Warrior Witch (The Malediction Trilogy #3)(60)

“I’m going to freeze to death if you don’t do something,” I stuttered out through my clattering teeth, unable to move from where I lay. Everything was numb, the act of breathing all I could manage.

Magic enveloped me like a warm blanket, and with it came a wave of sleepiness that I knew I needed to fight. But it was so hard. Too hard, and before I knew it, I’d drifted off.

I awoke to find myself suspended in the air, my body warm from the press of magic. “Where are we?” I muttered.

“On the way to Trianon,” Martin said, squinting at me with teary bloodshot eyes. “I’ve been avoiding the road, just in case.”

“Put me down.” My clothes were mostly dry and, though I was exhausted, I no longer felt on the brink of death. I retied the lace on one of my boots, then started walking. We needed to get to Trianon with the information on Angoulême’s location. And I needed to tell Tristan that his father had defended me from the sluag, had let me go. That he was going to help with the Winter Queen. That Tristan needed to stay where he was.

“Wrong way,” Martin said, tugging on my arm.

I blinked and looked around, feeling disoriented. “But Tristan…”

Wasn’t in Trianon.

“Oh, no,” I whispered. “He’s on his way to Trollus.” But he had to have passed us on his way, and I could think of no good reason why he wouldn’t have stopped when he knew I was all right. Unless it wasn’t his choice.

“We have to go back,” I said, dragging on Martin’s arm.

“But Thibault told us to go to Trianon.”

I fixed him with a glare that made clear exactly what I thought of that proposition, and then I broke into a run.





Chapter Thirty-Four





Tristan





I’d seen Martin carrying Cécile in the direction of Trianon, but hadn’t stopped. There wasn’t time, and I trusted the librarian as much as anyone to get her to the relative safety of the city. Or at least I would have, if she’d remained unconscious. Now she was backtracking toward Trollus, and I didn’t have time to do anything about it.

Slipping under the overhang, I made my way up the River Road until I heard the sound of voices. “Searched the lake from back to front,” someone said. “No sign of her or the half-bloods she was going on about.”

“Maybe she snuck out for a nap,” replied another, and I recognized the voice as Guilluame’s.

“But you heard the noise!”

“Could’ve just been rocks falling into the lake. Tree’s been neglected of late.”

“But the lake was frozen solid.”

I coughed, interrupting the guards’ conversation. Not a one of the four had sensed my approach. “Excuse me.”

“Another blasted human,” one said, resting his elbows on the bars. “Go! If you seek shelter, you’ll find it in Trianon with Prince Tristan.”

“I’m afraid that’s no longer the case.” I pulled back the hood of my cloak, readying to duck and run if one of them attacked.

To their credit, none of them turned tail. The air went scalding hot as they linked their magic, the gate going cherry red and the surrounding rocks smoldering from the intensity of their shield. “I need to speak to my father.”

“Something’s not right,” said the female amongst them. “I can’t feel his power. We should’ve known he was coming a mile off.”

“It’s a trick,” Guilluame replied. “He’s a human disguised as Tristan.”

“That’s easy enough for you to check,” I snapped. There was only so much time, and I couldn’t afford a delay. “Either let me pass or send someone to fetch the King.”

The heat remained, their faces unconvinced.

“I’ve been deprived of my magic,” I said, sweat trickling down my back. “One of you should be more than sufficient to keep me in line, if that is your concern.”

“Go to the palace,” the female ordered the youngest of them. To the others, she said, “Let him in. We’ll keep him here until we have our orders.”

The glowing gate swung outward, and I gave it wide berth as I passed, not wishing to be burned. My skin stung from the radiant heat as it was, healing mortal slow without my magic. So strange to fear something so insignificant.

When I was through, the female pulled off her gauntlet and slapped a hand against my cheek, feeling for the presence of a disguise. “Nothing,” she said, her voice curious. “It’s him.”

“Deprived of your magic, you say.” Guillaume pulled off his helmet. “How’d that come to pass?”

“That’s a conversation I’ll have with my father and none other.”

“Of course.” He grinned, revealing a piece of something green stuck between his two front teeth. “I wonder how well His Grace will reward me for putting you down.” Then he attacked, not me, but his fellows, sending the female flying through the air and then slicing the remaining guard in two.

I turned to run, but his magic caught my ankle, then slammed me against the cobbles. “Some things are better done by hand,” he said, and his boot caught me in the ribs with an audible crack. The female guard raced back and tried to interfere, but he walled her off, his magic stronger, if only barely.