Flipping to the last page of writing, my heart skipped a beat.

Curses.

The writing was cramped and far messier than anywhere else in the book. Water stains marked the page and made the ink run. Most of the writing described remembered bits of lore from her homeland. Four words were underlined so roughly that the paper had nearly torn. Death, Desire, and True Name.

Which wasn’t particularly helpful. The death – King Alexis’s – made enough sense. And she obviously knew his name. But desire? Was it his desire for her? Or her desire for the trolls to be cursed? Something else? Anushka wrote nothing about specific incantations required to make the curse take effect, or about how long it would last, as she had with the other spells. And there was nothing about breaking a mountain. Instead of answers, all I had were more questions.

“Are you feeling unwell, my lady?” Élise called through the door.

“I’m fine!” I answered back. Shoving the grimoire into a set of drawers, I exited the garderobe. I’d need to find a better hiding place for it later.

“Blue or red?” Élise asked, holding up two gowns.

“Blue,” I said. It was Tristan’s favorite color. Not that he was likely to attend dinner. And not that it mattered if he liked what I was wearing.

Our argument in the library today hadn’t been a fake one. He did not want the curse broken. I understood his argument – he was afraid the trolls would wreak havoc on the world and enslave humanity all over again. I was just surprised to hear it coming from him, because it meant he was putting humanity ahead of his own people. But what surprised me more was that I didn’t agree with him. When I had first arrived, the trolls had seemed dangerous and evil – and a few still did – but I’d come to realize that such was not the nature of the majority. The half-bloods were clearly against oppression, and I knew there had to be more full-bloods like the Miners’ Guild member who were of a similar mind. Keeping everyone captive forever because of a few seemed… unfair. Especially once the King was dead and unable to harm anyone. But Tristan was no fool, and he clearly saw things differently. What did he know that made him so sure history would repeat itself? And was I an overly optimistic idiot to think otherwise? Surely there had to be a solution.

Like a binding promise.

My fingers twitched as a glimmer of an idea came to mind. Trolls were bound to keep their word. Wouldn’t it be possible to make every one of them promise not to do violence against humans in exchange for their freedom? It seemed like a fair enough exchange to me. It would have to be a carefully worded oath, but surely something could be crafted that would serve?

“Ready,” Élise said, stepping back and interrupting my thoughts.

I got to my feet, and impulsively, I wrapped my arms around my maid and hugged her tightly. “I’m trying,” I whispered into her ear.

“Thank you,” she whispered, squeezing me back. “I have faith in you.”

At least someone did, I thought, as I rushed through the palace to the King’s private dining room.

“Your Majesties,” I said, dropping into a deep curtsey. “Your Grace.”

Only the three of them, plus a dozen servants, were in the room. Lessa stood behind the King with a wine pitcher, her face expressionless. Tristan, as I had suspected, was absent.

“You’re late,” the King snapped around a mouthful of food.

“My apologies,” I replied, sitting down in my usual seat. “Thank you for waiting for me to arrive before you began.”

The Duchesse cackled merrily, the wine in her glass sloshing over the rim. “The glutton’s gut eats all day and lechers all night. Such a thoroughfare of vice has no time to waste waiting on manners.”

The King paused mid-chew and gave a baleful glare. “Where is Tristan?”

“How should I know?” I said, motioning for the servant to give me an extra portion of chicken. “He does not keep me appraised of his comings and goings.” I was feeling somewhat bold – having read Anushka’s spells, the trolls no longer seemed quite so invincible.

The King set down his fork and pushed his plate away, even though it was still laden with food. I felt my hands grow cold and it took a great deal of willpower to swallow my mouthful of chicken.

“I’ve had about enough of the way you two carry on,” he said, his chair creaking as he leaned back. “Quarreling in public with no regard for how your behavior reflects on this household. How it reflects on me.”

I forced myself to chew and swallow before answering. “I am not the one instigating our quarrels, Your Majesty. Forgive me, but perhaps your criticism would be better directed towards your son.”

The Duchesse shot me a dark look from over the Queen’s shoulder. She clearly did not appreciate me passing the blame to her nephew.

The King laughed. “Perhaps it would, but he isn’t here, is he? Tell me, Cécile, why do you think he is so set against you?”

I hesitated. I considered pleading ignorance, but then decided against it. He would know I was lying. “Because I am human, Your Majesty. He dislikes my kind.” I watched, barely able to breathe as he slowly shook his head.

“Excuses, Cécile. You were brought here to serve a purpose – a purpose you seem to have forgotten while you gallivant through my city pursuing every possible whimsy that this one,” he gestured at the Duchesse, “can think up.” He took a long sip of wine, eyeing me over the rim of the glass. Lessa leaned over his shoulder to refill it. “You are a splendid example of your kind, my dear, and for all his protests, Tristan is a seventeen year-old boy. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Good,” he replied. “Because if I don’t see an improvement in your conduct, not only will your gallivanting cease, I will lock you in a box with no room to move.”

The fork slipped through my fingers, clattering against the plate.

“I’ll leave you to rot in your own filth,” he continued, “until you come to understand why there is no one alive who dares to disobey me.” He smiled. “Now get out of my sight.”

Knocking back my chair, I rushed from the room before he could see the pallor of my face. My bravado had long since fled. Being able to open Anushka’s book and read spells that could separate a troll from his magic didn’t mean anything unless I could use them. I needed to learn to do so.

“I hate him!” I announced loudly. “He’s a vile, gluttonous, evil creature and I hope he chokes on a fishbone.”

Élise stopped dusting and Zoé poked her head out of the closet. “What happened?”

Flinging myself down on a sofa, I waited for the girls to sit on either side of me before I explained in terse sentences what the King had said.

“Oh, he’s a villain,” Zoé said, her brow creased with indignation. “It isn’t fair to threaten you – it’s not your fault that His Highness is being…” She flung her hands up in the air. “I don’t know, antagonistic?”

I nodded warily. To the best of my knowledge, the girls didn’t know about our ruse – they thought our quarrels were real. It was all so complex and convoluted that I figured it was best to keep silent on it entirely. My head began to pound in frustration. “I don’t know what to do.” That much was honest.

The girls exchanged concerned glances. Zoé retrieved a hairbrush and began working on my hair while her sister set to filing my already perfectly filed nails. It was no hug – their training was too ingrained to instigate that degree of familiarity – but the sentiment was the same. It made me wish desperately that Sabine were here.

“I don’t think you have any choice,” Élise said, exchanging the file for a buffer. “You have to do what the King says – we all do.”

“How?” I clenched my jaw. “I can’t make Tristan be nice to me.” Never mind that doing so would totally undermine the human-hating persona that he took such pains to cultivate.

“No,” Élise said, “you can’t. But you can be seen making an effort. It might buy you time.”

“What do you suggest?” I asked, the growing gleam on their faces making me uneasy.

“We can lower the necklines on your dresses,” she said. “Make them snugger in the right places.”

“And there are certain fragrances that are said to stimulate ardor. I can procure some in the city and let it be known that you requested them. Word will spread like wildfire, and all gossip eventually gets back to the King.”

“This all sounds humiliating,” I said, slumping my shoulders.

Élise shrugged. “It’s better than ending up in a box.”

She made a valid point, which is why I subjected myself to trying on gown after gown while the girls pinned, tucked, and altered, all the while thinking that this really wasn’t the answer. I didn’t want to buy time – I wanted to take action today. I wanted Tristan to get rid of his menace of a father now, not a year from now. The spells in Anushka’s grimoire might just be the key to speeding along the process, if I could find a way to use them. And in order to do that, I needed to get my hands on the primary ingredient of all the spells: troll blood.

That would be no easy task.

“Too tight?” Zoé asked around the silver pins she had stuck between her lips. I realized I’d been frowning, and forced my face to relax and shook my head. She went back to work and I went back to my thoughts.

Marc was the most obvious person to ask, but he would want to know why, and I had no confidence that he wouldn’t tell Tristan. Same with the twins. As much as they might like me, they were his kin, his closest friends, and they were fervently loyal to him. I glanced down at Zoé and Élise, their faces terse with concentration as they worked. They were my friends, but again, their loyalty was unquestionably to Tristan. There was no way they’d hand over something that might possibly be used against him, and besides, I had no way of knowing how their half-human blood would affect the spells. So that ruled out Tips and his gang as well.

All possible paths, it seemed, led back to Tristan. He was the only one I could ask, but I had a sinking feeling that that conversation wouldn’t go well. He liked being in control of circumstances, and I was already something of a loose cannon running amok with his plans. He would not like giving me more power than I already had. He didn’t trust me enough. He’d take the grimoire away from me, and with it, the only real leverage I had.

I sighed as deeply as I could in the tight dress. If only he would give me a chance to prove I was trustworthy and loyal, then maybe he would believe that I sought to harness Anushka’s spells to help him, not to hurt him. I needed him to understand that he was the last person in the world that I would hurt; that I would do whatever it took to help him. That I… I bit my lip and forced the thought away. He didn’t need to know that.

Clapping a hand over my mouth, I faked a yawn, then directed an apologetic look at my maids. “I think I’m about done for the night,” I said. “I’d like to get ready for bed.”

Once they had left me alone in my room, I crept out and retrieved the grimoire from the garderobe. The cover of the book felt vile and sinister in the darkness, and it was a relief to crawl back into bed and turn my light on. I made a tent of my blankets – in case anyone was watching – then I opened the book and flipped to the back. I slowly made my way through the pages, my mouth moving as I memorized the foreign words. It was easy enough for me – I was used to memorizing opera lyrics in other languages.

It was beginning to feel like fate that the librarian had found it for me; that after five hundred years, I’d been the one to open it. Maybe Tristan was right, and we shouldn’t break the curse. But that didn’t mean the knowledge that I could extract from Anushka’s writing was useless. There had to be a way I could use it against the King. But first I needed to convince Tristan to help me, and to do that, I needed to lure him in. I glanced across the room at the shadowy form of an altered dress hanging on the closet door.

Maybe, I thought, just maybe, that might work.

CHAPTER 21

CéCILE

“Well, you did a fine job of provoking him.”

The sound of Tristan’s voice pulled me out of deep sleep. Even after I’d hidden the grimoire away, I’d stayed up late trying to think of ways to get Tristan alone. And here he was. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, blinking at the brilliance of his light, which hovered over the bed. I briefly wondered how long he’d been standing there watching me sleep. “Don’t blame me. He was angry before I even got there. Where have you been all night?”

“If anyone asks, tell them I was here sleeping,” he replied, turning away from me.

“I know the routine,” I said. “It’s just I don’t think there’s any point to it. He knows you’re avoiding me. I think he thinks you’re letting your dislike of humans interfere with finding a way to break the curse.”

“That’s better than the alternative.” He studiously avoided looking at me and rifled through papers on the desk, but there was no missing the embarrassment growing in the back of my mind.

“True,” I agreed, although I didn’t understand why the alternative – his father knowing he didn’t want to break the curse – had elicited his embarrassment. I frowned, mentally reviewing his words in my mind. He was acting strangely. I pulled the covers up around my chin and watched him unbuckle the sword at his waist, set it carefully on the desk, and then cross over to the closet. He took off his coat, hanging it carefully on a hanger, and brushed the fabric smooth. He untied his cravat with a quick jerk, but he folded it neatly and placed it on a shelf. There were dark circles under his eyes – all his sleepless nights were catching up with him.