Stolen Songbird(54)

“It’s treason.” Worse than treason, what he was contemplating was patricide. The murder of his own father.

“Yes.”

“What about your mother? If you kill your father, won’t she die too?” I thought about it for a minute. “And your aunt?”

Tristan looked sick and felt worse. “It’s a possibility, but my aunt believes she can keep my mother alive.”

“She knows then? What about your mother?”

He gave a slight nod. “Only my aunt – it is easy enough to muffle our conversations with magic. My mother isn’t the suspicious sort.” He rolled his shoulders, the movement reflecting his discomfort. “It was my aunt’s plan from the beginning. She despises him and how he rules Trollus.”

There had to be more to it than that. “Why?”

“She had a… a friend. He was a half-blood and they were very close.” Tristan grimaced in discomfort. “Because of the conjoined nature of my mother and aunt, my father has a tendency to consider them both his. When he found out about my aunt’s… friendship, he had the man flayed in public. Twice.” He closed his eyes. “Even a half-blood can survive a great deal of torture. I believe the executioner deliberately sliced the artery in the man’s leg for fear that if he survived, my father would order him flayed a third time. And a fourth.”

My knees wobbled at thought of enduring so much torture – if there was a downside to the troll’s near-invincibility, this was surely it.

Tristan continued. “He’s never ordered the execution of a full-blooded troll – there are too few of us left – but he orders the deaths of half-bloods for the slightest offence. And they are never clean deaths.”

Gruesome, horrible deeds, but such is the nature of kings – human or troll. I could understand the Duchesse wanting to see him dead because of what had been done to her friend, but what had pushed Tristan over the edge so that he would consider killing his own father?

As though anticipating the question, Tristan said, “I had a human friend, once. He was old and wore funny clothes. He always brought me candy and told me stories. He never treated me like I was a prince or even like I was a troll – he treated me like I was just a boy. My father killed him to punish me.” He lowered his head. “I couldn’t do anything to stop him. I was young and helpless against him. But I’m not anymore.”

Closing my eyes, I shuffled through his emotions. Fear. Shame. Doubt. And how did I feel about becoming an accomplice in a murder plot? I hated his father – he’d arranged for my kidnapping, ruined my life. To him, I was a tool here to serve a purpose, and ultimately, disposable. But could I stand by and see a man killed? I didn’t need to think long or hard. In this case, not only would I willingly stand by, I’d stick the knife in myself. If that made me a bad person, then so be it. But even with the King dead, one fundamental problem remained.

“The sympathizers,” I said. “They don’t just want to be rid of your father – they want to be rid of all the troll nobility so that there’s no one powerful enough left to lord over them. What’s to stop them from killing all your friends, all your family, other than the fact they need you to keep Forsaken Mountain off their heads?” Then the realization dawned on me: he was waiting until he was in power before breaking the curse. Not only would he be king, he’d be a hero to his people. I opened my mouth to say as much, but then snapped it shut again. Withholding freedom from a city full of people was certainly a dangerous secret, but knowing he was doing so did nothing to explain the purpose of his diagrams. “Well?” I finally asked.

He took a deep breath. “Are we in agreement then? You will tell me the location of all my papers in exchange for me explaining their contents?”

“Yes,” I said. What could be more important than the knowledge he was purposefully keeping the curse in place? “I agree.”

“You must understand: Marc, Ana?s, and the twins are the only ones who know. And I only trust them because I have their true…” He broke off. “Why I trust them is irrelevant. My point is, I have no such assurance from you.”

I said nothing. Telling him he could trust me wouldn’t make a difference. I could lie.

Tristan took a deep breath. “The documents contain the plans for building a structure that would support the rock.”

“No magic required,” I whispered.

“Not after I finish building it.”