Stolen Songbird(29)

Taking a couple of tentative steps in the direction of the bed, I gained confidence walking blind and promptly collided with a table. The furniture and I both went down with a thump, accompanied by the sound of smashing glass.

“Stones and sky, girl!” Tristan snapped. “Have you not made things hard enough without destroying everything I own?”

“I can’t see,” I shouted back at him, trying to climb to my feet and banging my head against another table in the process. “Ouch!”

A ball of light appeared above me as I rubbed the growing lump on my skull. I was starting to get quite the collection.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” I snapped, getting up.

“Watch out for the…”

I winced as a sharp pain lanced into my heel.

“Glass,” Tristan finished, and sympathy filled his corner of my mind.

I hopped on one leg towards the bed, making it halfway before warm ropes of power lifted me up and deposited me on the covers. “I didn’t need help,” I grumbled, pulling on my ankle in a vain attempt to examine the bottom of my foot.

“Sorry.” He came closer. “I’d forgotten you had no light.”

The way he spoke made me feel like I lacked something as fundamental as a heart or a brain.

“Here.” He handed me the wineglass I’d brought in with me. As I touched the stem, the bowl lit up with bright silver light. “It will glow at your touch, and,” he took it again, “dim when set down.”

I snatched the precious item from him like a greedy child.

“You’re welcome,” he said, and I flushed at my rudeness. “Let me have a look at your foot.”

With one hand, he took hold of my ankle, his brow furrowing as he examined the shard embedded in my heel. I clutched my glowing wineglass and held my breath.

“Ready?” He met my gaze.

I gave a quick nod, hoping my feet didn’t smell.

A sharp sting and the pink-tinged glass floated through the air to drop on the bedside table.

“Don’t you ever do anything with your hands?” I asked. “I mean, without magic?”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips, and he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, wrapping the silk around my foot. “Sometimes.”

I grew aware of the warmth of said hands on my ankle and jerked out of his grip. Avoiding his gaze, I pulled up the covers and carefully set my glass on the table, watching its light dim. He did not light another to replace it, and soon we were surrounded by darkness once again.

“Cécile?”

“Yes?”

He hesitated, the sound of him swallowing loud against the silence. “In the morning, they’ll ask… They’ll want to know if we…”

I listened to him breathing, and I waited.

“I’ll need you to lie convincingly, or I’m afraid there will be consequences for both of us.”

“If you’re so concerned about my abilities to tell tall tales, why don’t you do it?” I snapped.

I felt his irritation mount. “Because I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?” I grabbed hold of my wineglass so I could see him.

“Because I can’t tell a lie. No troll can tell a lie.” He pointed to a cushion. “I couldn’t so much as claim this cushion was any color other than red.”

My brow furrowed. “I don’t believe you.”

“Of all the things that you have discovered today, this is what you choose to disbelieve?” He passed a weary hand over his face. “It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not. Lie about it. If you don’t, and my father discovers I have disobeyed him in this, we will both suffer for it.”

“Afraid of your father?” I asked.

“I’m not…” he started, then broke off, silent for several deafening moments. “I will take his punishment before I compromise my standards in this. Of that, you can rest assured.”

I set my glass on the table, extinguishing the light. My cheeks burned and I pulled the covers up higher, hoping he couldn’t see in the dark. Knowing he would not willingly force himself upon me was a relief, but there was also a part of me stung by his words. I’d never been the girl the boys fought to dance with at festivals; that was my sister with her golden hair and sunny disposition. But neither had anyone been so blunt as to tell me I did not meet their standards. “Fine,” I finally mumbled.