Hidden Huntress
Page 9
I nodded numbly. “I promise to do whatever it takes to find her and bring her here.”
“Good girl.” He tossed Anushka’s grimoire through the barrier. It landed with a thud on the wet rock.
I ignored it, dropping to my hands and knees. “Tristan?”
His eyes half-opened and fixed on mine.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I couldn’t bear it.”
He turned his face away from me. He wasn’t grateful – he was angry that I’d failed him.
“Take him back to the palace and have him cleaned up.” The King watched with an expression devoid of emotion as the guards lifted Tristan between them and carried him up the River Road. Then he turned to me. “Best you get to work, little witch. You’ve a promise to keep.”
Four
Tristan
Maintaining one’s dignity while being dragged in chains through the city one had once been destined to rule, covered in weeks’ worth of one’s own filth, is difficult. That being said, I thought I had managed the deed well enough on the trip between my prison cell and the River Road. Not so on the return voyage. There had been no dignity in my screams; and while the streaks left behind by my tears of pain might have elicited the pity of some, they certainly earned me no respect. I did not deserve it.
I was the fallen prince. Twice a traitor, having betrayed both my father and my cause in a single moment, ensuring that I would remain an outcast for whatever remained of my life. All for a human girl who I loved above all things, and all, it seemed, for nothing.
My jaw ached as I clenched my teeth, half for the pain racking my body, but more for the remembrance of her expression. Horror and pity mixed together in her brilliant blue eyes, but all paling beneath the weight of the promise she’d made for my sake. The burden of a choice that should have been mine, but because I’d been too weak to endure my father’s abuse, the choice had fallen on her instead. I hadn’t even been man enough to look her in the eye and own my defeat – had instead turned my head away, feeling that not only had I failed her, I’d failed at everything I had ever set out to accomplish, at everything that I thought myself to be.
The guards dropped me, and I ground my teeth to keep from crying out. My eyes fixed on the familiar carpet beneath my knees.
“Leave,” said a voice I would recognize anywhere. The guards grumbled, but their boots retreated from my line of sight and the door slammed shut behind me. It took a concerted effort to lift my head enough to see the troll standing in front of me. “Hello, cousin,” I said, my voice hoarse.
“You look terrible,” Marc replied, his disfigured face grim. “Can you get up?”
“I think I am content where I am.” The carpet scratched against my cheek as I lay my head down. “Why am I here?” I asked as an afterthought.
“I’ve little notion – I was hoping you might provide some insight into why your father ordered your change of accommodation.” Marc came toward me, and I rolled one eye up at the sound of metal keys clinking together, remaining motionless as he unlocked four of the six manacles skewering my arms. “Brace yourself,” he said, and jerked one of the cuffs open. A wet sucking noise filled my ears, and I fainted.
When my consciousness returned some moments later, the manacles lay in a blood-crusted and rusty pile on the floor. The two remaining on my wrists stung, the cursed iron still itching and infuriating, but the relief of having the others removed was enormous. Having them in place was like having bands of metal wrapped around my chest, allowing me little gasps of breath, but never enough to satisfy my need. I greedily drew upon my magic, using it to prop myself up on my knees.
“Better? He ordered that I leave two in place.”
I nodded. “Much.”
“I had a bath ordered for you.” He gestured to the steaming tub. “I hadn’t reckoned on the injuries.”
“Just as well.” I slowly got to my feet. “I’m not much for conversation, I’m afraid. Send in my servants on your way out.”
“I’m afraid you have no servants.”
I turned from the bath to look at him. “What?”
“They all refuse to attend you.”
“All?” The loss was surprisingly painful. “So I have only you.”
He nodded. “And the twins, of course. But his Majesty ordered them to the mines as punishment for their actions. I believe he thought the low ceiling would trouble their backs, and perhaps it does, but I doubt he considered how well they’d take to the competition of it all. They do well enough down there.”
I gripped the edges of the tub. “He’ll only find another way to make them suffer. You should all forsake me – attempting to continue our friendship will only bring you trouble.” I fumbled with my destroyed clothing, cursing my numb fingers. “You may go.”
“Tristan, we knew what we were doing when we helped you free Cécile.”
“Don’t say her name,” I snarled, glaring at the water. I swore I could see her eyes reflected in its depths. “Leave.”
“I’m not leaving you in this state,” Marc said. “You’re injured – let me help you, at least.”
You are helpless. Fury flooded through me, and I rounded on him. “I do not need your help,” I screamed. The room shook as I lashed out with magic. Marc raised a shield, but the blow still sent him staggering. If it were not for the fact I was a fraction my usual strength, what I had done would likely have killed him. “Please leave.”
“Good girl.” He tossed Anushka’s grimoire through the barrier. It landed with a thud on the wet rock.
I ignored it, dropping to my hands and knees. “Tristan?”
His eyes half-opened and fixed on mine.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I couldn’t bear it.”
He turned his face away from me. He wasn’t grateful – he was angry that I’d failed him.
“Take him back to the palace and have him cleaned up.” The King watched with an expression devoid of emotion as the guards lifted Tristan between them and carried him up the River Road. Then he turned to me. “Best you get to work, little witch. You’ve a promise to keep.”
Four
Tristan
Maintaining one’s dignity while being dragged in chains through the city one had once been destined to rule, covered in weeks’ worth of one’s own filth, is difficult. That being said, I thought I had managed the deed well enough on the trip between my prison cell and the River Road. Not so on the return voyage. There had been no dignity in my screams; and while the streaks left behind by my tears of pain might have elicited the pity of some, they certainly earned me no respect. I did not deserve it.
I was the fallen prince. Twice a traitor, having betrayed both my father and my cause in a single moment, ensuring that I would remain an outcast for whatever remained of my life. All for a human girl who I loved above all things, and all, it seemed, for nothing.
My jaw ached as I clenched my teeth, half for the pain racking my body, but more for the remembrance of her expression. Horror and pity mixed together in her brilliant blue eyes, but all paling beneath the weight of the promise she’d made for my sake. The burden of a choice that should have been mine, but because I’d been too weak to endure my father’s abuse, the choice had fallen on her instead. I hadn’t even been man enough to look her in the eye and own my defeat – had instead turned my head away, feeling that not only had I failed her, I’d failed at everything I had ever set out to accomplish, at everything that I thought myself to be.
The guards dropped me, and I ground my teeth to keep from crying out. My eyes fixed on the familiar carpet beneath my knees.
“Leave,” said a voice I would recognize anywhere. The guards grumbled, but their boots retreated from my line of sight and the door slammed shut behind me. It took a concerted effort to lift my head enough to see the troll standing in front of me. “Hello, cousin,” I said, my voice hoarse.
“You look terrible,” Marc replied, his disfigured face grim. “Can you get up?”
“I think I am content where I am.” The carpet scratched against my cheek as I lay my head down. “Why am I here?” I asked as an afterthought.
“I’ve little notion – I was hoping you might provide some insight into why your father ordered your change of accommodation.” Marc came toward me, and I rolled one eye up at the sound of metal keys clinking together, remaining motionless as he unlocked four of the six manacles skewering my arms. “Brace yourself,” he said, and jerked one of the cuffs open. A wet sucking noise filled my ears, and I fainted.
When my consciousness returned some moments later, the manacles lay in a blood-crusted and rusty pile on the floor. The two remaining on my wrists stung, the cursed iron still itching and infuriating, but the relief of having the others removed was enormous. Having them in place was like having bands of metal wrapped around my chest, allowing me little gasps of breath, but never enough to satisfy my need. I greedily drew upon my magic, using it to prop myself up on my knees.
“Better? He ordered that I leave two in place.”
I nodded. “Much.”
“I had a bath ordered for you.” He gestured to the steaming tub. “I hadn’t reckoned on the injuries.”
“Just as well.” I slowly got to my feet. “I’m not much for conversation, I’m afraid. Send in my servants on your way out.”
“I’m afraid you have no servants.”
I turned from the bath to look at him. “What?”
“They all refuse to attend you.”
“All?” The loss was surprisingly painful. “So I have only you.”
He nodded. “And the twins, of course. But his Majesty ordered them to the mines as punishment for their actions. I believe he thought the low ceiling would trouble their backs, and perhaps it does, but I doubt he considered how well they’d take to the competition of it all. They do well enough down there.”
I gripped the edges of the tub. “He’ll only find another way to make them suffer. You should all forsake me – attempting to continue our friendship will only bring you trouble.” I fumbled with my destroyed clothing, cursing my numb fingers. “You may go.”
“Tristan, we knew what we were doing when we helped you free Cécile.”
“Don’t say her name,” I snarled, glaring at the water. I swore I could see her eyes reflected in its depths. “Leave.”
“I’m not leaving you in this state,” Marc said. “You’re injured – let me help you, at least.”
You are helpless. Fury flooded through me, and I rounded on him. “I do not need your help,” I screamed. The room shook as I lashed out with magic. Marc raised a shield, but the blow still sent him staggering. If it were not for the fact I was a fraction my usual strength, what I had done would likely have killed him. “Please leave.”
