Stolen Songbird (The Malediction Trilogy, #1)(123)

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I can’t remember.”

The woman at his side laughed, her voice cruel. “Come to beg a favor, but forgot what it is?”

The creatures in the meadow echoed her laughter. The golden man did not. “Is it a favor when our purposes are aligned, wife?” he asked softly.

“Yes.” I cringed at the harshness of her voice. “A favor given is a favor owed.”

“But I don’t even know what I need,” I said.

The man smiled and I fell to my knees at his feet. “What you seek is the name of that which you most desire.” He tilted his head in a way that was oddly familiar to me. “If you choose to use it, then you will be in my debt.” He bent down, the warmth of his breath like a summer wind against my cheek, and he whispered a single word in my ear.

“Cécile, wake up!”

Tristan was leaning over me, his eyes wide and wild.

“We’re here.”

I blinked at him. “I was dreaming. Of a place of endless summer…” I trailed off, taking in our surroundings through bleary eyes. It was the entrance to the labyrinth that Luc had brought me through what seemed a lifetime ago. Water lapped against the rocks, but it was much lower than before, the heat of summer drying up the pond, making the cavern seem huge. Tristan sat at the edge with me cradled in his lap, my little light following his larger one around the rocky ceiling like a lost puppy.

“What are we waiting for?” I asked.

“Dawn,” he replied. “Look.”

Faint light was glowing in the water, growing in strength with each passing moment. The lip of the cave wall was only barely submerged. I could see that now. During times of drought, it might even be possible to enter the cave without getting one’s feet wet. I thought I could hear the sound of voices; the loud whinny of a horse.

“Is it time, then?”

“Yes.” But he didn’t move, only held me tighter, his face buried in my hair.

“Tristan?”

He turned his face to me, and it was streaked with tears. I wanted to wipe them away, tell him that everything would be all right, but my body was locked stiff with pain.

“Promise me you’ll get better,” he whispered. “Tell me you’ll grow strong again. That you’ll gallop on horseback through summer meadows. Dance in spring rains and let snowflakes melt on your tongue in winter. That you’ll travel wherever the wind takes you. That you’ll live.” He stroked my hair. “Promise me.”

Confusion crept over me. “You’ll be with me, though. You’ll do those things too?”

He kissed my lips, silencing my questions. “Promise me.”

“No,” I said, struggling against him. “No, you said you were coming with me. You said. You promised.” He had to be coming with me – he said he was, and Tristan couldn’t lie. Wouldn’t lie.

He got to his feet and stepped into the water. I tried to struggle, but he was too strong. “Tristan, no, no, no!” I tried to scream, but I couldn’t. I tried to hold on to him, but my fingers wouldn’t work. The cold of the water bit into my skin and I sobbed, terrified. “You said you would never leave me!”

He stopped, the weight of his sorrow greater than any mountain. “And if I had the choice, I never would. I love you, Cécile. I will love you until the day I take my last breath and that is the truth.” He kissed me hard. “Forgive me.”


Tristan shoved me under the water. I came up on the other side, gasping for breath, sunlight stinging my eyes. The weight of my skirts pulled me towards the bottom and I didn’t fight it. I drifted down, my eyes searching for the opening, for the way back, but there was only rock. I pounded my fist against the illusion, but it would not yield. I let my body go limp, let it sink until my feet brushed the bottom. He could see me – would know what I was trying to do. He’d have to drop the illusion of rock and let me come back or watch me drown.

Then an arm closed under my arms, pulled me upward. My head broke the surface and I choked on water and blood.

“I’ve got her!” It was Christophe’s voice.

“No!” I coughed. “I have to go back, I have to go back.” But my words were silent. I couldn’t breathe.

“It’s all right, Cécile.” He was pulling me to shore, away from Tristan. I felt more hands grab hold of me, lifting me out of the water. I heard Jér?me’s voice. He was trying to soothe me, but the words meant nothing. I had to go back. Tristan was trapped. He was in danger. Once someone washed the blood off the King, his power would return and Tristan would be at his mercy. I had to go back.

“Tristan.” My lips formed his name and I reached out towards the rocks. I could feel him there, waiting.

“We need to get her home,” Chris said. “She hasn’t got much time.”

Hands lifted me into the air, the sound of a horse whickering beneath me faint in my ears. Then I was moving, faster and further away.





CHAPTER 38





CéCILE





Burning light pierced through my eyelids, and I groaned, turning my face to the side. Rough homespun sheets rasped against my cheek, and the smell of smoke assaulted my nostrils. “Something’s burning.” My voice sounded slurred, even to my own ears.