Stolen Songbird(94)

I sat down on the cold stone floor, placing my light carefully on my lap, and I listened. To my mind, to my heart – call it what you will. I listened to Tristan’s emotions and tried to understand what he intended.

Desperation.

He had not, as I thought he would, instantly rounded up guards to track me down. The sharp pain I had felt under my ribs returned and I drew my knees up to my chest to try to ward it off. Tristan wasn’t coming. Disappointment chased away hope, and I forced myself to acknowledge the fact that I had hoped he would come after me. False hopes. Why shouldn’t he abandon me to the labyrinth? Whether I escaped or died trying, the result was the same – he would be free of me, the repulsive human. He’d be free to be with Ana?s. Able to claim that his aunt’s prophesy was nothing but ramblings and not worth taking seriously.

Fear.

That was there too, but of course it would be. His father would be angry that Tristan had allowed me to escape unbound by the oaths that kept Trollus secret from the outside world. But even the King’s anger would fade when they realized there would be no retribution from me. I just wanted to forget ever being here. I wanted to leave and let time wipe away the memory of Trollus and its people, and most of all, of Tristan.

Misery.

This was nothing new.

“I don’t care,” I whispered. “I refuse to care any longer.”

Sticking the leather handle of my light between my teeth, I got down on my belly and crawled into the tunnel.





CHAPTER 24





TRISTAN





“How?” Marc demanded. “It’s locked, and I have the only key.”



“She can pick locks,” I said, remembering our encounter in the corridor the night we were bonded.

“We need to go after her.” Marc turned to run, but I grabbed his arm, yanking him back. That had been my first instinct too, but was it the correct one?

“Wait.”

Marc swore. “What do you mean, wait? If we go now, we’ll catch her before anyone notices she’s gone.” His eyes widened as he realized what I was thinking. “You can’t seriously be considering letting her make the attempt? She’s unarmed and wearing a bloody gown and heels. She’ll fall and break her neck.”

I flinched, but kept my voice steady. “She’s wearing boots and she isn’t a silly parlor maid – she’s strong and clever. She can do this.”

Marc shoved me against a wall. “Have you lost your bloody mind? The labyrinth is deadly, even for one of us, and she’s just a girl.”

“No more deadly than it will be for her here.” I closed my eyes and listened, Cécile’s fear making my hands grow cold. Every inch of me yearned to go after her, to bring her back, keep her safe, and yet… “This is her chance, Marc. Her one chance to escape Trollus, and to escape me. If I stop her, she’ll only hate me for it.”

“Are you sure?”

I wasn’t sure. Indecision racked me to the core, but there were no good options. If I interfered with her escape, not only would she hate me for it, I was certain Angoulême would make an attempt on her life. If I let her continue into the labyrinth, I risked her being killed by any number of things. But if she escaped, she’d be safe. Grinding my teeth, I forced myself to sit down on the ground and remain still. There was no good choice, because no matter the outcome, one thing was certain: I was going to lose her.





CHAPTER 25





CéCILE





With no fear of imminent pursuit, I was able to move at a slower, and safer, pace. The stones scraped my hands and I felt bruises rising on my knees, but still I pressed forward. Though Tristan had not raised the alarm at my absence, it was inevitable élise or Zoé would notice. And I had a long way to travel. The trolls could still catch me if I wasn’t careful.



Reaching an intersection of rock, I scrambled my way up to consult the list of markers. Water ran across the etchings, and many were nearly washed away, but the one I had been following remained clear enough. Sitting on my heels, I gripped my light tightly and slid down the wet rock, landing with a splash in a pool of water that came nearly to my waist. This was new.

Cursing, I bent my head beneath the low ceiling and waded forward. The water grew deeper until it brushed my chin. I had never considered not being able to maintain my route. I was a fool for it – Marc had told me the labyrinth was always changing. I swam forward, my light unaffected by immersion in the water, and it was then I saw the source of the flooded passage. The way ahead was filled with rock. Cave-in.