Warrior Witch: Malediction Trilogy Book Three (4 page)

B
efore we could take a step
, three pony-sized wolves stepped out of the blizzard, blocking our path. Their white fur was misty and insubstantial, but their snarls were real enough.

“Back, back,” I hissed, dragging Sabine with me until we were up against an ironwork fence, her hands fumbling with the gun as she reloaded. Leveling the weapon, she fired at one of the creatures, but it passed through with no effect.

“What do we do?” she hissed.

I clenched my teeth, wishing I had an answer. The Queen knew Tristan and I were bonded and what that meant. If she’d wanted to kill him, I wouldn’t still be standing. She wanted to lure him out, which meant her monsters wouldn’t kill me. But there was nothing to stop them from slaughtering Sabine.

“They have to be solid,” Sabine whispered. “I can’t shoot them if they’re not solid.”

“If they aren’t solid, they can’t bite.” Spotting a coal shovel leaning against a wall, I snatched it up and took a step forward.

One of the creatures sprung, solidifying mid-air, but my shovel caught it in the shoulder. It yelped and staggered, but was back at me in an instant, teeth snapping just out of reach of my weapon. I attacked again, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw the others creeping around me. Trying to get at Sabine.

I stumbled back, pressing her against the protection of the fence, brandishing my shovel. “Help,” I shouted. “Someone help us.” But the streets were empty, everyone hiding from the danger in the skies.

Sabine gasped, and I whirled around. One of the creatures had caught hold of her dress through the bars of the fence, and it had her pinned against the metal. She fired her gun, and the wolf exploded into snow and ice, but before she could reload one of the other creatures swiped a paw at the weapon, knocking it from her hand. It hissed, paw smoking where it had impacted the steel, but now there was nothing to keep it from attacking her. I lunged toward my friend, but a massive weight hit me between the shoulders and I went face first into the snow.

“No!” I jammed the handle of the shovel into the slavering maw behind my shoulder, and was rewarded with a sizzle and a cry of pain. Scrambling on my hands and knees, I swung at the haunches of the creatures stalking toward Sabine, but claws sank into my skirts, dragging me away. I rolled onto my back, jabbing the shovel at the paws holding me down. But I was losing the battle. I couldn’t get free and Sabine wouldn’t be able to hold them off. They were going to kill her.

From this distance, Tristan could help Sabine. Could pluck her out of the danger I put her in. But with the snow blinding his view, he’d need my guidance. And to do that, I’d have to use his name.

“Don’t do it, Cécile,” Sabine shouted as though sensing my thoughts. “She’s watching!”

I shrieked every expletive I knew at the opening between worlds and the queen standing just beyond, her face twisted with pain and expectation. Teeth closed on the heel of my boot, dragging me her direction. I swiped at the tear, but the shovel passed through as though it were empty air. Letting Sabine die wasn’t an option – I wouldn’t let it happen. I started to pull Tristan’s name from the depths of my mind, when the sharp squeal and the stench of burning fur and flesh pulled me back into the moment.

One of the fairy wolves was pressed against the iron fence by some invisible force, while another two were dashed against the wall of a building. There was a flurry of motion, and three shapes descended on the scene, two tall and one cloaked in shadow. Steel blades sliced through the air, the wolves exploding into sprays of snow and ice. The shadowed figure strode toward me, and the pressure on my heel released. When I looked back over my shoulder, the creatures that had been restraining me were gone.

Warm tendrils of magic lifted me to my feet, but I brushed them away and flung myself at my friend. “Marc!” The fine wool of his cloak was blissfully warm against my frozen cheek, and I let the shovel fall from my numb fingers with a clatter. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your scrawny behind,” Vincent answered for him, picking up my shovel and examining it. “Your choice of weapon is somewhat suspect, Cécile. It’s a good thing Marc has heard your shrieks for help before and recognized them.”

“Don’t I know it.” I squeezed Marc tighter. “Stones and sky, am I glad to see you three.”

“Perhaps we might delay this little reunion until we’re behind the castle walls.” We all turned to Sabine, who had retrieved her gun, the skirts of her gown shredded. Not waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and started walking.

The twins both cocked amused eyebrows, but Marc gave me a gentle push between the shoulders to set me walking. “She’s right.” Then, falling into stride next to me, he murmured, “Thibault sent us.”

“Why?”

“To deliver a message.”

“But…” I frowned, shaking my head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why send you when he could send someone whose allegiance he is sure of?”

“That is a very good question.”

Show me our enemy. Our enemy. Enemy.

I gave my weary head a little shake. No, that the Queen had shown me Angoulême did not mean the King was on our side – it only meant that our enemies were many. She’d known Thibault was the troll I’d wanted to see – it was all just a trick for her to gain control over Tristan.

But…

We were in no position to fight a war on two fronts – three, if I counted the Winter Queen, which I did. And if we had to ally with someone… Thibault hated Angoulême as much as we did, and maybe there was something to be said for putting aside our animosities for a time for the sake of destroying the greater evil.

The problem was, even if that was the correct strategy, I wasn’t sure Tristan would be able to put aside his hatred of his father long enough to see it.

I
paced back
and forth across the council room chambers, barely hearing the reports being given to me by the city’s administrators.

“You’re making people nervous,” Fred said, after the last messenger exited the room, leaving us alone.

“Blame your sister,” I muttered, throwing myself into the chair across from him with enough force that the wood creaked. I’d been almost to the gates when she’d stopped me in my tracks, leaving me to stare helplessly at the blizzard while she negotiated whatever disaster she’d stumbled upon. Or instigated.

It smacked of fey magic – powerful fey magic – and their involvement couldn’t be good. My uncle hadn’t provided the foretelling that had ultimately freed us out of the goodness of his heart – there was something in it for him. And if there were something in it for him, the Winter Queen would be doing her damnedest to counter him. The question was, and had always been, what did Summer have to gain from the curse being broken? And, conversely, what did Winter stand to lose?

“Cécile will have reasons for what she did,” Fred replied, interrupting my speculation before walking over to the illusion boxing Aiden away from the world. The man had been scratching and picking at my magic, and I wished Marie would hurry up with finding a place to lock him away. “She’ll probably even think they are good ones,” he added.

“I would have thought Sabine would temper her recklessness.”

Fred laughed as though my comment were ludicrous, then knocked a fist against the illusion. “What’s he doing in there?”

“A good question.” Marie stalked into the room. “And you might have more care, gentlemen. I should not like for our plan to fall apart because you were not mindful of who is listening.”

I’d spent the better part of my life being mindful about who was listening, but I let the comment slide. Blocking the doorway, I let the barrier holding Aiden turn transparent. And swore at what I saw.

My magic was streaked with blood and bits of fingernail; and though the tips of his fingers looked worn down to the bone, the wild-eyed Aiden continued to claw away, mouth open in muted screams.

“God in heaven, let him out,” Marie shrieked.

The second the barrier dropped, Marie flung herself at her son, but instead of welcoming her comfort, he snapped at her like some wild animal, a string of violent expletives streaming from his lips.

She recoiled, then rounded on me. “You said he’d be fine.”

“I said no such thing.” Pinning Aiden to the floor, I kneeled next to him, searching for any sign of sanity in his mad gaze. “He’s desperate to fulfill his word and we’re preventing him. He’s losing his mind.” And I’d never seen anything like this before. At least, not in a human. Did my father know his peon had been rendered useless and this was his way of disposing of him? Or…

“Help him.” Marie’s fingernails dug into my arm.

“I can’t. The only way to end this is to kill my father.”
Or to let my father win.

“If he dies, I’ll make you pay.” Her voice was a whisper, but the threat was clear. And I didn’t think it mattered to her that the world might pay along with me. I needed to think of a solution, and quickly.

“We could drug him.” Fred was leaning over my shoulder, his breath coming in short little whistles past my ear. “Can’t harm himself or anyone else if he’s out cold.”

“Do you have something?”

“I’ve a sleeping draught in my chambers,” Marie answered, but she didn’t move.

“Go get it,” I snapped. “And Fred, linger in the corridor and keep everyone out. The last thing we need is an interruption.”

Both leapt into action, leaving me alone with the ailing lord. I watched his labored breathing for a long moment before asking, “Is there anything of you left in there, Aiden du Chastelier?”

There was power in a name – even in a human one, and he slowly turned his head, some level of sanity returning to his gaze. “Yes.”

“Good.” I sat back on my heels. “If you endeavor to hold on to that, I’ll endeavor to see you freed of this foolish promise you made.”

“Do I have your word on that, Your Highness?” He cackled softly, throat convulsing.

“No.” I tilted my head, listening to the frantic beat of his heart. “I’ve made a few foolish promises of my own of late, and I’m finding them quite taxing.”

“Wise.” He rested his forehead against the stone. “I was young. I didn’t know what I was doing when I made those promises to your father.”

“I’m not interested in your excuses,” I said, wishing Marie would hurry up. “And blaming one’s poor choices on youth is a derivative excuse most often employed by the old.”

“Not excuses,” he said. “Just an explanation. And I might never have another chance to voice it.”

Talking seemed to have improved his lucidity, if nothing else, so I shrugged. “Confess away.”

“I promised to cede the Isle to him peaceably should the trolls ever be freed of the curse.”

“I’d gathered that much,” I said, then bit my tongue to keep any further sarcasm from passing my lips. “Why?”

“I was young. Foolish. Desperate. And the curse had held for centuries, so what were the chances of my debt being called?” He twitched against the magic binding his wrists. “And I didn’t realize what giving my word to him really meant.”

“You mean you didn’t think you’d have to keep it,” I said, not bothering to keep the sourness from my tone. “What did he give you in return?”

“Gold.” His color was high, but no longer from madness, I thought. It was shame. “I’d been running wild. Gambling, drinking, women – and my father did not approve. He cut me off completely. I was angry, and I knew… I knew bargains could be made under the mountain. Your father met with me personally. Feasted me and plied me with wine and listened to me complain about my father. Then he offered to pay my debts, and all he asked was for my word to come back and visit him again.”

I winced, knowing full well that my father could be jovial and charming when he was inclined. It was in those moments one should worry most.

“I paid my debts, but went straight back to the same behavior. When my creditors came calling, I returned again to Trollus and he offered me the same bargain.”

“And on the third time?”
It is always threes.

“He told me that he would provide an endless supply of gold, but in exchange, he wanted my word that I’d cede control of the Isle should he ever be freed. My word that I’d always come when he called me. That I’d do his bidding.” Aiden’s hands flexed as though they wanted to make fists but couldn’t. “I thought he was the fool, gambling so much wealth on a hope with less substance than smoke on the wind. I… I didn’t realize it would be binding.”

“You were wrong.” The greedy ones were always the easiest to catch
.

“Do you think I haven’t learned that lesson a thousand times since?” His eyes went to the bloodstain on the floor that had been hastily wiped up. “I would have put a bullet in my skull months ago, but…” A shudder ran through him, his desire to end his own life running counter to my father’s orders. He began to thrash as Marie came back into the room, and I swore as blood ran from the corners of his mouth.

“What did you do to him?” she demanded, clutching at the vial in her hand.

I ignored her accusation and pried Aiden’s jaw open, wedging magic between his teeth to keep him from biting off his tongue entirely. “Whatever it is you have, give it to him now!”

Her hands shook as she measured drops into his bloody mouth. He gurgled and hissed, trying to spit it back at her, but I pinched his nose until he had to swallow. “How long will it take to work?” I asked.

“Moments.” A bead of sweat dribbled down her cheek.

Moments passed with no results, and his heart labored to keep its frantic pace. “Give him more.”

She spilled more of the tonic than she got in his mouth while he swore and screamed that he’d maim and kill us both for thwarting him.

“It’s not working,” I said, grabbing Aiden’s shoulders and pinning him to the floor. He fought back with incredible strength, but it was coming at great cost, capillaries in his skin bursting, joints popping, and muscles straining.

“Any more will kill him.” She let the bottle slip through her fingers to smash against the floor.

“Then he’s a dead man,” I said. “His heart will fail under the strain.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

I jumped at the sound of Cécile’s voice, so caught up with Aiden that I hadn’t felt her approach. There was a streak of red across her cheek – an injury that had only just begun to scab over – but otherwise, she seemed fine. Marc stood behind her, face hidden within the shadows of his hood.

“The twins have gone with Sabine to retrieve my moth – Anushka’s – supplies.” She dropped to her knees between Marie and me. “What did he promise?”

“To cede the Isle to my father,” I said. “Among other things.”

Cécile’s brow furrowed, and she tucked a stray curl behind one ear. “This is not his way,” she murmured, but before I could question her meaning, Sabine and the twins rushed in, a large chest floating ahead of them.

“The book,” Cécile ordered, and Victoria plucked the grimoire from the chest and tossed it to her. She flipped swiftly through the pages, then stopped on one, scanning the contents. “This will do.”

“Don’t you dare hurt him,” Marie said, but Cécile ignored her. “Nettle leaf and camphor,” she said.

Victoria frowned, and Sabine elbowed past her, leaning in to the chest and rummaging through the glass bottles. Cécile listed the rest of the ingredients for the spell, then set the book aside and began dropping bits of this and that into a bowl. “I need a stone.”

The twins looked around, then Vincent heaved one of the flagstones out of the floor. “This do?”

She nodded and he set it in front of her. “Fire.”

Sabine handed her a candle, and she muttered, “Sleep,” lit the contents of the bowl on fire, then poured the mixture over the stone. Instead of a chunky mess of plants and bones, the mixture was liquid flame. It hit the stone, then, defying gravity, circled back up to pool in the bottom of the overturned basin. Cécile muttered, “Sleep,” once again, and turned the basin over, revealing what looked like water.

“Cup.”

Victoria handed her a dirty wine glass that had been sitting on the table, and Cécile dunked it into her potion. “Hold him steady.” She looked up then, blue eyes meeting mine, and I saw the uncertainty that I’d been feeling. She didn’t know if it would work.

“What is this supposed to do?” I asked.

“Put him into a deep sleep.” She licked her lips once. Then again.

“We tried that with a tonic,” I said, more for Marie’s benefit than Cécile’s. Better her expectations be low.

“But this is magic,” Cécile said, and then she poured the potion into the lord’s mouth. “Sleep,” she repeated, and all the candles in the room flared bright, then guttered out.

Three balls of troll-light filled the room, none of them mine.

“Is he… dead?” Marie looked like she was about to be sick.

“He’s asleep.” I tilted my head, listening to the slow but steady beat of the other man’s heart. “How long will it last?”

Cécile sighed. “We’ll have to give him more of the potion in a few days. And figure out a way to keep him fed. All this will be for nothing if he starves to death.” Climbing to her feet, she surveyed the room, eyes widening at the bloodstains covering the floor. “What has happened?”

Letting Aiden’s head drop to the floor with a thud, I got to my feet as well. “Compulsion drove him to kill his father.”

She covered her mouth with one hand, and I felt the stab of empathetic grief as she turned to Marie. “My lady, I am so sorry.”

“As you should be.” Marie extracted a handkerchief and wiped the mess from her son’s face. “It’s your fault.”

The retort that formed in my mind died on my lips as Cécile gave a slight shake of her head. She could defend herself, but had chosen not to.

“You’ve a place to keep him?” I didn’t wait for Marie’s nod, before continuing, “Take him there now.” To Vincent, I said, “Make sure no one sees him.”

I waited for my friend to leave with Aiden and Marie before saying more, purposefully refraining from looking Cécile’s direction. I could sense the anticipation on her – that there was something she wanted to tell me or needed to say, but whatever it was could wait. And if she thought otherwise, she could bloody well order me to listen to her, since she clearly had no compunctions against doing so.

Marc stood next to Sabine – an unlikely pair, though neither appeared discomforted. “How long do we have?” I asked him, not wasting time on pleasantries. He and the twins must have broken out of Trollus moments after the curse was lifted, then come to Trianon at full sprint with whatever warnings they had for me. If they were here, then I’d no doubt that the frontrunners of my father’s soldiers were right behind them.

Marc didn’t answer, only extracted a letter from a pocket and handed it over. I recognized the seal as my father’s, the wax smeared as though applied with great haste. “What is this?”

“I don’t know.” He rocked slightly on his heels. “All he said was that it was to be brought to you with no delays.”

My fingers hesitated over the seal, the paper feeling heavy in my hands.

“Tristan–”

“Later.” I cut Cécile off before she could say more, and then snapped the seal.

T
ristan
,

You have succeeded where five centuries of rulers have failed, as I knew you would. All is forgiven. Return posthaste to Trollus with Cécile so that you can be reinstated as heir. Your people need you here. As do I.

T

E
verything
in the room fell away as I read and reread the lines, the paper in my hand trembling.

“Tristan, what does it say?” Marc’s question filled my ears, though I sensed he’d had to repeat it more than once. I cleared my throat, but the words caught, so I cleared it again and read the note. As I did, I could hear my father’s voice and see his gloating face, and all I could think of was that iron-rimmed square on my aunt’s Guerre set where the onyx piece with my face sat. How my father considered me a puppet to be played as he saw fit. How he believed he could pull my strings until I’d accomplished what
he
wanted, never once caring about the cost, then call me back to heel.