Stolen Songbird (The Malediction Trilogy, #1)(54)

“Cécile, stop!”

Magic lashed around my waist, jerking me back, and Marc stepped between the troll and me.

“Your Grace,” he said. “I don’t believe you have met Her Highness. May I introduce Her Royal Highness, Cécile de Montigny.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Your Highness, the Lady Damia, Dowager Duchesse d’Angoulême.”

I blinked. The troll was Angoulême’s mother. “Your Grace,” I muttered, and reluctantly curtseyed. This was not a random meeting, I was sure of it.

The woman snorted. “It is a bit late for courtesies, girl.” Grabbing hold of her servant’s hair, she dragged the half-blood away from us.

Marc held up a warning hand to keep me from going after them, but it was unnecessary. I knew the troll was trying to provoke me, but it was still infuriating to stand by and watch her treat the half-blood woman so. There had to be something I could do. I couldn’t just walk away.

“My Lord Comte.” The sound of Damia’s voice jerked me to attention. I could feel tension radiating from Marc as he acknowledged the other troll. “Yes, Your Grace?”

Damia’s eyes glittered. “Make arrangements to have the labyrinth opened this evening. This one’s actions merit disposal.” She jerked her chin towards the half-blood cowering at her feet. “I do not care to have my household’s reputation tarnished by such behavior.”

Marc’s hands tightened into fists. “Surely such an extreme reaction is not warranted.”

“I did not ask for your opinion,” she snapped. “She is my property, and I can do with her as I wish.”

The twins came up on either side of me, but I scarcely noticed. I felt the blood drain from my face and my hands turn cold. How far was she willing to take this? Would she really send her servant into the labyrinth to die just to elicit a reaction from me? Because I was positive now that that was exactly what she was trying to do. She was baiting me in an attempt to get at Tristan. If I went to him appealing for help in saving the half-blood, it would not only undercut the carefully crafted ruse defining our relationship, it would also put him in the position of having to choose between sacrificing the servant’s life or revealing his true sentiments towards half-bloods.

“If you are so eager to get rid of her, I’ll take her off your hands,” Victoria suddenly said. “Five hundred is fair, I think.”

“She isn’t for sale,” Angoulême’s mother snapped.

“A thousand, then.”

“No.”

“If you value her so much, I fail to see why you want to see her killed,” Vincent said, closing a hand over my shoulder. He was warning me not to take the bait, but what would be the consequences of me walking away? Could I stomach the guilt of letting the half-blood go to her death? But what could I possibly do to stop it? The law was clear – the servant was her property to do with as she willed. Only a royal decree from either Tristan or the King could stop her from sending the half-blood to her death. I did not see the King being forthcoming in that regard and asking Tristan would feel like I was passing the problem to him. I had to think of another way.

“Ten thousand.”

Damia shot the twins a look of distain. “She is not for sale to you two for any price. You hardly need another in that menagerie you call a household.”

“Sell her to me,” I blurted out. She could refuse the others – she outranked them. But she did not outrank me.

A slow smile made its way onto the woman’s face. “With what coin?”

I glared at her. “I am hardly destitute.”

Her smile broadened. “That may be so, but it would still be Montigny gold doing the purchasing, and I’m afraid that would be breaking the law.”

“How so?” I demanded.

The troll chuckled. “This one,” she gestured towards the cowering servant, “is a Montigny bastard. And the law forbids the purchase of one’s own blood.” She laughed again.

I clenched my jaw, wondering how much thought and preparation had gone into this moment. The law stood in my way at every turn, driving me towards only one possible option: asking Tristan to save the servant. I gritted my teeth, my mind searching desperately for a solution. And I found one.

Forcing a dejected expression onto my face, I stepped backwards. “I’m afraid there is nothing I can do. Neither His Majesty or my husband are likely to take my side in this.” I glanced at Marc. “Make her arrangements.”

Silence greeted my words, surprise written across all their faces. None of them had expected me to let this go.

“Mercy, Highness, mercy!” the servant shrieked, throwing herself at me and clutching my skirts. “Don’t let her kill me,” she pleaded, the fabric of my dress tearing beneath her grip.

“I’m sorry.” I let my lip tremble and tears rise in my eyes. “The law is the law.” I stumbled back and my dress tore.

“Lessa, you fool!” shouted Damia. “Must you give me more reason to rid myself of you?”

Magic slapped against the half-blood over and over again in a sickening rhythm.

“Stop!” I screamed, but Damia only shot me a dark smile, baiting me to take the step that would end this violence. She thought me a fool – thought she could use the laws against me. But two could play at that game – and there was one law in particular that I knew would work in my favor. Bracing myself, I leapt between the two women, the sound of the magic lash falling loud in my ears.