Hidden Huntress
Page 84
Wiping tears from her face, she nodded. “Good luck.”
I went back out to the stage and ducked under the curtain. Far above, the flames lighting the crystal chandelier were being extinguished from the access point in the ceiling, while two men slowly worked their way up the aisle, snuffing the wall lamps as they went. The red velvet of the theatre faded to grey, and one of them turned to give me a questioning look before snuffing out the last flame and leaving me in darkness.
It had been a long time since I had been in blackness so absolute, unable to see and entirely reliant on my other senses to guide me. The sound of the audience outside the gilded doorways at the rear of the theatre. The draft crossing the stage from left to right. The lingering smell of sweat and perfume, and the faint scent of salt rising from my clothes. From the sea, I wondered, or from the blood? My unnecessary and worthless slaughter.
I was afraid. I knew Aiden and Catherine would come for me, but I didn’t know what they would do once they found me. Would I be trussed up once more and left in a damp cellar? Would they punish me for escaping? How long would I have to wait? Sitting down on the polished floorboards of the stage, I picked up a rose that had been tossed up by the audience and ran a finger over the petals. Such sweet torment that tonight of all nights, Tristan would feel so near. A punishment and a reward in one. It seemed as though if I closed my eyes and reopened them, he would be standing right there.
One of the doors from the lobby to the theatre opened and shut, and a soft exhalation forced its way past my lips. The faint but distinct sound of someone walking down one of the aisles filled my ears, but I kept my eyes closed like a child who believes the monster can’t see you if you can’t see it. Only I wasn’t a child, and I knew I could not hide from what was about to come behind closed lids. So I opened them.
A faintly glowing orb of silver hovered in front of my face, painfully small and faded from what I remembered, but familiar nonetheless. My breath caught in my chest, the rose slipping from my fingers as my eyes searched the darkness. Another light appeared above the seats, growing and illuminating the theatre with its unearthly light.
“Cécile?” His voice was rough, uncertain, but a thousand years from now, I’d recognize it. Time seemed to stand still as I sat frozen, half convinced I was dreaming, and that when I woke up, I’d be alone in the theatre once more. Then I was running, as fast as I could, down the steps, up the aisle, and I was in his arms.
I had no words. But in that moment, I remembered what it was like not to need them. Because he felt what I felt – the whole twist of shock, uncertainty, and elation were as much in his mind as in mine. I buried my face in his neck and cried, because I’d been so afraid that I’d never see him again.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I finally managed to choke out. “How is it possible?”
“You called me. I had to come.”
Something in his voice sent unease creeping down my spine, and I pushed back so that I could see his face. He was thinner than when I’d left Trollus, his hair longer, and his eyes marked with shadows. But some things never changed, and his expression betrayed nothing of what he was thinking.
“I didn’t think it worked,” I whispered. “I used the wrong magic.”
He swayed slightly, seeming unsteady on his feet. “Tristan?” I asked, unable to keep the concern from my voice. My tarnished bonding marks told me he was deathly ill, but knowing it and seeing it were two different things. He didn’t answer, only lifted a hand as though to brush the hair out of his face, but lowered it without finishing the gesture. I didn’t miss the gleam of metal at his wrists. And it was then that I recognized the smell in the air.
Blood. And this time, it wasn’t my imagination.
“God in heaven,” I said, choking the words out. “Please tell me those haven’t been on this entire time?”
His silence was all the answer I needed.
“I’m taking them off.” I reached for his arm, but he jerked away from me, blindingly fast.
“No!”
“Why not?” What was wrong with him?
“He’ll put four more in their place.” He looked away, refusing to meet my gaze. But of course, it made sense.
“How long do we have until they find us?”
His gaze flicked up to meet mine. “They aren’t free.”
I stared back at him, unable to comprehend what he was telling me. “What do you mean? How is it that you…” I couldn’t even form a question.
“I don’t know. It could be…” he trailed off and shook his head. “All I know is that I’m the only troll no longer bound by the curse.”
Could I have asked for more? It was a circumstance so perfect, yet so improbable that I’d never even dreamed of it. Tristan free, and all the trolls I despised and feared still caged by the curse. The dilemma I’d grappled with for so long seemed solved – I was sacrificing nothing and no one to be with Tristan. Our lives were safe without me unleashing the likes of Roland upon the world. I should feel giddy, euphoric, even. But I didn’t. Instead I felt the sense that we stood in the eye of the storm, and that a step in any direction would plunge us back into chaos.
A door slammed, and we both jumped. “We can’t stay here,” I said. “They know I have escaped and they’ll be after me.”
“Who?”
“Lord Aiden du Chastelier. He’s been running messages for your father.” I motioned for him to follow me backstage, noting the way his eyes jumped from lamp to painting to ladder, trying to see everything and yet focusing on nothing.
I went back out to the stage and ducked under the curtain. Far above, the flames lighting the crystal chandelier were being extinguished from the access point in the ceiling, while two men slowly worked their way up the aisle, snuffing the wall lamps as they went. The red velvet of the theatre faded to grey, and one of them turned to give me a questioning look before snuffing out the last flame and leaving me in darkness.
It had been a long time since I had been in blackness so absolute, unable to see and entirely reliant on my other senses to guide me. The sound of the audience outside the gilded doorways at the rear of the theatre. The draft crossing the stage from left to right. The lingering smell of sweat and perfume, and the faint scent of salt rising from my clothes. From the sea, I wondered, or from the blood? My unnecessary and worthless slaughter.
I was afraid. I knew Aiden and Catherine would come for me, but I didn’t know what they would do once they found me. Would I be trussed up once more and left in a damp cellar? Would they punish me for escaping? How long would I have to wait? Sitting down on the polished floorboards of the stage, I picked up a rose that had been tossed up by the audience and ran a finger over the petals. Such sweet torment that tonight of all nights, Tristan would feel so near. A punishment and a reward in one. It seemed as though if I closed my eyes and reopened them, he would be standing right there.
One of the doors from the lobby to the theatre opened and shut, and a soft exhalation forced its way past my lips. The faint but distinct sound of someone walking down one of the aisles filled my ears, but I kept my eyes closed like a child who believes the monster can’t see you if you can’t see it. Only I wasn’t a child, and I knew I could not hide from what was about to come behind closed lids. So I opened them.
A faintly glowing orb of silver hovered in front of my face, painfully small and faded from what I remembered, but familiar nonetheless. My breath caught in my chest, the rose slipping from my fingers as my eyes searched the darkness. Another light appeared above the seats, growing and illuminating the theatre with its unearthly light.
“Cécile?” His voice was rough, uncertain, but a thousand years from now, I’d recognize it. Time seemed to stand still as I sat frozen, half convinced I was dreaming, and that when I woke up, I’d be alone in the theatre once more. Then I was running, as fast as I could, down the steps, up the aisle, and I was in his arms.
I had no words. But in that moment, I remembered what it was like not to need them. Because he felt what I felt – the whole twist of shock, uncertainty, and elation were as much in his mind as in mine. I buried my face in his neck and cried, because I’d been so afraid that I’d never see him again.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I finally managed to choke out. “How is it possible?”
“You called me. I had to come.”
Something in his voice sent unease creeping down my spine, and I pushed back so that I could see his face. He was thinner than when I’d left Trollus, his hair longer, and his eyes marked with shadows. But some things never changed, and his expression betrayed nothing of what he was thinking.
“I didn’t think it worked,” I whispered. “I used the wrong magic.”
He swayed slightly, seeming unsteady on his feet. “Tristan?” I asked, unable to keep the concern from my voice. My tarnished bonding marks told me he was deathly ill, but knowing it and seeing it were two different things. He didn’t answer, only lifted a hand as though to brush the hair out of his face, but lowered it without finishing the gesture. I didn’t miss the gleam of metal at his wrists. And it was then that I recognized the smell in the air.
Blood. And this time, it wasn’t my imagination.
“God in heaven,” I said, choking the words out. “Please tell me those haven’t been on this entire time?”
His silence was all the answer I needed.
“I’m taking them off.” I reached for his arm, but he jerked away from me, blindingly fast.
“No!”
“Why not?” What was wrong with him?
“He’ll put four more in their place.” He looked away, refusing to meet my gaze. But of course, it made sense.
“How long do we have until they find us?”
His gaze flicked up to meet mine. “They aren’t free.”
I stared back at him, unable to comprehend what he was telling me. “What do you mean? How is it that you…” I couldn’t even form a question.
“I don’t know. It could be…” he trailed off and shook his head. “All I know is that I’m the only troll no longer bound by the curse.”
Could I have asked for more? It was a circumstance so perfect, yet so improbable that I’d never even dreamed of it. Tristan free, and all the trolls I despised and feared still caged by the curse. The dilemma I’d grappled with for so long seemed solved – I was sacrificing nothing and no one to be with Tristan. Our lives were safe without me unleashing the likes of Roland upon the world. I should feel giddy, euphoric, even. But I didn’t. Instead I felt the sense that we stood in the eye of the storm, and that a step in any direction would plunge us back into chaos.
A door slammed, and we both jumped. “We can’t stay here,” I said. “They know I have escaped and they’ll be after me.”
“Who?”
“Lord Aiden du Chastelier. He’s been running messages for your father.” I motioned for him to follow me backstage, noting the way his eyes jumped from lamp to painting to ladder, trying to see everything and yet focusing on nothing.
