Warrior Witch (The Malediction Trilogy #3)(57)

And disappeared.

“Martin,” I screamed, and a second later, his head appeared through the illusion blocking the entrance.

Then the ice collapsed beneath me, water closing over my head.





Chapter Thirty-One





Tristan





I stared off into space while Josette sat quietly in the chair opposite, her face pale, one foot bouncing up and down at a frenetic pace. I would’ve liked to do the same, but I was playing a part, and had been doing so for hours. Tiny little signs of irritation and anger, and a distinct loss of focus. Enough for Josette to clue-in that her sister’s spell was wearing off and to set Winter’s plan in motion.

Little did she know that the spell had faded at dawn this morning.

Which was a problem in and of itself. Cécile was in the thick of it, and as much as I knew this was only Winter toying with her fear in order to lure me out, my nerves were stretched tight. Every instinct told me to go to her, but that would have me falling for Winter’s ploy, whereas I had every intention of her falling for mine.

“Why do you insist on sitting here?” I finally snapped. “Isn’t there something else you should be doing?”

“I’m keeping you company,” she said, rising to her feet and throwing another few pieces of wood on the already blazing fire.

“What you’re doing is cooking me alive,” I muttered, pulling off my coat and throwing it carelessly over the back of the chair. “It’s aggravating.”

“Oh?” Her voice brightened. “I mean… I thought it rather cool in here.”

I shook my head. “Come, Souris. Let’s get some fresh air.” I led him up into the tower, leaning over the parapet and then drumming my fingers against the edge. Taking a deep breath, I paced swiftly back and forth across the tower, stopping from time to time to look in the direction of Trollus. And my father.

Because if my plan for Winter succeeded, he’d be my next target.

I’d always known that ridding the world of King Thibault would be a complicated task, and it was no less so with the curse broken. I might be slightly more powerful than him, but he was more experienced, and he knew most of my tricks. Remaining in Trollus was a clever tactic, because I couldn’t attack him from a distance without putting the entire city in jeopardy, which he knew I’d never do. If I managed to get close to him, he’d be ready and wary, and beating him would be no sure thing. What I needed was a way to lower his guard, to make him think I wasn’t a threat.

Which, if everything went according to plan, would happen soon enough.

Suitably cooled and certain that Joss had accomplished her task, I trotted back down the stairs to find her standing in front of the fire, expression intent.

“What are you doing?”

She jumped. “Nothing. Just warming my hands.” A bead of sweat formed on her forehead, and she brushed it away as the black marble decoys she’d dumped in the fire exploded with twin cracks. “Sap in the wood,” she explained, and I gave her a dour glare.

“It’s too hot,” I said, then added, “Pour me some wine, would you.” I was being rude, but she only nodded. And when she turned her back, I glanced at the clock, watching it strike the hour. Everyone and everything should be in place.

She filled both wine glasses to the brim, walking carefully back to the table and depositing one next to the plate containing the remains of my meal. I ignored it in favor of picking at a loose thread on my shirt, and as predicted, Souris leapt onto the table, knocking the wine glass as he went for the scraps of food. The red liquid sloshed over my trousers, and I swore.

“Damn it, Souris!” I shouted at him, then picked up the empty glass and hurled it across the room where it smashed against a particularly ugly tapestry. He barked once, then scuttled under the table where he eyed me with a toothy grin.

“Tristan,” Joss said, her face pale. “I think Cécile’s spell is wearing off.”

I stood staring at her for a long moment, then I dived toward my discarded coat, ripping the pocket as I extracted the handkerchief the seeds – and, more recently, the marbles – had been wrapped in.

“They’re gone,” I hissed, the scrap of fabric disappearing in a burst of flame.

The room trembled, magic compounding the heat of the fire.

“Are you sure?” Josette was shaking, her wine a pool of red on the tabletop.

I turned and gave her black glare.

“Maybe they’re in your other coat,” she whispered.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “I need them.”

And it was the truth. It was taking every ounce of willpower I had not to react to Cécile’s terror. It’s not real, I told myself. It’s all part of Winter’s plan.

But what if it was real? What if Cécile needed me and this plan was a mistake? The back of the chair cracked and splintered beneath my grip, and I shoved it aside.

Moving with speed no human possessed, I was around the table, catching hold of Joss’s sleeve and dragging her close. “Your sister is in danger, but if I leave…” I stared intently at her, as though she possessed the solution to my dilemma.

She cracked. “Please help my sister, Tristan. Please don’t let anything happen to her.”

It was either the finest bit of acting she’d managed, or she was genuinely afraid for Cécile’s wellbeing. Suspecting the latter, I bit the inside of my cheeks. Something wasn’t right, but I didn’t dare stop now.