Hidden Huntress
Page 31
I’d never considered this consequence. No troll I’d ever heard of had given up the power of another’s name, so I’d undertaken the task without complete understanding of the ramifications. And they’d been far greater than I’d anticipated. I hadn’t only given up the power to command them in the future, I’d undone the power of any commands uttered in the past. And there was no one that affected more than my cousin.
“We’ve decided.” Tips’s voice drifted down the tunnel toward us.
“Cursed timing,” I swore, exchanging a panicked look with Vincent.
Tentatively, I reached out and rested a hand on Marc’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I said under my breath. “I didn’t know this would happen.”
He didn’t respond, but the rock he was gripping with one hand began to crumble.
“Your Highness?” There was heat in Tips’s tone. “Lost interest in us already?”
I ignored him. Marc was more important. “Does your word still hold?” I hissed.
His hood jerked up and down once, and a modicum of relief flooded through me. “Can you hold yourself together while I finish this? After, I’ll think of something.”
He didn’t respond.
“Marc!” I clenched his shoulder. “Answer me.”
Slowly, he turned his head so that I could see one eye. It was coated with a thin layer of blood, the vessels breaking under pressure and reforming in an instant. I wanted to recoil away from that gaze, but I didn’t let myself.
“You chose,” he said, his voice thick with animosity. “Do not squander what you have gained.”
His words were a punch to the gut, driving away my breath. Was this always to be my destiny? Hurting those who mattered most with my failed efforts to make the right choices? “I’m sorry.”
“Get on with it.”
I turned numbly back to the half-bloods, only a lifetime of practice allowing me to wipe away all traces of what I was feeling. Tips and his crew were watching us with interest, aware that something had occurred during their discussions, but uncertain what.
“What is your decision?” I asked, finding it hard to care with my cousin rapidly losing his mind behind me.
Tips didn’t hesitate. “We’re with you.” He gestured at his crew. “All of us.” They nodded in agreement. “But as for the rest of the half-bloods… That will take time. They aren’t the most trusting these days.”
My relief at his words felt small and inconsequential. “Until we know more about my father’s plans, we dare not act,” I said. “We’ve got time. Best we keep this between us until we think of a strategy.”
Tips nodded. “Now that we’ve got that settled, you should make yourself scarce. Our cooperation means nothing if we don’t make quota.”
“Until then.” I nodded at the half-bloods, and a few of them bowed awkwardly. Tips did not. He, at least, would take our equality seriously. And frankly, I had bigger concerns.
“Get him out of here,” Vincent said quietly. “And think of a solution.”
“I will,” I muttered. Marc was already facing down the tunnel, but the air was thick with magic that coiled unguided, brushing against me, the walls, the ceiling. I touched the manacle on my left wrist, ignoring the stab of pain while I cursed the steely handicap. Was the punishment worth taking them off? I might end up with more than just the two in my wrists. What good would I be to anyone then?
“Let’s go.” Marc’s voice sounded strange and unfamiliar. Angry. Dangerous.
I’d be punished for taking the manacles off, but if I left them on, there was a real chance I might not get out of these tunnels alive.
Twelve
Cécile
“You’re out late.”
I jumped, my mother’s voice acidic in my ears. She stood next to the roaring fire, face cast in shadows, a glass of brandy in her hand. “Feeling a bit dramatic this evening?” I asked, hanging my cloak on a hook. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be dining with Julian?”
She took a sip of her drink. “He was otherwise occupied.”
“At least he’s recovered from your announcement,” I said, flopping into a chair. “I was more than a little concerned he’d quit the company for spite.”
“Quitting isn’t an option for him.”
There was enough venom in her voice to make me re-evaluate the severity of the situation. I’d long known that Julian was enamored with her, but surely the emotions were not reciprocated? He was the same age as my brother. “Did he say something to you?”
She took another swift drink. “He said a good many things.”
I grimaced, knowing that if he’d repeated what he’d said to me to her, she would not have taken it well.
“Enough of Julian.” Setting down her glass, she drifted across the carpets, coming to a stop in front of me. “Where were you this evening?”
“Here and there.” She had never cared where I was before, other than to suggest I spend more time entertaining subscribers after performances.
“Here and there,” she parroted my words back, and I knew I was in trouble. “Perhaps I need to be more specific, Cécile. Why were you in Pigalle?”
I gaped at her, my mind scrambling for a lie even as it raced for a possible explanation of how she knew.
“Don’t bother trying to squirm your way out of it, my dear,” she snapped. “Your brother was here, which would have been a shock in and of itself, but he insisted on giving me an earful about letting you run wild through the slums. What could possibly even interest you in that trash heap they call a quarter?”
“We’ve decided.” Tips’s voice drifted down the tunnel toward us.
“Cursed timing,” I swore, exchanging a panicked look with Vincent.
Tentatively, I reached out and rested a hand on Marc’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I said under my breath. “I didn’t know this would happen.”
He didn’t respond, but the rock he was gripping with one hand began to crumble.
“Your Highness?” There was heat in Tips’s tone. “Lost interest in us already?”
I ignored him. Marc was more important. “Does your word still hold?” I hissed.
His hood jerked up and down once, and a modicum of relief flooded through me. “Can you hold yourself together while I finish this? After, I’ll think of something.”
He didn’t respond.
“Marc!” I clenched his shoulder. “Answer me.”
Slowly, he turned his head so that I could see one eye. It was coated with a thin layer of blood, the vessels breaking under pressure and reforming in an instant. I wanted to recoil away from that gaze, but I didn’t let myself.
“You chose,” he said, his voice thick with animosity. “Do not squander what you have gained.”
His words were a punch to the gut, driving away my breath. Was this always to be my destiny? Hurting those who mattered most with my failed efforts to make the right choices? “I’m sorry.”
“Get on with it.”
I turned numbly back to the half-bloods, only a lifetime of practice allowing me to wipe away all traces of what I was feeling. Tips and his crew were watching us with interest, aware that something had occurred during their discussions, but uncertain what.
“What is your decision?” I asked, finding it hard to care with my cousin rapidly losing his mind behind me.
Tips didn’t hesitate. “We’re with you.” He gestured at his crew. “All of us.” They nodded in agreement. “But as for the rest of the half-bloods… That will take time. They aren’t the most trusting these days.”
My relief at his words felt small and inconsequential. “Until we know more about my father’s plans, we dare not act,” I said. “We’ve got time. Best we keep this between us until we think of a strategy.”
Tips nodded. “Now that we’ve got that settled, you should make yourself scarce. Our cooperation means nothing if we don’t make quota.”
“Until then.” I nodded at the half-bloods, and a few of them bowed awkwardly. Tips did not. He, at least, would take our equality seriously. And frankly, I had bigger concerns.
“Get him out of here,” Vincent said quietly. “And think of a solution.”
“I will,” I muttered. Marc was already facing down the tunnel, but the air was thick with magic that coiled unguided, brushing against me, the walls, the ceiling. I touched the manacle on my left wrist, ignoring the stab of pain while I cursed the steely handicap. Was the punishment worth taking them off? I might end up with more than just the two in my wrists. What good would I be to anyone then?
“Let’s go.” Marc’s voice sounded strange and unfamiliar. Angry. Dangerous.
I’d be punished for taking the manacles off, but if I left them on, there was a real chance I might not get out of these tunnels alive.
Twelve
Cécile
“You’re out late.”
I jumped, my mother’s voice acidic in my ears. She stood next to the roaring fire, face cast in shadows, a glass of brandy in her hand. “Feeling a bit dramatic this evening?” I asked, hanging my cloak on a hook. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be dining with Julian?”
She took a sip of her drink. “He was otherwise occupied.”
“At least he’s recovered from your announcement,” I said, flopping into a chair. “I was more than a little concerned he’d quit the company for spite.”
“Quitting isn’t an option for him.”
There was enough venom in her voice to make me re-evaluate the severity of the situation. I’d long known that Julian was enamored with her, but surely the emotions were not reciprocated? He was the same age as my brother. “Did he say something to you?”
She took another swift drink. “He said a good many things.”
I grimaced, knowing that if he’d repeated what he’d said to me to her, she would not have taken it well.
“Enough of Julian.” Setting down her glass, she drifted across the carpets, coming to a stop in front of me. “Where were you this evening?”
“Here and there.” She had never cared where I was before, other than to suggest I spend more time entertaining subscribers after performances.
“Here and there,” she parroted my words back, and I knew I was in trouble. “Perhaps I need to be more specific, Cécile. Why were you in Pigalle?”
I gaped at her, my mind scrambling for a lie even as it raced for a possible explanation of how she knew.
“Don’t bother trying to squirm your way out of it, my dear,” she snapped. “Your brother was here, which would have been a shock in and of itself, but he insisted on giving me an earful about letting you run wild through the slums. What could possibly even interest you in that trash heap they call a quarter?”
