

“Why?” I asked. “Did you kill off all the half-bloods that cleaned them for you?”

“No, they abandoned me for my son.” His eyes went to Martin. “I do not feel you need to be privy to this conversation.”

Launching myself off the stool I’d perched on, I stepped between the librarian and the King. “Don’t you dare hurt him.”

Something that looked almost like hurt flickered through his eyes, but was gone in an instant. “Why would I? Good librarians are hard to come by.”

Martin said nothing, and when I turned my head, I saw that the King had encased him in an opaque box, effectively removing him from either hearing or witnessing the conversation. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Trying to figure out where the Duke is hiding so that we can capture him and stop Roland,” I said, sticking with the truth and saving my lies for when I needed them.

“Tristan is quite capable of stopping his brother,” he replied. “Why hasn’t he?”

“Why haven’t you?” I countered. “What happened to your plan to take the Isle peaceably?”

“You happened.” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve been informed the Regent is dead, killed by a lord allegedly under my control. Lord Aiden, under the directive of my son, has taken his father’s position, and together, they have formed an alliance against me, and against Roland and Angoulême.”

“That is correct,” I said, holding his gaze. “You are well informed.”

“I am.” He tilted his head. “And you, Cécile, are a liar. Aiden du Chastelier, having failed to deliver on his word to me, is likely little more than a drooling mess of madness at this point. Tristan has taken a page from my book, and has someone else masquerading as the lord. Is Aiden still alive?”

“And well,” I lied. “I worked a spell to temper your compulsion. It troubles him still, but not so much so that we cannot keep him in check.”

“If you knew of such a spell, you would’ve used it for yourself.”

“Yes, I would’ve,” I said. “But I didn’t know of it until after I was past needing it. Anushka showed me a good many things before she died.”

“As any mother should.”

Of course he knew. Was there anything he didn’t know?

“Why are you here, Cécile?” he asked. “Why did Tristan send you and his friends to dispatch Roland? And when you failed, why did he take the risk of sending you here in an attempt to discover Angoulême’s location? Why has he not dealt with Roland himself?”