Stolen Songbird (The Malediction Trilogy, #1)(66)

Martin sighed. “No one has been able to open it. I thought perhaps because you are human it might…” He sighed again.

“Perhaps one needs to be a witch,” I said. “And do I look like a witch to you?”

Martin laughed nervously.

“Do you know where she is now?” I asked.

“No one knows, my lady.”

“She could be anywhere, then. Pretending to be anybody?”

“Don’t ask him to speculate, Cécile. Martin only deals in facts.”

I leapt off my chair, spinning around. “Tristan! I mean, my lord.”

“Your Highness.” Martin bowed. He eyed the two of us as though wondering what sort of destruction we would wreak upon his library. “If you could please keep your voices down.” Then he walked hurriedly away.

Tristan gave a soft snort of laughter as he warded our conversation against eavesdroppers, but I could tell he wasn’t feeling very amused. “I suppose I should consider this an improvement over the mines.”


I eyed him nervously, wondering if this would be the moment of reckoning. “It was something I thought I needed to do. Thank you for not interfering.”

He cocked one of his eyebrows. “Once I realized where you’d gone, there wasn’t much I could do without making a scene and raising more questions than I’ve a mind to be answering. It was reckless of you, though. And dangerous. I have noticed that there is a certain pattern to your behavior, and it makes me nervous.”

“I didn’t get caught,” I said. “At least, not really.”

His jaw tightened.

“A guild member saw me,” I admitted. “But I think he was a sympathizer.”

Tristan went very still. “Tell me what happened.”

I explained, and when I finished, he nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t think we need to worry about him.”

“I don’t either,” I said. “Do you know who he is?”

“Yes.”

I had hoped he would elaborate, but as usual, he was unwilling to divulge any more information than necessary.

Silence hung between us, but I felt his anxiety mount. Though he knew we were allies, he did not trust me. Not completely. Not in the way I found myself trusting him.

“Why are you in the library, Cécile?”

I stepped away from him and back to my table full of books. I cleared my throat. “I was brought to Trollus for one reason, Tristan, and that was to fulfill the prophesy that came from your aunt’s foretelling.”

“I’m not sure anyone actually believes you will,” Tristan started to say, but I interrupted him.

“Oh, they believe,” I said softly, thinking of the faces of the half-bloods in the mine. “Not everyone is as pessimistic as you.”

I rested my elbows on the table and stared at the grimoire. “Clearly it wasn’t the two of us being bonded under moonlight. It must be something we need to do. What exactly did your aunt say?”

He stared at me, his reluctance palpable.

“I’ve a right to know, don’t you think?”

“Fine. It was in verse. They always are, but don’t ask me why, because I don’t know.”

I shrugged. “I like poems.”

“Eyes of blue and hair of fire

Are the keys to your desire.

Angel’s voice and will of steel

Shall force the dark witch to kneel.

Death to bind and bind to break

Sun and moon for all our sake.

Prince of night, daughter of day,

Bound as one the witch they’ll slay.

Same hour they their first breath drew,

On her last, the witch will rue.

Join the two named in this verse

And see the end of the curse.”





He recited the words quickly. “It isn’t very good, as far as poems go. But it is clear.”



Clear on the surface, maybe, but binding the two of us obviously wasn’t all it would take.

Tristan settled down in the chair across from me, nibbling on a fingernail. “Any ideas?” He seemed oddly nervous given that we sat alone in a library.

I brooded on it for a moment, not liking the only idea that came to mind. “I think we need to track her down and kill her.”

Tristan rubbed his hands across his eyes. “Do you think we haven’t tried?”

“I don’t know what you have or haven’t done,” I snapped, annoyed that he was fighting me on this. “No one has bothered to tell me.”

“Then let me tell you now. For years after the Fall, humanity avoided Trollus like the plague, which wasn’t surprising given the way they’d been treated. But eventually, greed drove them back.”

“Gold?” I asked.

“Always the gold. Trollus had plenty of wealth, but no food. When the first men found their way back in, do you think that is what Xavier asked them for? No. First, he sent them after her. Wealth beyond their wildest dreams if they could produce the corpse of the witch. Countless women resembling her were slaughtered, but never the right one. His people were dying of starvation, but his entire focus was on hunting her down. Only when his own larders grew lean did he turn his resources to establishing trade for food. And they called him the Savior for it.”