Stolen Songbird(65)

Her smile broadened. “That may be so, but it would still be Montigny gold doing the purchasing, and I’m afraid that would be breaking the law.”

“How so?” I demanded.

The troll chuckled. “This one,” she gestured towards the cowering servant, “is a Montigny bastard. And the law forbids the purchase of one’s own blood.” She laughed again.

I clenched my jaw, wondering how much thought and preparation had gone into this moment. The law stood in my way at every turn, driving me towards only one possible option: asking Tristan to save the servant. I gritted my teeth, my mind searching desperately for a solution. And I found one.

Forcing a dejected expression onto my face, I stepped backwards. “I’m afraid there is nothing I can do. Neither His Majesty or my husband are likely to take my side in this.” I glanced at Marc. “Make her arrangements.”

Silence greeted my words, surprise written across all their faces. None of them had expected me to let this go.

“Mercy, Highness, mercy!” the servant shrieked, throwing herself at me and clutching my skirts. “Don’t let her kill me,” she pleaded, the fabric of my dress tearing beneath her grip.

“I’m sorry.” I let my lip tremble and tears rise in my eyes. “The law is the law.” I stumbled back and my dress tore.

“Lessa, you fool!” shouted Damia. “Must you give me more reason to rid myself of you?”

Magic slapped against the half-blood over and over again in a sickening rhythm.

“Stop!” I screamed, but Damia only shot me a dark smile, baiting me to take the step that would end this violence. She thought me a fool – thought she could use the laws against me. But two could play at that game – and there was one law in particular that I knew would work in my favor. Bracing myself, I leapt between the two women, the sound of the magic lash falling loud in my ears.





CHAPTER 17





TRISTAN





The sharp stab of pain made me jump in surprise, the motion noticeable enough that my father looked up from the reports the Miners’ Guild had delivered that morning. “What?” he demanded, fixing me with a piercing stare. “Cécile?”



I gave a slight nod, and rose to my feet. Judging from Cécile’s mood, the injury did not seem grievous, but I wanted to go make sure. “By your leave…” I started to say, when the door swung in, interrupting me.

“Your Majesty. Your Highness.” The troll bowed low, and I recognized him as one of my father’s men.

My father grunted and leaned forward on his desk, fingers interlocked in front of him. “What has she done this time?”

The troll cleared his throat. “The lady Cécile is currently quarreling with Dowager Duchesse d’Angoulême, Your Grace.”

Rubbing one eye, my father glanced my direction. “That’s new. I thought she only quarreled with you.”

I shrugged. “We are all wrong from time to time, Father. Even you.” Looking to the messenger, I asked, “What was the nature of the argument; and importantly, who instigated it?”

“It was regarding Her Grace’s abuse of a servant, my lord. And it is a matter of opinion as to who instigated the confrontation.”

My father leaned back in his chair. “Explain.”

By the time the messenger finished his tale of the events with “…and the Dowager Duchesse requested the Comte open the labyrinth so she could dispose of the servant,” sweat was trickling down my spine. It was made all the worse by the knowledge that Cécile was coming in our direction. Which meant she intended to ask me to thwart the blasted old woman’s plans to dispose of her servant, no doubt entirely unaware that she had been set up. And by falling for the ploy, had set me up.

“Cécile is coming this way,” I said abruptly. There was no point in hiding the knowledge.

My father shook his head wryly. “If she intends to ask me to make an exception, she will be sorely disappointed. I don’t make laws for the purposes of breaking them at the whim of a human girl.” He turned in his chair to look at me. “Unless, perhaps, you are feeling benevolent today.”

I kept my face still. “I don’t make a practice of countering your decrees unnecessarily.” Picking up my glass of water, I stared into its depths and contemplated how best this situation might be resolved. “Did you happen to notice,” I said to the messenger, “the identity of the servant in question?”