Hidden Huntress
Page 142
“Enjoy your freedom, Anushka,” Lamia said, and her face faded into darkness.
Alexis stood with his back to her, head in his hands. “I am sorry for what Lamia has done. In my worst nightmares, I never dreamed she would stoop to such wickedness.”
“Punish her.” Anushka’s throat was raw from screaming, but she did not feel the pain.
“How?” Alexis asked. He turned around. “I cannot harm her without hurting myself. Is that what you want? Is your need for vengeance so great that you would make me suffer to punish her?”
Yes.
But Anushka could see he would do nothing. Alexis was too weak, too selfish to do what needed to be done. And Lamia was too clever to let Anushka close enough to harm her. There was only one way for her to have revenge, and a plan began to build in the depths of her mind.
“Shame her.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“If you will do nothing else, then at least shame her for me in front of your people. I want to be the one on your arm when you step out into the sun. Let me be first in this one thing.”
He hesitated long enough that she began to fear he would refuse. “It will be done.”
She found him hidden in a half-collapsed house, nearly dead from dehydration. “Do you want revenge on the trolls and the fey for what they have done to us all?” she whispered in his ear.
“Yes.” His throat was so dry the word was more motion than sound.
“What would you do to have it?”
“Anything.”
She sliced the knife across his throat, and as his life poured out, power like none she had ever known flooded her. “It will be done.”
The passage they had carved down to the ocean was narrow and so thick with magic it felt like wading through syrup. She held tight to Alexis’ arm, and the knife – still sticky with human blood – hung heavy in her pocket. All the might of Trollus followed behind them, Lamia included. The Queen’s gaze burned between her shoulder blades, a hate so intense it felt tangible.
“Father.” A young troll stood in front of a boulder, the sunlight filtering in around it framing him. “I thought I’d let you do the honor.”
Alexis braced a booted heel, and the rock toppled out and away, splashing into the surf. Sunlight shone in, and the intensity of it burned Anushka’s eyes. He turned to her and cupped her cheek with one hand. “You are the first.”
“I love you,” she lied.
He led her out into the sun.
I blinked against the memory of sunlight unseen for so long, my cheeks sticky with tears and clumped with golden powder. My mother let go of me and took a heavy step back, her own face flushed with spent emotion. Tristan stood unmoving in his chains, his shoulders slumped and face devoid of expression. He had not seen what I had seen, but he had felt what I had felt. And that was enough.
“Do you see why they must not be let free? Why the fey cannot be allowed to return?”
“You suffered a great injustice at their hands,” I said. “I cannot blame you for seeking revenge against Lamia, but what I cannot understand is how, after enduring that loss, that you can murder daughter after daughter to make yourself immortal.”
“Because there was no other way,” she snapped. “Do you think I did not try? The soul needs a bond of blood for the exchange of souls to work.”
Exchange of souls?
“That is little comfort for me,” I said. “I’ll still be dead.”
“You’ll be free.” Her eyes had the too-bright gleam of a zealot. “Do you think the same thing would not have happened to you if I had not intervened? He might keep you as his whore, but that’s all you’ll ever be to him. I’m saving you from a miserable fate.”
“This is about extending your life, not about saving mine.”
She laughed. “Is that what you think? That it is such a treat to live in fear of the trolls finally hunting me down? To carry the burden of keeping the world safe from their evil with no help and no respite? Is it so wrong after all these years of living the lives of other women that I should have a chance to live one of my choosing?”
And everything she’d done seemed so clear. How she’d managed to go undetected for so long. The way she’d managed my career and set me up for success. Tonight’s masque. She’d been orchestrating my life so that when the time came for her to steal my body, she’d be stepping into the life she wanted.
And once she’d done it, she intended to kill Tristan and Sabine and murder all the trolls along with them. There would be no one left to stop her, to punish her. Quite the opposite, the Regent would probably reward her beyond my wildest dreams for ridding the Isle of the trolls.
“The world owes me this,” she said, and then her face softened. “It will be over swiftly, Cécile. I promise you that.”
“Is that what you said to Genevieve when you chased her down in the woods?” I said, my voice shaking. “Was that the comfort you gave her when you stole any chance of her seeing her family again? Of raising her children? Of living her own life?” My body tensed with fury. “You’re every bit as bad as Lamia was. Worse, because you’ve done it over and over to your own blood!”
“Shut up!” She snarled the words and then dissolved into a fit of activity, fetching four small silver bowls, one filled with rocks, one with water, one with lamp oil that she lit with a taper, and one that held nothing at all. Taking out a tiny knife, she sliced across her forearm, allowing blood to flow into each of the basins, and then did the same to me, the pain sharp and fierce.
Alexis stood with his back to her, head in his hands. “I am sorry for what Lamia has done. In my worst nightmares, I never dreamed she would stoop to such wickedness.”
“Punish her.” Anushka’s throat was raw from screaming, but she did not feel the pain.
“How?” Alexis asked. He turned around. “I cannot harm her without hurting myself. Is that what you want? Is your need for vengeance so great that you would make me suffer to punish her?”
Yes.
But Anushka could see he would do nothing. Alexis was too weak, too selfish to do what needed to be done. And Lamia was too clever to let Anushka close enough to harm her. There was only one way for her to have revenge, and a plan began to build in the depths of her mind.
“Shame her.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“If you will do nothing else, then at least shame her for me in front of your people. I want to be the one on your arm when you step out into the sun. Let me be first in this one thing.”
He hesitated long enough that she began to fear he would refuse. “It will be done.”
She found him hidden in a half-collapsed house, nearly dead from dehydration. “Do you want revenge on the trolls and the fey for what they have done to us all?” she whispered in his ear.
“Yes.” His throat was so dry the word was more motion than sound.
“What would you do to have it?”
“Anything.”
She sliced the knife across his throat, and as his life poured out, power like none she had ever known flooded her. “It will be done.”
The passage they had carved down to the ocean was narrow and so thick with magic it felt like wading through syrup. She held tight to Alexis’ arm, and the knife – still sticky with human blood – hung heavy in her pocket. All the might of Trollus followed behind them, Lamia included. The Queen’s gaze burned between her shoulder blades, a hate so intense it felt tangible.
“Father.” A young troll stood in front of a boulder, the sunlight filtering in around it framing him. “I thought I’d let you do the honor.”
Alexis braced a booted heel, and the rock toppled out and away, splashing into the surf. Sunlight shone in, and the intensity of it burned Anushka’s eyes. He turned to her and cupped her cheek with one hand. “You are the first.”
“I love you,” she lied.
He led her out into the sun.
I blinked against the memory of sunlight unseen for so long, my cheeks sticky with tears and clumped with golden powder. My mother let go of me and took a heavy step back, her own face flushed with spent emotion. Tristan stood unmoving in his chains, his shoulders slumped and face devoid of expression. He had not seen what I had seen, but he had felt what I had felt. And that was enough.
“Do you see why they must not be let free? Why the fey cannot be allowed to return?”
“You suffered a great injustice at their hands,” I said. “I cannot blame you for seeking revenge against Lamia, but what I cannot understand is how, after enduring that loss, that you can murder daughter after daughter to make yourself immortal.”
“Because there was no other way,” she snapped. “Do you think I did not try? The soul needs a bond of blood for the exchange of souls to work.”
Exchange of souls?
“That is little comfort for me,” I said. “I’ll still be dead.”
“You’ll be free.” Her eyes had the too-bright gleam of a zealot. “Do you think the same thing would not have happened to you if I had not intervened? He might keep you as his whore, but that’s all you’ll ever be to him. I’m saving you from a miserable fate.”
“This is about extending your life, not about saving mine.”
She laughed. “Is that what you think? That it is such a treat to live in fear of the trolls finally hunting me down? To carry the burden of keeping the world safe from their evil with no help and no respite? Is it so wrong after all these years of living the lives of other women that I should have a chance to live one of my choosing?”
And everything she’d done seemed so clear. How she’d managed to go undetected for so long. The way she’d managed my career and set me up for success. Tonight’s masque. She’d been orchestrating my life so that when the time came for her to steal my body, she’d be stepping into the life she wanted.
And once she’d done it, she intended to kill Tristan and Sabine and murder all the trolls along with them. There would be no one left to stop her, to punish her. Quite the opposite, the Regent would probably reward her beyond my wildest dreams for ridding the Isle of the trolls.
“The world owes me this,” she said, and then her face softened. “It will be over swiftly, Cécile. I promise you that.”
“Is that what you said to Genevieve when you chased her down in the woods?” I said, my voice shaking. “Was that the comfort you gave her when you stole any chance of her seeing her family again? Of raising her children? Of living her own life?” My body tensed with fury. “You’re every bit as bad as Lamia was. Worse, because you’ve done it over and over to your own blood!”
“Shut up!” She snarled the words and then dissolved into a fit of activity, fetching four small silver bowls, one filled with rocks, one with water, one with lamp oil that she lit with a taper, and one that held nothing at all. Taking out a tiny knife, she sliced across her forearm, allowing blood to flow into each of the basins, and then did the same to me, the pain sharp and fierce.
