Stolen Songbird (The Malediction Trilogy, #1)(38)

Walking to the front of the room, I silently regarded my followers. I would be their champion, lead the revolution to tear down the autocracy that valued only power and bloodlines, even if it meant starting a war against my father. I would risk my own life and those of my friends to accomplish these goals, but there was one thing I’d never do: break the curse.

Some creatures were best kept in their cages.





CHAPTER 13





CéCILE





I hadn’t heard Tristan come in during the night, but when I awoke the following morning, there was something sitting on the pillows next to me. At one end was a clear glass ball that was attached to a pommel-like handle wrapped with soft white leather. The handle had a thin leather wrist-strap hanging from the end of it. Next to it was a short note written in the flowing script I recognized as Tristan’s.



You looked ridiculous walking around the city carrying an empty wineglass. I don’t care to be associated with a drunk. Particularly one who damages glassware. Touch the diamond with your finger to turn it on.

TdM

Examining the item more closely, I saw that there was a formidable diamond embedded in the handle. Tapping it with my finger, I smiled in delight as the bulb at the end lit up. Tapping the diamond again extinguished it. “Clever, clever,” I whispered, climbing out of bed and dragging the covers with me.

The door flung open. “Good morning, Cécile!” The Queen smiled at me, but as usual, it was the Duchesse who had spoken.

Even though my ankles were tangled in the pile of linens, I managed a passable curtsey, wondering if they intended to intrude on me every morning. “Your Majesty. Your Grace.”

“Where is Tristan?” The tiny troll demanded. “Matilde, turn around so that I can see.”

“He isn’t here,” I said. “But he was here,” I added when she frowned. “Briefly.” It wasn’t entirely a lie – he must have come in at some point to leave the light.

“Briefly.” The Duchesse’s eyebrow rose.

“He gave me this,” I said, hoping to forestall any other questions.

The Duchesse examined the light stick and then read the note. “Ha ha!” she cackled.

“What is it! Let me see! Is it a love note?” the Queen demanded, reaching over her shoulder.

“I suppose some people might call it a love note.” The Duchess winked at me.

Tristan’s mother read the note and sighed. “Oh dear. It isn’t very good, is it?”

“It’s his first time, Matilde,” the Duchesse replied. “I’m sure he’ll improve with practice.”

I stifled a laugh at the thought of His Royal Highness putting any effort into love notes. Especially ones addressed to me.

The Duchesse clapped her hands together. “Now let us get down to business. Yesterday was a disaster, to say the least. I don’t want anything similar to occur at the party this evening.” She gestured for me to come closer. “How much longer do you suppose it will take your face to heal?”

I glanced at the mirror across the room, my black eye prominent even in the dim light. “Another week,” I ventured. My gran had the knack for herbs and healing, and she’d taught a lot of it to my sister, but I’d never paid much attention. I hadn’t needed to.

“Mercy!” The Duchesse shouted the word, making me jump. “So long? It amazes me you survive a trip to the privy, you humans are so fragile. élise!” she hollered, rather unnecessarily, given the girl was already in the room.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Is your aunt in the city?”

I saw the nearly imperceptible tightening around élise’s eyes at the mention of Esmeralda. “She is, Your Grace.”

“Go see if she has anything that might speed up the girl’s healing. I’m tired of her looking like one of those dreadful drawings my eight year-old nephew is always sending to me.”

“He uses a lot of color, I take it,” I said, examining the virulent bruises on my arms.

“He uses a lot of gore,” the Duchesse corrected. “Now tell me, do you know how to dance?”





It turned out that I did not know how to dance, at least not by troll standards, and my aching toes did not let me forget it as I stood in the ballroom of Marc’s manor, watching trolls glide across the floor.



Esmeralda had been all too truthful in her description of them. Seen like this, en masse, with only me and a handful of half-blood servants to color the mix with human blood, it was like watching a circus freak show while being locked in a madhouse. At least half of them were marked with physical deformities or were clearly not sound of mind, but power crawled through the room, making it hot. I watched them with wide eyes, half afraid and half entranced by the bizarre display.

A prickle ran down my spine.

“They are all here,” said a deep voice. “Even now, none of them dare test the limits of my power.”

I stiffened before dropping into a curtsey. “Your Majesty.” The King stood beside me, arms crossed, though how he had gotten his bulk there without me noticing was a mystery.

“They are all here to prove their support for our continued reign, but my son, my heir, is notably absent.”