Stolen Songbird(139)

“Or not.” The door clicked shut. “The grandmother is a witch – and it seems we already have one too many of those within the confines of this city.”

Jér?me and Christophe dropped to their knees. Ana?s’s grip on my hand tightened, and Tristan spun towards the door.

As soon as I heard the King’s voice, I knew my time was up. He wanted me dead, and this way it would happen without him even muddying his hands. I would be just another human who succumbed to the darkness of Trollus.

“Have you lost your mind?” Tristan shouted. “She’s injured! If we don’t help her, she’ll die!”

Thibault tsked through his fat lips. “Tragic, to be sure, but such is the way of life. The strong flourish, the weak perish. It is not our way to interfere.” He walked over to the bed and leaned over, cold eyes taking in my weakness. I felt like a small, injured creature under the eye of a hungry vulture. “Pathetically weak,” he said, turning away. “I am sure we can find you something stronger.”

Tristan’s eyes bulged with fury. “She is my wife,” he howled at his father.

“Your Majesty, you must reconsider,” Ana?s gasped. “If she dies…” Her eyes flickered to Tristan.

The King chuckled. “Never fear, Ana?s. I won’t let my boy die. If I have to tie him up for months and force-feed him gruel myself, I’ll do it.”

Even though he was discussing my impending death, I felt relief at the King’s words. He wouldn’t let Tristan die. Tristan wouldn’t have to endure torture in order to survive. But while this knowledge relieved that anxiety, it did nothing to quell my fear of what was to come for me. I did not think I could stand it if the pain got much worse, but the thought of losing consciousness was worse. I didn’t want to lose my last moments. I wanted to live. Clenching my eyes shut, I prayed for a higher power to intervene and keep this hour from becoming my last.

“No,” Tristan said, the word ripping me out of my reverie. “I won’t live without her.”

His father smiled. “How poetic. Unfortunately, kings and their heirs cannot afford such romanticism, Tristan. When she dies, you’ll take a nice troll girl to your bed, one of my choosing.” He shot Ana?s a nasty grin. “Not you, bleeder, so don’t get your hopes up. A nice, unflawed one. Once she produces an heir or two, you, Tristan, can drown yourself in the river for all I care. It won’t matter. You won’t matter.”

“You’re a monster,” I said, my words barely loud enough to hear.

Thibault leaned down over my bed, his breath hot and smelling of garlic. “Yes, but you knew that before you even came, didn’t you, Cécile?”

I cringed away from the creature above me, for the King was like a thing of nightmares. The beast hunting in the midnight spaces, beneath bridges and in forest caves. Always watching and always waiting for the chance to strike.

He pressed a hand against my forehead. “You are in a great deal of pain, I think.” He looked at Jér?me, as if noticing him for the first time. “Do you have something you can give her? No need for her to spend her last days in agony.”

Jér?me’s face was white from fear. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The King turned his attention back to Tristan. “You will do nothing to interfere, do you understand?”

“I hear you,” Tristan said. “But I far from understand why you are doing this.”

“All that matters is that you obey.” The King strode from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“I’m sorry.” My voice was quiet, even in the silence of the room.

“I won’t let you die,” Tristan said, the words almost a groan. In two strides, he was next to the bed, his forehead pressed against mine. Magic enveloped us, blocking our words from the others in the room. “I can’t lose you.” His words were muffled against my hair. “I won’t.”

“There isn’t anything you can do,” I said. “Except to let me go and promise me you’ll live.” It took every ounce of control for me to keep my voice calm and reasonable. I wasn’t even certain why I bothered, because I could see my anguish reflected in his eyes. He felt it too.

“No.”

“You aren’t making this any easier for me by saying that,” I said, my fingers clutching at his shirt. My voice cracked, and a sob racked my body with pain.

“It is the truth.” I could hear his heart thundering against my ear, feel his misery and fear. “I should have made you go when I had the chance.”