Keeping Christophe alive hadn’t been up for debate, but following Cécile into the gardens and telling her the truth? Inexcusable. For one, I couldn’t trust her, and two, the more she knew the greater danger she was in. If everyone believed her to be nothing more than a failed experiment in my father’s quest to break the curse, they’d let her be. But the minute anyone thought she could be used against me…

I ground my teeth in frustration. I hadn’t thought it would be this hard, even though Marc had warned me. “The bond changes everything,” he’d said. “Whether you like her or not, keeping her safe will become your ultimate priority.” Lo and behold, I’d been awake all of last night fretting about the tiny cut on her foot and whether the cold damp of the city would cause her to catch a chill. She’d shivered uncontrollably in her sleep until I’d warmed up the room, forcing me to spend the rest of the night dripping sweat.

And that voice. The strange acoustics of Trollus had filled the city with her song, luring me to her. And when I’d seen her standing in the dark, so fierce and defiant with hair like flames trailing loose down her back… If I wasn’t careful, she would be my undoing.

I turned into the Dregs, negotiating the narrow streets until I came to a ramshackle house leaning against a tavern. Anaïs stood in the shadowy doorway, a smile touching the corners of her lips when she saw me. “You’re late.”

“My most sincere apologies.”

She slid her arms around my neck and leaned in for a kiss, but I turned my face at the last minute so that her lips landed on my cheek. For me, this was a ruse – a valid reason to be skulking around the Dregs in the middle of the night; but for Anaïs, it was something more. Nudging the door open with my foot, I swung her across the threshold, her giggles filling the street until I shut the door behind her.

She clung to me even after I’d dropped my hands from her sides, dangling from my neck like a child. “Let go, Anaïs.”

“What if I don’t want to?” she purred into my ear, holding on easily without assistance. I walked from room to room with her feet banging against my knees, ensuring we were alone in the house, setting barriers against eavesdroppers and whispering to my magic to set off firecrackers if anyone came in.

I looked down at Anaïs. “Please?”

She made a pouty face, but let go of my neck. It was one of the things Angoulême never seemed to understand about his daughter. No one made Anaïs do anything. All you could do was ask and pray she was in an amicable mood. I didn’t thank her though. That would imply she’d done me a favor, and I already owed her enough as it was.

“You’re in a foul temper,” she said, watching as I tossed my hat across the room before flopping face down on the bed.

“Tired,” I mumbled into the dank-smelling pillow. “And I missed dinner.”

“New little wife keep you up all night?”

I glared at her with one eye. “Don’t start.”

She shrugged. “There’s already a rumor going about the city that your first-born son will reach out and shatter the barrier with his little fist.”

“They may have a long wait.”

“That isn’t what I heard,” Anaïs said, examining the contents of a basket sitting on the floor. “I heard two of my maids talking. They heard from the kitchen staff, who heard from one of the groundsmen, who heard from one of your wife’s maids that you are a vile wheezing hog. The lady Cécile reckons she’s never been so mistreated in all her life, and she’ll never read another romance novel because the knowledge of what she’s missing breaks her heart.” She plucked a pastry from the basket. “Éclair?”

I munched on one of the pastries and counted the cracks in the ceiling. Well played, Cécile, I thought, if perhaps a tad overacted.

“I assume she’s lying?” Anaïs nibbled on an éclair, expression mild, but I wasn’t fooled.

“Assume what you want – it’s none of your business.”

She laughed. “My business or not, I told my father what I’d heard and added in a bit about how you were never ever cruel to me. Given that he finally thought he’d found a way to discover where your loyalties truly lie, he was furious. He was certain you’d be sweet to her in private.”

“Of course,” I murmured. Several months ago, Angoulême ordered his daughter to seduce me and spy on my activities to see if she could discover any sympathetic leanings. Anaïs had promptly told me everything. It was she who concocted the plan to pretend to do her father’s bidding, but actually feed him useless information. It had also been her idea, although I was against it, to continue the ruse of her seduction so that I might have a way to meet with the revolutionaries. I hadn’t wanted to damage her reputation, but in the end, her argument had won out. “What does my reputation matter?” she’d said. “I’m afflicted in the worst sort of way, and everyone knows it. There isn’t a man in Trollus who’d risk the odds, even if my reputation were pure as the driven snow.”

And to my shame, I’d had to agree with her.

“How is Roland?” I asked. Anaïs hesitated and my heart sunk. “Worse?”

“Yes and no. His rages in themselves are no worse, but he’s stronger. When he learned you’d bonded the human, he quite lost himself. The servants couldn’t control him and I had to step in.”

“He’s eight, how strong could he be?”

“He’s your brother, a Montigny descended from the most powerful trolls to ever walk this earth. Another few years and only a handful of us will have the power to hold him. By the time he’s grown, he’ll be nearly unstoppable. My father believes he can control him, but he’s a fool. The boy’s insane, Tristan.” She coiled a finger around a lock of hair and nibbled on the ends – a nervous habit she’d never been able to break. “I know it’s a hard thing to consider, but…”

“No.”

She threw up her hands. “Tristan, not only is he a danger to everyone around him, as long as he lives, he also puts everything you’ve worked for at risk. A steel knife in the heart would solve all our problems.”

“No!”

The air in the room grew hot, but Anaïs didn’t flinch. “You’re being a sentimental fool, which is something a king cannot afford to be.”

“Perhaps, but neither should he be a murderer. Not even my father murders trolls.” Though he’d torture them to the point that they wished they were dead…

“And here I thought you were against discrimination… but it would appear that even you, with your lofty morals, value troll lives over those of your precious humans.”

I shot her a dark look. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Are you certain?” Her eyes searched mine. “I know some of them are precious little pets to you, but is it possible you weigh our lives equally with theirs?” Anaïs sighed. “I, myself, do not. Oh, I recognize the need to treat them well or risk another embargo, but within reason. We are better, a higher level of being. It is like comparing dragons to mice.”

“There are no dragons here any longer, Anaïs,” I chided.

“I know.” There was longing on her face. “But when the curse is broken, perhaps they will come back. All the others, too.”

The witch had been more than savvy in her cursing. My people were not the only ones who looked for her death. “All things are possible,” I said, and Anaïs was too lost in her own thoughts to notice my non-committal response.

The silence stretched. “We have little power to control such things,” Anaïs finally said. “But we can resolve the matter of your brother.”

“Leave the matter be, Anaïs. I’m no murderer, and I’m certainly not going to kill an inno… a child.” My voice caught on the word. Innocent, Roland was not.

She tilted her head to one side. “Of course you’re not, that’s why I’d do it for you.”

Leaping to my feet, I leveled a shaking finger at her. “Anaïstromeria, you will not…” I broke off before giving the order, and slowly turned away. I could hear the sound of her ragged breathing. A bead of sweat dripped down my neck as the temperature rose, her magic responding to her fury.

“I gave you my true name as a token of trust, Tristan. To demonstrate my loyalty to you and you alone. Not so that you could use it to compel me whenever we disagreed.”

Her voice was bitter, and I had to fight down the wave of guilt it inspired. Not only because of what I’d nearly done to Anaïs, but because it occurred to me that I’d lost count of the number of true names I possessed, the number of trolls I had the complete power to compel. It was a power I never intended to use – it was enough that they knew I could, but chose not to.

“It’s time,” she said, handing over my hat. “They’ll be waiting for you now. You’ve only got about another half-hour until curfew.”

Glad to have a reason to drop the conversation, I pushed the bed aside, lifted the trapdoor, and jumped into the tunnel leading to the cellar of the tavern next door. When I emerged, they were all there waiting for me. Hair more brown than black, eyes more grey than silver, I could feel the weakness of their magic, could tell even with my eyes closed that everyone in the room was half-blood. Except for the one human. I frowned at Esmeralda, who leaned against the wall. Her patience with my timeline was growing thin. I would have to find an excuse to get her out of Trollus before she caused any more trouble.

Walking to the front of the room, I silently regarded my followers. I would be their champion, lead the revolution to tear down the autocracy that valued only power and bloodlines, even if it meant starting a war against my father. I would risk my own life and those of my friends to accomplish these goals, but there was one thing I’d never do: break the curse.

Some creatures were best kept in their cages.

CHAPTER 13

CéCILE

I hadn’t heard Tristan come in during the night, but when I awoke the following morning, there was something sitting on the pillows next to me. At one end was a clear glass ball that was attached to a pommel-like handle wrapped with soft white leather. The handle had a thin leather wrist-strap hanging from the end of it. Next to it was a short note written in the flowing script I recognized as Tristan’s.

You looked ridiculous walking around the city carrying an empty wineglass. I don’t care to be associated with a drunk. Particularly one who damages glassware. Touch the diamond with your finger to turn it on.

TdM

Examining the item more closely, I saw that there was a formidable diamond embedded in the handle. Tapping it with my finger, I smiled in delight as the bulb at the end lit up. Tapping the diamond again extinguished it. “Clever, clever,” I whispered, climbing out of bed and dragging the covers with me.

The door flung open. “Good morning, Cécile!” The Queen smiled at me, but as usual, it was the Duchesse who had spoken.

Even though my ankles were tangled in the pile of linens, I managed a passable curtsey, wondering if they intended to intrude on me every morning. “Your Majesty. Your Grace.”

“Where is Tristan?” The tiny troll demanded. “Matilde, turn around so that I can see.”

“He isn’t here,” I said. “But he was here,” I added when she frowned. “Briefly.” It wasn’t entirely a lie – he must have come in at some point to leave the light.

“Briefly.” The Duchesse’s eyebrow rose.

“He gave me this,” I said, hoping to forestall any other questions.

The Duchesse examined the light stick and then read the note. “Ha ha!” she cackled.

“What is it! Let me see! Is it a love note?” the Queen demanded, reaching over her shoulder.

“I suppose some people might call it a love note.” The Duchess winked at me.

Tristan’s mother read the note and sighed. “Oh dear. It isn’t very good, is it?”

“It’s his first time, Matilde,” the Duchesse replied. “I’m sure he’ll improve with practice.”

I stifled a laugh at the thought of His Royal Highness putting any effort into love notes. Especially ones addressed to me.

The Duchesse clapped her hands together. “Now let us get down to business. Yesterday was a disaster, to say the least. I don’t want anything similar to occur at the party this evening.” She gestured for me to come closer. “How much longer do you suppose it will take your face to heal?”

I glanced at the mirror across the room, my black eye prominent even in the dim light. “Another week,” I ventured. My gran had the knack for herbs and healing, and she’d taught a lot of it to my sister, but I’d never paid much attention. I hadn’t needed to.

“Mercy!” The Duchesse shouted the word, making me jump. “So long? It amazes me you survive a trip to the privy, you humans are so fragile. Élise!” she hollered, rather unnecessarily, given the girl was already in the room.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Is your aunt in the city?”

I saw the nearly imperceptible tightening around Élise’s eyes at the mention of Esmeralda. “She is, Your Grace.”

“Go see if she has anything that might speed up the girl’s healing. I’m tired of her looking like one of those dreadful drawings my eight year-old nephew is always sending to me.”

“He uses a lot of color, I take it,” I said, examining the virulent bruises on my arms.