Warrior Witch (The Malediction Trilogy #3)(71)
On my terms.
I walked up to the edge of the lake and stared across. Twin falls poured down the mountain’s face, and between them stood a door twice my height and carved of solid stone. It was closed.
I eyed the track of footprints and blood leading around the right half of the lake, then at the untouched snow around the left. With little tendrils of magic, I searched the statues for anyone who might be hidden behind their bulky stone shapes, and opened my senses to any troll of power who might be near, but it was impossible to tell when the air was teeming with so much latent magic.
Which was very likely their intent.
The shield encircling me was as strong as any I’d ever used, but it gave me little comfort. Angoulême was clever, and underestimating him might see me dead. I knew something would happen, but not what. And not when. And not where.
Exhaling softly, I stepped onto the frozen surface of the lake and began my way toward the door. I was about halfway across when I felt the surge of magic as it resolved toward its purpose. I started to run, but it was too late.
The lake exploded around me in liquid fire, and the world fell out from beneath me.
The weight of the magic shielding my body dragged me down into the depths of the lake, bubbles from the boiling water obscuring my vision as I descended further from the surface.
Clever bastard.
Lessening my shield enough for buoyancy to pull me back up put me at risk of cooking alive, and it left me vulnerable to whatever attacks Angoulême had planned for when I resurfaced.
I lashed out with ropes of magic, blindly aiming for one of the statues, but they slammed against a shield at the surface of the lake, the impact driving me further into the depths. I struck out again, harder, but I had no leverage, and the motion sent my sphere tumbling, disorienting me until it slammed against the lake bed. Bracing against the ground, I flung the full force of my power at the shield, destroying it with explosion that made the earth tremble.
My ropes of power swung through the air, searching for an anchor, but Angoulême knocked at them with his own power, preventing them from finding purchase. I fought blindly, earning a concussive blast each time the magics collided.
Louder.
While my ropes continued to flail above, I turned my attention to the rock beneath my feet, channeling heat into the earth until it glowed brilliant red, the water boiling and turning to steam in a violent blast. I launched out of the lake under the cover of the white cloud of mist, landing in a crouch on the edge of the now dry lake.
A whistling razor of power sank into my shield, then another and another, all coming from different directions. Pulling out my sword, I coated the steel with magic and listened, swinging hard, not just deflecting, but destroying the invisible weapons with explosions of silver sparks.
Then I turned on the door.
“Come out, come out,” I crooned, slipping strands of magic through the cracks to magnify my voice to a deafening level. Lifting a hand, I scratched my finger through the air, mimicking the magic I used to claw at the door. The sound was horrible, and with a smile, I repeated the gesture. Then I punched out with my fist, and a giant crack formed in the granite. Again, and a large piece split off, smashing as it hit the ground.
But I couldn’t draw this out much longer. He knew I was toying with him.
“I’d rather not destroy the last piece of our history remaining outside of Trollus,” I said, walking forward until I stood a few paces from the entrance. “Perhaps you might do the honorable thing and come out rather than hiding in yet another hole.”
“I think not, Your Highness.” The Duke’s voice filtered out on threads of magic, and if he feared his imminent demise, his tone did not betray it. “I’m quite comfortable where I am. Did you find my gift, by the way? Why you bothered sending such a weakling was beyond me – especially one who knew so much.”
Who could say what the librarian had told him under torture? But two could play at that game. “I haven’t seen the man in months, and I most certainly didn’t send him to do my dirty work. He was here to settle a different score. You are not a popular troll, Angoulême.”
Silence.
“Curious how I found you? I’ll tell you,” I said, not waiting for an answer. “It was straight from Lessa’s lips.” I adjusted the sleeves of my coat. “My sister is a double-crossing liar, Your Grace, and yet you’ve left her in charge of your puppet prince. It’s unlike you to be so trusting, but perhaps trust is a privilege you reserve for those who warm your bed.”
All I could hear was the whistle of the wind, and a bead of sweat trickled down my spine. What if he suspected our plan? What if even now, he was setting a trap? But then he spoke. “You’ve always been over fond of your own voice, Tristan.”
“We all have our faults.” I let the smile fall from my face. “She had you fooled for a time, though, didn’t she? Made you believe she was Ana?s, which I’m sure was infuriating. But she convinced you of the merit of letting the ruse play out, revealed a long game beyond what you’d ever imagined.”
Staring at the cracked granite, I let down the walls between me and the hurt my friend’s name always conjured. “You know it was Lessa who killed Ana?s, not my father. Not even on his orders, though I’m sure she said otherwise. Still trust her?” I paused to let that sink in. “You’re a fool if you do. She’s clever, and willing to go further than either of us to get what she wants.”