Warrior Witch (The Malediction Trilogy #3)(67)

She hesitated, and I added, “Time flows different in Arcadia than it does here. How long have you been gone from your throne? Do your people still owe you their allegiance, or have you been replaced? Have you lost the war?”

Silence. “What is it that you want?”

“Your oath that you and yours will never venture into this world again.”

She snorted. “Your boldness undermines your cleverness, troll. Let’s see how well you bargain while the witch bleeds.”

Winter wrenched open Cécile’s cell door; but out of the darkness swung heavy steel shackles, one of them catching the Queen hard across the cheek, slicing it open. Blood poured down the fairy’s cheek as Cécile stepped out of her cell, her face tight with focus as she bound the Queen’s magic. My magic.

“Witch!” The fairy shrieked, but before she could attack Cécile, I tackled her to the ground, wrapping the manacle chain around her.

“Where are your wolves?” I whispered into her ear. “Where are your dragons and leviathans? Have they abandoned you now when you need them most?”

It was that more than the burning metal around her neck that brought fear to her eyes. The idea that she had been gone too long, and that her desire to be queen of all had rendered her queen of nothing. “You cannot go back while in the possession of my magic,” I said. “You are trapped.”

Her throat convulsed. “If you take your power back, I’ll swear it.”

I eased off her throat. “Say it.”

“I swear to keep the Winter fey from this world.”

I smiled. “Done.”

This bargain, much like the first I’d made with her, reverberated through me like a thunderclap. But with it came the sweet ache of power, and almost immediate relief as my multitude of injuries began to heal. Releasing her from the steel wrapped around her neck, I sat back on my haunches.

Her outline blurred, the shape of a woman falling into semi-transparent mist. Then her glamour shifted, and what rose to its feet was a thing of fangs and claws, elongated pupils alien and unreadable. It snarled once, then the world tore and it sprang through the opening, which disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Cécile stood shivering, one arm braced against the wall, the other pressed against her stomach. I removed the magic that had been gagging her. “Are you all right?”

“No.” She blinked once, eyes glazed. Then her knees buckled. I caught her, pulling her close even as I knew we couldn’t linger. Holding her chased away any lingering need I had for the seeds; made me forget why feeling nothing had ever appealed to me. With her, whether she was in my arms or on the far side of the world, I wasn’t alone. Never had that meant more than now.

“That was quick thinking with the spell,” I said, needing to break the silence before I broke down. “How did you get free?”

Opening her balled-up fist, she held out a hairpin decorated with a jeweled flower. I recognized it, pain stabbing through me anew. “She fixed my hair just before…” She swallowed hard. “Take it.”

It felt like punishment, but I plucked my mother’s hairpin from Cécile’s palm and placed it in my pocket. One final gift that seemed laden with foresight; because without it, Winter might have come out ahead in our transaction.

“Your aunt left me with some things to tell you,” Cécile said, squeezing my hand.

“They will have to wait. We need to get out of Trollus before someone discovers I’ve recovered my magic.” That no one had come down yet was concerning. Marc was supposed to have bargained for the safety of trolls and humans alike before releasing her from the circle, but what if she’d gotten free some other way? What if everyone in Trollus was dead?

I helped Cécile to her feet, then lifted her into the air. She’d been pushed to the point of death and beyond in this past day, and we weren’t done yet. I needed her, and that meant conserving her strength. “I can’t risk an encounter with Roland within Trollus,” I said, cloaking us in illusion and dimming my light. “The city would be destroyed along with everyone in it. We’ll need to lure him out to fight, but I don’t know how.”

“We lure him out by capturing the one who holds his strings.”

I risked a glance down at my wife. She was so very pale, skin marked with livid bruises and scratches. What had happened to her in the days that she’d been gone? In the days where I hadn’t cared whether she lived or died? One thing was certain: I needed to get her help immediately. “That would be a good plan, but I don’t know where Angoulême is.”

A faint smile cross her lips. “But I do. He’s with your ancestors,” she said, then she passed out in my arms.





Chapter Thirty-Eight





Cécile





I woke to the smell of wood smoke and roasting meat, my body sore, but the worst of my aches and pains gone.

“She’s awake. I’ll give you two a moment alone,” I heard my gran say, and as I blinked away the stickiness in my eyes, Tristan leaned over me. “How do you feel?”

“Better.” I looked around the interior of the cabin. “I don’t remember getting here.”

“That’s because you slept the entire way,” he replied, then twisted from side to side, cracking his back. “You’re heavier than you look.”