Warrior Witch: Malediction Trilogy Book Three (5 page)

I hated him.

I hated him.

I hated him.

“Tristan.” I felt Cécile’s hand on my sleeve. “Tristan, listen to me. Your father isn’t the enemy.”

The paper in my hands exploded into fire.

T
he moment I said it
, I knew it was a mistake. Not because I was wrong, but because Tristan wasn’t ready to hear it. I should’ve explained the facts and given him the chance to come to the conclusion himself, because when it came to his father, he was not logical. He was not reasonable. He wasn’t himself.

The letter from his father exploded into silvery fire, and I dropped my hand from Tristan’s sleeve and took a step back from the heat.

He went very still in the way only trolls could manage, then slowly turned his head to fix me with an unblinking stare. That strange and alien gaze that seemed entirely without emotion. Almost without… life. A lie of an expression, because the sense of betrayal I felt from him twisted my guts. The silence stretched for what seemed like painful minutes before he exhaled and said, “Explain.”

“We went to talk to the fairies,” I started to say, then stopped, realizing that it sounded like I’d deliberately courted disaster. “We needed to know what was going on in Trollus – what our enemies were planning.” I glanced at Sabine, and she nodded once in encouragement. “I knew you’d send scouts to spy, but even if they evaded capture – which isn’t likely – they wouldn’t know what to look for. They wouldn’t understand the dynamics like we would. And I knew the fairies could open a hole that would allow me to see what’s happening in Trollus without risk of capture.”

“Without risk?” Tristan’s voice was toneless, but somehow managed to be filled with incredulity and admonition.

Ignoring the comment, I continued, “She came when I called, and bargained with me. In exchange for a song, she agreed to show me our enemy.” I dragged my gaze up from the floor to meet Tristan’s eyes. “She showed me Angoulême, Roland, and Lessa.”

“She?”

I nodded. “The Winter Queen.”

Victoria whistled through her teeth, but I barely heard it through the jolt of trepidation I felt from Tristan. “And?” he asked.

An explanation of what I’d seen poured from my lips, but as valuable as the information was, I was more interested in his reaction to the Queen’s comments about his father. I repeated the conversation word for word, and then held my breath, waiting.

Nothing.

“She thinks Angoulême is the enemy we should focus on.”

Tristan let out a humorless laugh. “No, she withheld what you really wanted so that she could get what she really wanted. Which was?”

I swallowed, my chest feeling tight. “She wanted me to arrange a meeting with you. She wanted to trick me into getting you outside these walls. But ultimately, what she wanted was your name.”

Everyone in the room went quiet.

“Obviously I declined that bargain,” I said.

“I suppose we can consider that a win,” Tristan said, and my spine stiffened.

“Don’t you take that tone with her.” Sabine stormed up and inserted herself between Tristan and me. “We might have taken a risk in talking to those creatures, but at least we accomplished something. We know which of our enemies is most worth our attention and at least part of their plan, including a hint as to where the Duke might be hiding. And we know that monster who styles herself as a Queen has an interest in getting you out into the open. What have
you
done?” She waved her hand at the bloodstains. “Let Aiden run willy-nilly through the castle despite knowing he was under your father’s control. Let him kill the Regent. Glassed us in with magic that so far hasn’t protected us from
anything
. Stones and sky, you should be thanking Cécile for arriving when she did or Aiden would be dead and Marie, the only ruler you could expect the soldiers to follow, would hate your miserable guts.”

“If you two hadn’t provided such a timely distraction, the Regent wouldn’t be dead,” Tristan retorted. “And your clue to Angoulême’s intended hiding place is hardly helpful. ‘The faces of Anaïs’s ancestors?’” He shook his head sharply. “It could be the ruins of one of their old properties or a stockpile of artwork and possessions. She might not even have meant her family specifically, but rather something related to the fey. Nor need it be on the Isle: for all we know, he intends to catch a ship to the continent and run things from there. Distance means little when one has a name.”

It was then that I tuned them out, their bickering nothing but a drone of noise in the background. My cheek stung and I was exhausted from days without sleep, but I knew if I closed my eyes, all I would see was Roland walking across the Isle and slaughtering as he went. Tristan and I had unleashed him on the world, and what were we doing to stop him? Fighting amongst ourselves.

“Well?”

I blinked, realizing that everyone was staring at me. “Pardon?”

Tristan’s face darkened further. “What do
you
suggest we do?”

I swallowed into the empty pit that was my stomach. “We can’t hope to fight a war on two fronts and win. Your father is the lesser evil. For now, we need to join forces with him to stop Angoulême and Roland.”

I swayed against the wave of emotion that smashed into me, and it was an effort to meet Tristan’s eyes. The room became uncomfortably hot, the itchy tingle of too much magic in too small of a space marching across my skin.

“No.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but everyone heard it. Stepping around Sabine, he walked out of the room.

I tried to go after him, but Marc stepped into my path. “Let him go.” He nodded once at Victoria, and she swiftly departed. “She’ll calm him down.”

“How many people will have to die before he realizes he’s making a mistake?” I asked, rubbing a hand across my face. It came away coated in gold glitter – remnants of my costume from a performance that seemed a lifetime ago.

Marc caught hold of my elbow and led me over to the table. “Sit.” To Sabine, he said, “She needs to eat something – can you arrange for that?”

She didn’t answer, but her shoes made soft little thuds as she crossed the room. Marc sat next to me, and though he was silent, his presence was as much a comfort as it had always been.

“It is hard for any of us to imagine Thibault as an ally,” he eventually said. “But for Tristan…”

“I understand that.” I rested both elbows on the table. “I hate him, too. He’s hurt me. Hurt those I care about.”

“
Do
you understand?”

I lifted my head, surprised.

“I do not wish to marginalize the harm Thibault has caused you,” he said, gloved finger tracing a knot in the wood of the table. “But you’ve been under his thumb for a matter of months, whereas we’ve been there our entire lives, Tristan especially. Almost his entire life has been predicated upon the belief that his father is the enemy – the man he needed to defeat at whatever cost. To set that aside – even if it is the correct choice – is no small thing.”

“Do
you
think it’s the correct choice?” I asked.

Marc leaned back in his chair, troll-light moving with him so that his face remained in shadows, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Sabine standing at the door, expression intent. “I think it would certainly be the swiftest and surest way to put a stop to Angoulême, Roland, and their followers. That in the short term, it would mean less loss of life. And,” he held up a hand to forestall my interjection, “that is worth something. But it would come at a cost.”

I chewed on my thumbnail. “Because it would put the King back in control?”

“Worse,” Marc replied. “It would
cement
his power to the point we might never be able to wrest it from him again.” He leaned toward me, elbows on his knees. “Tristan has worked for a very long time to create an alternative to the way his father rules Trollus. At first, it was covert, appealing only to the half-bloods and a few token sympathizers. But that’s changed. The city is ready to follow him, ready to fight for a new way of life, and if he were to bend knee to his father now…” Marc sighed. “It would be a betrayal I’m not sure he’d ever be able to overcome. And it would mean the Isle would be subject to Thibault’s rule for the rest of his life.”

I had no stomach for this: for the weighing of strategies when lives were at stake. I’d always take the path that would save lives
now
versus saving lives
later
, because I believed that time would provide a solution that would see
all
lives saved. Some – Tristan included – would say that it was a lack of foresight on my part, but I couldn’t stand by and watch people die because it was the strategically correct thing to do.

“He wouldn’t really be bending knee to his father,” I protested. “It would only be until we’ve dealt with Angoulême, and then Tristan can rid Trollus and the world of his father.”

“And do you think Thibault wouldn’t be ready for that?”

I jumped to my feet, chair tipping over with a clatter. “So you think I’m wrong? That we should just sit back and let Roland slaughter our friends and families while we figure out a way to assassinate the King?”

“I didn’t say you were wrong, Cécile,” Marc said. “Only that the solution might not be as clear cut as you might wish.”

“And both of you are forgetting one big problem,” Sabine said, bringing a tray of food to the table. “The fairy queen.”

I took a bowl of soup from the tray and began spooning it into my mouth as I considered Sabine’s words. “She did something to our bond so that Tristan didn’t know I’d left the castle,” I said.

Marc shook his head. “She couldn’t affect that. What she did was catch you in an illusion within your own mind – one that you and Sabine shared.”

I blinked once and Sabine lifted her eyebrows.

“She wanted you to believe you were across the city from Tristan,” Marc said. “But she knew he would sense the distance, so instead she used illusion to deceive you. Time flows differently in the mind, but it would have been taxing, even for her.”

My mind couldn’t even begin to wrap itself around the concept, so I set that part of his explanation aside and focused on the last. “If it was so taxing, why did she do it?”

“Because she wanted to talk to you without his interference.” Marc rubbed his chin. “She didn’t care to risk a direct confrontation with him. It’s well within his power to do her a great deal of harm.”

And here I’d thought it was the other way around.
I let my spoon fall against the lip of the bowl with a clatter. “Then why is he afraid of her?”

“He should be wary, yes. Her power is immense, and she commands an enormous host of deadly creatures. But her magic isn’t a weapon in the way a troll’s is.”

“I didn’t say wary.” My skin burned with my rising anger. “I said afraid.”

Marc hesitated, his stillness betraying his unease. “I don’t know.”

I desire to renew our acquaintance…
The fairy queen’s words danced through my head and I swore. “They’ve met before.” Shoving a roll in my pocket, I started toward the door.

“Cécile–”

I stopped without turning around. “No, Marc. I know you’re trying to protect him, but if he’s keeping things from us then he doesn’t deserve it. We’re at war, and there’s no place for us keeping secrets from each other. Not for Tristan. Not for any of us.”

I left the room and he didn’t try to stop me.

I
climbed
the stairs of the other tower, wrapping my cloak around me before I shoved open the heavy oak door. The chill made my arm ache in memory of Winter’s touch, but I shoved aside the pain as I scanned the darkness for Tristan.

He stood in the shadows, elbows resting on the weatherworn parapet. Though he knew I was there, he didn’t turn and, after a moment, I went to stand next to him. Casting my eyes out over the city, I noticed the light of the dome was gone, its presence apparent only through the slight distortion in the air. The blizzard had ceased, but the cloud cover had thickened, blocking out all light from the stars and moon. The Isle should have been pitch black in the hour before dawn.

But it wasn’t.

In the distance rose an orange glow. Fire, fierce and bright, and not just burning in one location. It burned in many. And even as I watched, a massive gout of silvery troll fire exploded into the night sky, rising higher and higher before fading into the colors of natural flames. “Roland,” I whispered. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Tristan’s voice was barely audible over the wind.

“Can you tell where he is?”

“Just beyond Trollus.” His fingers dug into the stone, little bits of it crumbling to fall into the darkness below.

“The Hollow?” I was shaking, my teeth clattering together even as my skin burned hot. “My family? Chris?”

“I can’t tell for certain.” He shifted, snow crunching beneath his weight. “I think he’s keeping to the Ocean Road, but he isn’t the only troll out there.”

Tears dribbled down my cheeks, the names of all the small villages and hamlets along the road rising up in my mind. All those people dead or enslaved. And if he was going that direction, Courville would be next. Turning my head, I looked out over the ocean to see if I could glimpse the glow of the city on the far side of the bay, but the mist hanging over the water blocked it from sight. Other than Trianon and Trollus, Courville was the only other city on the Isle. Thousands of people lived there. Thousands of soon to be victims.

“And why is it,” I asked, scrubbing the tears from my face, “that you haven’t gone to stop him?”

Tristan was silent for so long that I wondered if he’d answer me at all. Then he said, “I made a bargain with Winter to save my life. That’s how I survived the sluag sting. Its venom is a sort of magic. She controls them, and therefore she controls their magic and its effects. I owe her a life-debt. There is almost nothing she cannot ask of me.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I told Victoria, and she will explain the circumstances to your brother. They’ll come up with a reasonable excuse for why I’m hiding behind the walls while my brother destroys every town and village he comes across.”

I said nothing while I mastered my temper, then, “It’s been months since you were stung, and you never once mentioned this little detail.”

“Actually, I did,” he said, and my mind prickled with a half-recalled memory. The scent of frost. I focused hard, and the forgotten conversation slowly moved to the forefront of my thoughts.
Someone with a great deal of power did me a favor. I owe her a very great debt.

“She made me forget,” I said. “How is that possible?”

“More of a strong suggestion that our conversation wasn’t worth remembering,” he said. “She couldn’t take something without giving up something in return.”

“Why didn’t you remind me?”

Tristan sighed. “I gave her my word not to speak of the conversation that happened between the two of us, and… And as long as the curse was in place, I didn’t have to worry about the debt.”

And he’d believed he never would, as I’d yet to convince him that the trolls deserved to be freed.

“Do you know what she wants?” I asked.
Could he tell me if he did?

He shook his head. “No, but it will be something I don’t want to give. She wouldn’t waste the debt on anything I’d sacrifice freely.”

I leaned over the edge, fighting the urge to rid myself of the small amount of soup I’d eaten. “I didn’t think things could get worse.”

“I’ve warned you about the dangers of optimism.”

I laughed, but it had a strange, almost hysterical edge to it. “Does she need to see you face to face to call in this debt?”

He gave a small nod. “Which is why she was using you to try to lure me out. But a debt can only be called once. A name, though… You know as well as anyone what an effective tool that is. Be thankful it’s the one thing she can’t ask me for.”

His words sound like a barb, but they didn’t feel that way. He was past anger, slumped into the depths of indecision and regret.

“You couldn’t have known it would come to this,” I said, resting my hand on top of his, feeling the heat of his skin through the leather of his glove.

“Don’t try to give me absolution in this, Cécile,” he said. “I knew it would cost me, but with my life on the line – and yours – it was a risk I was willing to take. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have given her.”

He leaned against the wall, keen eyes delving into the darkness. “I should be out there stopping him. He’s my responsibility. But what if I step outside these walls and she calls my debt? What if whatever she asks of me not only keeps me from stopping Roland, it prevents me from protecting those in Trianon? But if I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”

Another tower of silver flame lit the night sky and I squeezed Tristan’s hand. Now wasn’t the time to push an alliance with Thibault, so instead I asked, “Why hasn’t your father moved?”

“Because he knows I won’t attack him while he’s in Trollus,” Tristan said. “There’s too much of a chance of one of us bringing the mountain down on the city. And, likely, he’s using Angoulême’s actions as a way to force me into an alliance. As a way of bringing me to heel. If only he knew that I’ve already effectively been caged.”

I racked my brain for a solution, for a way to find out what the Queen intended. “What about your uncle?” I asked. “Could he stop her?”

“He can’t prevent her from claiming what’s owed to her any more than she could keep him from doing the same.” He gave me a meaningful glance that I chose to ignore.

Closing my eyes, I remembered the being I’d met in that land of endless summer. How he had seemed to glow golden like the sun. It was hard to imagine him subjugated, and it also didn’t make sense. “But he called her his wife?”

A ghost of a smile drifted across Tristan’s face. “They would’ve framed themselves in a way you’d understand. Spoken your language. Appeared in a form they believed you’d find pleasing. The higher fey are…” He paused, seeming to flounder for an explanation, “they’re not solid, static creatures populated by a soul in the way a human is. They are sentient entities that appear as they wish, and the lesser fey are their creations. Splinters of themselves that they’ve shaped into certain forms then abandoned to their own devices. When the higher fey came to this world, they formed themselves as humans to blend in with those living on the Isle. Perfect humans. And when the iron eventually bound them here, they found themselves imprisoned in their human forms.”

I remembered Anushka’s words:
that’s what they are. Base. To the human eye, they are so very lovely, but to their ancestors, the immortal fey, they are wretched, ugly, and colorless things. Trolls.

“The rulers of Summer and Winter are bonded,” he continued. “But they hate each other. They’re continually at odds, their warriors constantly warring against each other. And with the ebb and flow of battle, so do the seasons shift in all the many worlds they touch upon.” He opened his hand and let the snow blow off into the night. “Winter is at the height of her power.”

I frowned, a thought occurring to me as I remembered my conversation with the fairy queen.

“What?”

I pursed my lips. “Is it possible she didn’t want the curse broken?” I replayed the conversation over to him as best as I could remember.

Tristan’s brow furrowed, and he absently brushed snow off the parapet so he could rest his elbows as he thought. Reaching into my pocket, I handed him the bun I’d stuffed in there prior to abandoning Marc and Sabine.

“My aunt has long believed her prophesies came from the Summer Court,” he took a bite, chewing slowly. “If my uncle wanted us freed, it would be because it benefited him in some way, so it would make sense that it would be to Winter’s detriment.”

“Any guesses as to what that benefit might be?” I asked.

“We are technically part of his court,” he replied. “All my aunt’s prophesies have been information that has helped my people, warned us about trouble.” He shrugged. “Maybe he’s not done with us yet.” He turned to look at me. “We know for certain he’s not done with you. You owe him for my name.”

My mouth went dry, less for the reminder of the debt I owed than for the reminder of the name I possessed. I’d been on the cusp of using it today to save Sabine, and as much as it made me sick, I knew that doing so would’ve been a mistake. “Is there a way to unknow it?”

“Unknowing it wouldn’t cancel your debt.” He tilted his head. “But that isn’t your reason for asking, is it?”

I shook my head. “It’s too great a weapon. I’m afraid of misusing it.”

“What if you need it?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I whispered.

The hinges of the door creaked, and we both turned. “We’ll talk about this later,” Tristan murmured.

Fred appeared in the entrance. “The scouts have all departed, and I’ve sent ships out to see if they can pinpoint your brother’s progress as well as to warn Courville. Lady Victoria indicated that he’d have no difficulty sinking the ships from shore, so they know to be out of sight by dawn.”

“Good.” Tristan exhaled. “And you’ve sent riders with warnings?”

“Already gone. Hopefully the islanders listen and take refuge in the mountains where they’ll be harder to find, although it will be difficult with the snow and the cold. We’ve begun loading what ships are in the harbor with those who can’t fight, but they’ll need to set sail soon if they are to be out of range before full light. The winds aren’t in our favor.”

“Marc can help push them out of the harbor,” Tristan said. “I’ll send him straight away.”

My brother’s eyes widened, and it occurred to me that he really hadn’t seen the scope of a troll’s power. “Right,” he said, then looked away and scratched his chin, giving away his discomfort. “Lady Victoria explained your predicament. I think if we tell those in Trianon that you must remain in the city to keep it protected that none of them will protest too heartily about you not venturing out. For now, anyway.”

“It’s not far from the truth,” Tristan said, eyes going to fires in the distance. “His power has grown.”

Doubt twisted my guts, and I knew it was doing the same to Tristan’s. Roland was testing his powers, seeing how far he could push them now that he was freed of the confines of Trollus. And for the first time ever, I wondered who the most powerful troll on the Isle really was.