Stolen Songbird (The Malediction Trilogy, #1)(33)

“God in heaven,” I whispered.

“I cannot say whether your God exists or not, Cécile, but if he does, he has turned his back on this place. Darker powers rule Trollus.” He stared at the water rushing through the rock. “To be bound is a burden, but it is the actions we freely take that cause us the most pain.” He said the last nearly under his breath, but it was impossible to miss the sudden jolt of anguish.

My eyes widened and I shuddered. If what Tristan was saying was true, Chris had broken two rules, both of them unwittingly and both because of me. Almost as though he could read my mind, Tristan said, “What happened today was your doing, Cécile. If you value the lives of your fellow humans, I suggest you don’t let it happen again.”

Abruptly, he let go of me and walked down the street. He paused in front of Albert and Guillaume. “I know what you did to her today.” His voice was monotone and steady, making his words far more ominous than if he had shouted. “It was ill-considered.”

The two guards exchanged uneasy looks.

“She is bound to me,” Tristan continued. “Which means that what she feels, I feel.” His fingers rested on the hilt of his sword. “When you hurt her, you hurt me. Why the hell else do you think my father passed a law against harming her?”

The two trolls fell to their knees. “We did not think, my lord.”

“No,” Tristan said. “But then, you rarely do.” He looked over his shoulder. “élise, take her back to the palace and keep her there for the rest of the day. I don’t want any more incidents.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” élise curtsied.

“And élise,” he added. “When lifting something heavy, with magic or otherwise, it is best to ensure one has good footing. Nevertheless, it was well done.”

A gold coin flipped through the air, and she snagged it with one hand and took hold of my arm with the other. “Come with me.”


“What is he going to do to them?” I asked once we were out of earshot.

“Nothing they don’t deserve.”

“I hate him,” I said, my voice sounding hollow and distant in my ears. “He’s evil and wicked, just like his father.”

élise leaned closer to me, close enough that I could feel her breath on my ear. “If that were true, your friend would be dead.”

Everything snapped back into focus.

Taking my arm, élise pulled me along with more strength than someone her size should possess. “We need to go back to the palace.”

I went with her, but her comment unnerved me. Only moments ago, I was certain that how I’d seen Tristan behave was proof of what Esmeralda had told me about the troll nobility – that he was human-hating and evil. Now I wasn’t so sure. He’d shown no regard for Chris’ life, but élise was correct – Chris was still alive. Alive, even though he’d broken rules that carried a death sentence.

And then there were Jér?me’s actions to consider. I tried to focus and replay the events in my mind, but everything had happened so quickly. Jér?me had looked afraid, but not as panicked as a father about to lose his son should be. It was obvious Albert was the one smothering Chris, but Jér?me’s eyes had been fixed on Tristan. Why? Was it merely because he knew enough about the trolls to know that Tristan had the power to pass sentence, or was it because he knew that Tristan would save his son?

Actions speak louder than words.

A common enough saying, to be sure, but what had Jér?me meant by it? Had he meant that Tristan’s sparing Chris’ life meant more than the human-hating drivel that he had been spouting? But Tristan was a troll – he had to tell the truth, so I couldn’t discount his words. He had to mean what he said, didn’t he? Otherwise, wasn’t he telling a lie?





I spent the rest of the afternoon alone in Tristan’s rooms with élise’s fading light, which gave me time to think and, more importantly, time to snoop. I was looking for something that would give me some insight into the Prince’s mind, whatever that might be. There was something about him that didn’t add up. My hands hesitated on the stack of old invitations through which I was rifling as I tried to recollect his precise words.



“You all know my feelings about humanity…”

Or at least thought they knew. His words were hardly a declaration – merely an affirmation of everyone’s conceptions about him. Or misconceptions?

“You’re grasping, Cécile,” I muttered. I set the stack of cards back where I’d found them and pushed the drawer closed. It jammed. “Darn it!” I pulled the drawer back open and bent down to see what had caught. It was another card. Careful not to tear it, I extracted the thick red paper and skimmed the black cursive script. It was an invitation to the eighth birthday of His Royal Highness, Prince Roland de Montigny. Tristan had a younger brother.

“Looking for something?”

Jerking upright, I unsuccessfully tried to wipe the guilty expression from my face. Zoé stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. “You didn’t eat your dinner.”

My eyes flickered to the untouched tray sitting on the table. “I wasn’t hungry.”

“He won’t appreciate you rooting about in his things. His Highness is very private.”