Stolen Songbird(35)

I had precisely zero intention of letting matters get that far, but Esmeralda was the first person I’d met in Trollus willing to give me straight answers, so I was more than willing to hear her out.

“I don’t see how you have any hope of changing things,” I said, hoping my dismissal of her plans might force her to reveal more. “What can a handful of mixed bloods and a few humans do against that kind of magic?”

“Not just a handful,” she replied. “There are more sympathizers to the cause than you can imagine.”

“But do any of them have any power?”

Esmeralda opened her mouth to speak but then snapped it shut again.

“Just as I thought,” I said, my frustration growing. “I am sympathetic to your troubles, but I have just been bonded to one of those you want to overthrow. I’d be a fool to conspire against him.” I bit my lip after the words came out, realizing that I was perhaps being too hasty. If this force of sympathizers was actually a force to be reckoned with, there was a chance they might be willing to help me. Maybe they would be able to send word to my family. I chewed the inside of my cheeks, considering the risks. If I got caught, the King would have me watched more closely and I would lose any chance of escape. And who knew what sort of punishment I would receive for conspiring with those who plotted against him. Or what he would do to them, if he discovered they were trying to help me. As much as I might pretend otherwise, what Esmeralda had told me about the half-bloods’ situation in Trollus had roused a great deal of indignation in me. I hated the King and so did they: it seemed a good enough reason for me to ally myself with their side.

“I am under a great deal of scrutiny right now,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “But I will consider what you have told me. And if there is a way I can help…”

The bell on the door jingled and we all jumped. Albert leaned inside. When he saw Esmeralda, his expression darkened. “What are you doing here?”

“Negotiating with Reagan,” Esmeralda said.

“Where is she, then?”

“I’m here.” The troll appeared from the back, limping slowly across the room.

“I need you to come outside, my lady,” he said. “You aren’t supposed to consort with humans.”

Reluctantly, I followed him out of the shop, élise trailing at my heels. The city streets were as they had been before, filled with trolls going about their business, but I began to see them with a whole new set of eyes. Those dressed in grey were marked with the small differences I’d first seen in Zoé and élise: lighter hair; flushed skin; and, most importantly, human eyes. Where only a half hour past I had felt invisible, now I caught furtive glances from the downcast faces of those cleaning the streets and from those carrying parcels behind the brightly clad ladies. A great and entirely unwanted burden descended on my shoulders. They were expecting me to help them.

“My lady?” Albert had stopped eating and was watching me with the first bit of interest he’d shown all day. I realized I was standing in the middle of the intersection, forcing traffic to go around me.

“One moment,” I whispered. Closing my eyes, I turned slowly like a compass searching for north. When I opened them, I was staring across the river valley. A tall figure dressed in black stood staring back across at me, hand resting on his sword hilt. There was nothing that greatly distinguished him from all the rest, but I knew instinctively it was Tristan.

“élise?” My voice sounded hoarse.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Who… owns you?”

A long pause. “His Highness does.” Her fingers plucked at the black and white sash at her waist, and for the first time, I noticed the letters embroidered on it: TdM. She was monogrammed just like Tristan’s shirts. A possession.

“And Zoé too?” I asked.

“Yes. The Montigny family owns three hundred and twenty-one individuals, at present.”

“At present,” I repeated. A steady pounding grew in my ears, and my fingers twitched with the urge to lash out, at anything or anyone. “Does that figure include me?”

élise’s hand flew to her chest. “No,” she stammered. “Of course not!”

“Spare me the lies!” I hissed, my grip tightening around the stem of my wineglass. Whirling around, I opened my mouth to scream my hatred across the valley. Tristan was gone. My head jerked back and forth spasmodically as I searched the opposite shore for his tall form, but he had blended into the crowd.