Stolen Songbird (The Malediction Trilogy, #1)(100)

“The likes of me?” I heard Chris come up behind me, and I turned, slamming a hand against his chest to keep him from coming any closer. “Let it go, Chris,” I warned, but he paid no more attention to me than Tristan had.

“The likes of me is the same as the likes of your wife,” Chris snapped. “I’ve known her all her life. I know her father and her grandmother. I’m friends with her brother. I’ve danced with her at festivals and walked her home from her lessons in town. We’re the same people.”

“She is nothing like you,” Tristan sneered, his tone making me flinch. It made him sound like his father. “She is my wife. She is Princess of Trollus, and you are not fit company for her.”

“She’s your prisoner.”

Tristan showed no visible reaction, but I felt Chris’s words strike him to the core.

I turned, pressing my back against Tristan and pulling his arm around me. “That isn’t true Chris. I told you – I’m here because I want to be.”

“That true, my lord? Does she have the choice to leave if she wanted to? Has she ever had the choice?”

Tristan was silent. I could hear his heart beating furiously where my head rested against his chest.

“Just as I thought.” Chris’s face was dark with anger. “You stole her from her kin and now she’s your prisoner. She might say she loves you, but I don’t believe it for a minute. You’ve either put some magic on her mind or she’s just saying it because it’s what you want to hear!”

“That isn’t true!” I shouted. “You shut your mouth, Christophe!” I looked up at Tristan. “It isn’t true. You know I love you.” He refused to meet my eyes, but his grip around my waist increased, drawing me tight against him.

“We have no such magic.” His sword slithered as he pulled it out of its scabbard. “I could have your head for this, boy. Or perhaps cut you open and leave you on the street to die, slowly. I could kill your father for bringing such an insolent brat into my presence.” His grip on my side was becoming painful, his fingers grinding the bones of my corset against my ribs.

I closed my eyes, fear building in my gut. This wasn’t Tristan I was hearing. It was his father’s voice, and the voices of all those horrible selfish kings before him. The voice of a troll.

“No,” I whispered. “Please, don’t.”

“Aye, you could,” Chris said, and I saw the first traces of fear on his face. Then he looked at me, “Seems to me he’s just like all the rest of them, Cécile.”

“You have no right to use her name,” Tristan snapped, and I gasped against the pain in my side.

“You’re hurting her!” Chris shouted.

Everything happened too quickly. Chris swung his fist at Tristan’s face, but it bounced off a shield of magic. Tristan pushed me out of the way, and my feet tangled in my skirts as I fell in a heap. Neither of them noticed.

“Can’t even fight like a real man!” Chris shouted. “Always hiding behind your magic.”

“Hardly,” Tristan replied. Then he punched Chris in the face. Chris staggered, and then with a shout, leapt forward, knocking Tristan backwards. They grappled on the ground, both of them landing heavy blows and neither of them paying any attention to my pleas for them to stop. Chris was older and his body was heavy from muscle that only hard labor could bring. But his was human strength. It was only a few moments until Tristan had him pinned, fingers latched tight around Chris’s throat.

“You’re killing him,” I shrieked, pulling at his wrists, trying to make him let go. “Tristan, stop this! Please!” I pounded my fists against his shoulders, dug my nails into his arms, but it was as if I were invisible. Chris’s face turned purple and his attempts to dislodge Tristan’s hands grew as weak and ineffective as my own. “Please stop!” I begged, but he wasn’t listening to me. So I screamed, my voice echoing through Trollus.

Boots pounded towards us and several trolls, including my mysteriously absent guards, appeared. Chris’s father was with them. “Stop them!” I shouted.

Jér?me tried to run forward, but one of the trolls snatched him off his feet. He dangled helplessly in the air, terrified eyes on his dying son. “Help him,” I screamed.

The trolls exchanged amused glances with each other and one of them shook his head at me. They wouldn’t help. If their prince wanted to strangle a human boy, why should they stop him?

I grabbed hold of Tristan’s shoulders again and pulled with all my strength, but it wasn’t enough. Chris was going to die, and I was powerless. Dropping to my knees, I pressed my lips to Tristan’s ear. “I will not forgive you if you do this. I will never forgive you if you kill him.”

I felt realization click in his mind, rage fleeing in the face of horror and guilt. His hands jerked away from Chris’s neck and he stared at them as if amazed at what they’d been doing. Then he rose smoothly to his feet.

Chris rolled on his side, gasping for breath, redness receding from his face. “Are you all right?” I asked, touching his shoulder. He jerked away as if I’d burned him.

“So strong,” he rasped out. “How can anyone be that strong?”

“They all are, you idiot,” I whispered.

His eyes flickered up, looking over my shoulder at Tristan like a sheep watching a wolf. “Then the witch was right to lock them down here – nothing could ever stop them.”