Stolen Songbird(142)

They began to exchange weighted looks with one another. “We need time to decide,” Tips said.

“Decide now,” I snapped. “Or any chance of you ever having freedom will go up in smoke.” White-hot flames rose from my outstretched palm, and I held the plans above them, watching as the edges began to singe.

Groans of dismay filled the air. I was playing off lifetimes’ worth of desperation, offering what they wanted more than anything in the world in exchange for the one thing no troll gave up lightly. The question was, once I had the names, would they be enough?





CHAPTER 37





CéCILE





The next several hours passed in a haze of semi-consciousness. I was aware of Ana?s’s presence, of Tristan’s aunt ordering that I be cleaned up so that I might die with dignity, of my maids holding my body rigid with magic while they laced me into an elaborate evening gown, and of the weight of the jewels they fastened to my ears, wrists, and throat.



Of the King arriving, a liveried Lessa trailing at his heels.

“Leave us,” he barked. Zoé and élise dashed from the room, but Ana?s remained. “I won’t let you hurt her,” she said, her shoulders set.

“If that was what I intended,” he said, “do you think you could stop me?”

“Then I’m going to go get Tristan,” she said, and bolted from the room.

The King waited until the door slammed shut behind her and said, “Please do, Ana?s. Please do.” Then he jerked his chin at Lessa. “Follow her.” A faint smile rose to her lips as she hurried off.

I watched, frozen, as the King came across the room towards me.

“Do not look so afraid, Cécile. Right now you are more useful to me alive than dead.” He smiled. “I have a witch-woman waiting to heal you once Tristan makes his move.”

What was he talking about? My sluggish mind tried to puzzle out the meaning of his words. If he had someone here who could heal me, what was he waiting for? Alarm bells went off in my head.

“He never made mistakes before you arrived,” the King mused, the bed groaning as he settled his bulk on the edge. “Now he behaves rashly, making decisions based on emotion rather than logic. Which has served my purposes, but is not a good quality in a future king. He will learn much from suffering the consequences.”

“You’ve been manipulating him,” I said, my words sticky and thick on my tongue. “If you knew he plotted against you, why didn’t you stop him? Why did you let it go so far?”

“I’ve been training him,” the King clarified. “This plot will fail, but he will soon begin afresh. Perhaps he will fail again. And again. But one day, he will wrench the crown from my cold dead hands and, by then, he will be the man he needs to be to rule Trollus. Not a sentimental, idealistic boy.”

The loud clamor of the bells signaling the beginning of curfew sounded, echoing through the room.

He sighed. “You see Cécile, as a child, Tristan was entranced by humanity.” He twisted a golden ring around one thick finger. “He was constantly sneaking out of the palace to go see the human traders in the market; was always pestering them with questions and playing with their animals. As he grew older, his minders constantly found him at the end of the River Road, staring at the world beyond. He had no interest in politics or in the concerns of our people, and it grew increasing clear to me that his sympathies lay contrary to my own. But no matter how hard I tried to bring him to heel, he would not bend. He was too secure in his position as my sole heir.”

“So you had another child to replace him?” I whispered.

The King shook his head. “Only to threaten his position. But do you know what he said when his brother was born?”

I shook my head.

“That he was glad to have a brother because now he wouldn’t have to be king.” The memory brought fury to his face. “As if being a king were a choice! So as punishment, I made him watch as I tore one of his favorite humans, a charming little old man, to pieces. I told him that if I ever caught him associating with the traders again, I would kill whoever it was. And he wept, but by the very next day, he had begun his pursuit of the crown.”

The door opened and a troll I did not recognize hurried inside. “Your Majesty, the half-bloods are rioting in the streets,” he gasped.

“Indeed.” The King’s face was neutral – he’d expected this. “Order them contained, but keep casualties to a minimum. Do you understand?”