Stolen Songbird (The Malediction Trilogy, #1)(53)

“Drat,” Victoria muttered, exchanging a worried look with her brother. “It’s her again.”

“Who is she?” I asked.

“A sculptor we commissioned a while back.”

The woman slid to a stop in front of us, bobbed a quick curtsey at Marc and me, then turned a chastising finger on the twins. “When are you going to arrange to pick up your sculptures? And more importantly, when do you intend to pay for them?”

“Done so soon?” Vincent asked, stepping between the sculptor and his sister. “Are you certain they are properly finished?”

The woman glared at them. “You question me?”

Vincent shook his head rapidly. “No, no. Are they very large, then?”

“You ordered life size!” she shouted at them. “You two are large, thus are the sculptures.”

Victoria flinched, and looked at her feet. I had always thought she appreciated her size because of the advantages it gave her in fighting. But perhaps I was wrong.

“That is true,” Vincent said glumly. “I had thought it might take you longer to finish them.”

“Lady Ana?s insisted the work be my first priority.” The troll placed hands on her hips and scowled.

“She would,” Vincent muttered. Victoria tucked a lock of hair that had come loose from her braid back behind her ear.

“This might take a while,” Marc whispered in my ear. “Let’s go.”

I was reluctant to leave my friends in the company of the sculptor, but Victoria gave a faint nod indicating I should leave.

“What was that all about?” I asked, watching the exchange over my shoulder as I walked.

“They lost a bet to Ana?s,” Marc said. “So they had to order life-sized sculptures that were to be placed in front of their house for no less than one month.”

“That isn’t so bad,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Nude sculptures,” Marc added, his brows coming together in a frown. “She was being cruel – she knows that Victoria is… shy.”

I scowled. “Why is she so blasted nasty all the time – Victoria is her friend. Friends don’t do that to each other.”

“They shouldn’t,” Marc agreed. “But, I suspect Ana?s is angry at Victoria for how much time she spends with you.”

“Maybe if she was more pleasant, Victoria would enjoy her company more,” I snapped.

Marc sighed. “Ana?s is very unhappy, Cécile. And you don’t know her well enough to judge her.”

I know enough, I thought angrily, but I kept my mouth shut. Next time I talked to Victoria, I would suggest she dress her statue in clothes and let Ana?s try that on for size.

We entered a square dominated by a fountain with a giant winged serpent spouting water from its mouth, its emerald eyes gleaming malevolently. On the far side of the square, two trolls were shouting at each other. One shoved the other, and the argument quickly turned to blows.

Marc sighed. “Wait here a moment.”

I watched as he strode over to the fighting men. Raising one hand, invisible magic jerked the two apart, leaving them to dangle in the air while he questioned them on their grievance.

I went over to the fountain to examine the serpent more closely. It had been carved in great detail, from its overlapping scales to its sharp golden-tipped claws. The plaque on the base read The Dragon Called Melusina. “A dragon,” I muttered, eyeing up the creature, wondering if such creatures existed somewhere, or if they were merely a figment of some sculptor’s imagination.

Turning my back on the dragon, I leaned against the fountain, nodding at the trolls who offered bows and curtseys with their greetings as they passed. The sight of an older, but statuesque, woman walking across the square caught my attention. She was dressed all in black, which was unusual, and though I didn’t recognize her, I marked her easily as an aristocrat. Her gown was elaborate, the taffeta rustling across the cobbles, and she wore a wealth of jewels that glittered in the lamplight. But what made me certain was the air of authority in her walk, and the way all the other trolls made way for her as she passed. A slender servant woman walked a few steps behind her, head downcast and arms loaded with packages.

Straightening, I prepared myself to receive and deliver the expected courtesies, but the troll only glanced my direction and kept walking. Her servant shot me a wide-eyed look of dismay and dropped into sort of an awkward moving curtsey. “Your Highness,” she whispered, looking back over her shoulder.

I opened my mouth to warn her, but I was too late. The servant woman collided with her mistress and the packages in her arms dropped to the ground with the distinct sound of breaking glass. I winced.

“You idiot!” shrieked the troll. She rounded on the servant, and I watched in horror as magical blows fell across the woman’s face, blood splattering against the pale grey paving stones.

“I’m sorry, mistress,” the servant begged, cringing against the blows as they fell. Wounds opened and closed on her face, the red gore dripping onto her dress the only permanent mark.

“Stop,” I said, but the troll didn’t hear me. “Stop!” I shouted louder. She glanced my direction, but ignored the command.

In two strides, I was next to her. “I order you to stop this abuse immediately.”

The troll turned her head to look at me, eyes dark and menacing. “You have no right.” She raised her hand to strike another blow, and I moved without thinking. Reaching out both hands, I shoved the troll woman hard.