Stolen Songbird
Page 31
Tristan made a face. “What an awful thing to say. Anyway, when I inquired as to her motivation for the unexpected act of violence, I discovered that she was of the mistaken belief that trolls turned to stone when exposed to the sun’s rays.” He pointed at the beam of sunlight that had moved a few inches further away. “Dear thing thought she was saving my life.”
“What reason have you given her to want to do that?”
“I asked myself the very same question,” Tristan said, rising to his feet.
“Did you come to any conclusions?”
Tristan raised both his hands and shrugged. “Tale as old as time, I suppose. Human women throwing themselves at our feet, blinded by beauty, power, wealth. No matter how they are used and abused, they always come back for more. Like loyal dogs.” He smirked. “Did you expect this one to be any different?”
In the past, his words had always been softened by the guilt he felt in saying them, but this time all I felt was vicious animosity. I tried to unravel his words – to see how I was different from those women – but I couldn’t. He did treat me poorly, and what had I just done if not thrown myself at his feet. My skin crawled with the realization of how pathetic that made me, but reason still governed my mind enough to know that I needed to play along; needed to play my part. “Is that what you think I am? A dog? Some poor beast you can pat on the head or kick in the ribs as suits your pleasure?”
Tristan laughed. “Not literally, of course. I’ve yet to hear you bark.”
It was too much.
I slapped him hard enough that my palm burned and my arm ached from the impact, but the pain was sweet. Raising my hand, I swung it again, but he caught my wrist, his motion so fast it seemed a blur. Fast enough that I knew he could have stopped my first blow if he’d wanted to.
“When a dog bites,” the Duke said softly, “you put it down.”
Tristan pulled me aside, stepping between me and the Duke. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Your Grace? Kill her on the chance I wouldn’t survive it? My brother – your ward – becomes heir to the throne. How long until my father suffers an untimely death and you become king of Trollus in all but name?”
“Big accusations, boy,” the Duke hissed. “And I confess, I find it more than a little ironic that you of all people dare to accuse me of treason.” He jabbed a long white finger against Tristan’s chest. “I know what you are, Your Highness, and where your true sympathies lie. When I find proof, it will be the end of you.”
“You’ll be looking for a long time, Your Grace,” Tristan said coolly, but I could feel the fury running through his veins. Fury and fear.
“Perhaps,” the Duke replied. His eyes raked over me and he smiled. “Tell me, Tristan, how does your pet human feel about your ongoing affair with Anaïs? Or does she really hate you so much that she doesn’t care?”
I staggered back, my veins filled with ice. “What do you mean ongoing?”
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Angoulême wrinkled his lip. “Where did you think he was going every night, girl? In my experience, there is only one thing that drives a man from a warm bed and that’s the bed of another.”
“Tristan, what is he talking about?” I asked, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. Shame mixed with fury seeped into my mind.
“Can’t even deny it, can you, boy?”
Tristan’s hands balled into fists, but he didn’t refute what Angoulême was saying. The pain of betrayal flooded through me. I’d trusted him. I’d put my fate in his hands thinking he was working to set me free, and the whole time he’d been sneaking off to meet with another girl. Worst of all, I’d thought he’d cared – that beneath the act necessitated by our circumstances he’d wanted things to be different. Wanted me.
Snatching up my skirts, I ran, my boots making faint slapping noises against the paving stones, the beam of my light bouncing as I raced through the winding back lanes of the city. Up and up the valley I went until I reached the waterfall, the spray dampening my dress as I stood staring up at the hole through which it fell. The Devil’s Cauldron, and I was in hell itself. Misery doused my anger like a bucket of water on flames, and I clenched a hand against the sharp pain rising up beneath my ribs. And the worst of it was that I knew I’d brought this pain upon myself. I’d been a fool to care about Tristan and doubly a fool to hope that he might feel the same for me.
I stood with my eyes closed, waiting for someone to tell me to step back from the edge of the waterfall and go back to the palace that was my prison. Then it dawned on me – I was alone. My eyelids snapped opened and I took stock of my situation. Tristan had dismissed my guards, and they hadn’t argued – why should they when Tristan was more than capable of controlling me? But Tristan hadn’t moved from the spot where I’d left him. If there was ever a chance, this was it.
Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I stared up the flight of stone steps that led to the gate and the shadows beyond. Sweat trickled down my back as I gazed up into the darkness. Turning, I stared down the valley towards the glowing city. There was nothing for me there. But if I made it through… I thought of my grandmother and the rest of my family. Of Sabine. The wide open spaces of the countryside. I remembered the heat of the sun on my face and the sweet pleasure of freedom. The choice was obvious.
Moving as fast as I dared, I felt my way up the steps until I reached the narrow platform and reached out for the cold bars. Fumbling around in my hair, I pulled a metal pin from my coiled locks. “Please work,” I whispered falling to my knees. Inserting the pin into the lock, I twisted it, waiting for the telltale click.
It stuck.
“Please, please, please,” I chanted, trying again.
Nothing. I glanced back at the city, half-expecting to see someone running up the steps to prevent my escape, but I was alone. Unlike the gate to the River Road, this entrance was devoid of any troll soldiers. The labyrinth needed no guardian. Its very nature was deterrent enough.
Gritting my teeth together, I jammed the hairpin back inside the lock and closed my eyes, working by touch. Then, with a click, the lock sprung open.
CHAPTER 22
TRISTAN
I slumped against the wall, head in my hands, stone digging into my spine. Everything was falling apart – Angoulême would not have been so open with his threats unless he was certain. The man was a cold-hearted devil, but no fool. It wouldn’t be long until he played his cards, and I was certain those cards would involve Cécile. If he thought the rewards worth it, he would not hesitate to break my father’s laws. Most likely it would be a threat against her life that would force me to reveal my plots or watch her die. And risk dying along with her. Or, if he thought she knew anything, he might just take her and torture the information out of her. Once, I might have been able to see it through – to watch an innocent girl die for the greater good.
But no longer. Now I was certain that I’d sacrifice everything to save her.
The sound of footsteps caught my attention and I raised my head to see Marc coming towards me. A barrier of magic snapped up around us. “What the bloody hell is going on?” he asked. “I just saw Angoulême walking down the street looking like he’d been offered the keys to the treasure room.”
I grimaced and stared at the tops of my boots. “More like the crown itself. He saw me with Cécile.”
“What of it?” Marc retorted. “No one can expect you to avoid her completely.”
“In a compromising position.”
“Oh.” Marc’s voice softened. “I see.”
“He knows, Marc,” I said. “He’s always suspected where my true sympathies lie, but now he knows the way to force my hand. He’ll use her, mark my words.”
“And if he does?”
I swallowed hard and looked up at my cousin, my best friend. The only person in this world I trusted, and even he did not know all my secrets. “I didn’t think this would happen,” I pleaded. “I didn’t think I would care for her this way…” I broke off. “I’m sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Marc said. “If you didn’t care about her life, then you wouldn’t be the man I thought you were.”
“It’s more than that.”
Marc chuckled. “Oh, I know. Trust me, I know. Now, where has she gotten off to?”
I raked my fingers through my hair. “She ran off. Angoulême told her I was having an affair with Anaïs.”
“But you’re not.”
“I know!” I snapped, my frustration rising. “But I couldn’t very well admit that in front of him.”
“Well, go find her now and tell her the truth!”
I raised my head, eyes drawn north towards the falls, her misery a magnet to my own. She must have run without stopping to be so far away.
Too far away.
I leapt to my feet.
“What is it? Has something happened?” There was alarm in Marc’s voice – he was fond of Cécile. He also knew better than most what would happen if she died.
My heart skittered and a wave of dizziness swept over me. “She’s in the labyrinth.”
CHAPTER 23
CéCILE
I jerked the gate open, locked it behind me, and broke into a run down the twisting corridors. My only hope now was speed.
I wasn’t afraid anymore, either. I was determined. The trolls would not catch me. The sound of the great waterfall faded in the distance and I was left with only the thud of my boots and the pant of my own breath. This was the easy part of my journey. These passages were the crumpled streets of abandoned Trollus, still smooth and easy to pass through. Once I reached the labyrinth proper, it would be a different story. It was with both relief and trepidation that I saw the narrow tunnel lying ahead, its opening black and menacing.
Dropping to my hands and knees, I shone my light inside, but it didn’t reach far enough to give me much comfort. I bit my lip and remembered what Marc had told me about the sluag. Sluag were neither stealthy nor cunning – if you listen, you will always hear them coming. I sucked in a deep breath and held it, listening. All I heard was the din of my heart. There was no telltale swish, swish and certainly not the thundering call of a sluag on the hunt.
I sat down on the cold stone floor, placing my light carefully on my lap, and I listened. To my mind, to my heart – call it what you will. I listened to Tristan’s emotions and tried to understand what he intended.
Desperation.
He had not, as I thought he would, instantly rounded up guards to track me down. The sharp pain I had felt under my ribs returned and I drew my knees up to my chest to try to ward it off. Tristan wasn’t coming. Disappointment chased away hope, and I forced myself to acknowledge the fact that I had hoped he would come after me. False hopes. Why shouldn’t he abandon me to the labyrinth? Whether I escaped or died trying, the result was the same – he would be free of me, the repulsive human. He’d be free to be with Anaïs. Able to claim that his aunt’s prophesy was nothing but ramblings and not worth taking seriously.
Fear.
That was there too, but of course it would be. His father would be angry that Tristan had allowed me to escape unbound by the oaths that kept Trollus secret from the outside world. But even the King’s anger would fade when they realized there would be no retribution from me. I just wanted to forget ever being here. I wanted to leave and let time wipe away the memory of Trollus and its people, and most of all, of Tristan.
Misery.
This was nothing new.
“I don’t care,” I whispered. “I refuse to care any longer.”
Sticking the leather handle of my light between my teeth, I got down on my belly and crawled into the tunnel.
CHAPTER 24
TRISTAN
“How?” Marc demanded. “It’s locked, and I have the only key.”
“She can pick locks,” I said, remembering our encounter in the corridor the night we were bonded.
“We need to go after her.” Marc turned to run, but I grabbed his arm, yanking him back. That had been my first instinct too, but was it the correct one?
“Wait.”
Marc swore. “What do you mean, wait? If we go now, we’ll catch her before anyone notices she’s gone.” His eyes widened as he realized what I was thinking. “You can’t seriously be considering letting her make the attempt? She’s unarmed and wearing a bloody gown and heels. She’ll fall and break her neck.”
I flinched, but kept my voice steady. “She’s wearing boots and she isn’t a silly parlor maid – she’s strong and clever. She can do this.”
Marc shoved me against a wall. “Have you lost your bloody mind? The labyrinth is deadly, even for one of us, and she’s just a girl.”
“No more deadly than it will be for her here.” I closed my eyes and listened, Cécile’s fear making my hands grow cold. Every inch of me yearned to go after her, to bring her back, keep her safe, and yet… “This is her chance, Marc. Her one chance to escape Trollus, and to escape me. If I stop her, she’ll only hate me for it.”
“Are you sure?”
I wasn’t sure. Indecision racked me to the core, but there were no good options. If I interfered with her escape, not only would she hate me for it, I was certain Angoulême would make an attempt on her life. If I let her continue into the labyrinth, I risked her being killed by any number of things. But if she escaped, she’d be safe. Grinding my teeth, I forced myself to sit down on the ground and remain still. There was no good choice, because no matter the outcome, one thing was certain: I was going to lose her.
“What reason have you given her to want to do that?”
“I asked myself the very same question,” Tristan said, rising to his feet.
“Did you come to any conclusions?”
Tristan raised both his hands and shrugged. “Tale as old as time, I suppose. Human women throwing themselves at our feet, blinded by beauty, power, wealth. No matter how they are used and abused, they always come back for more. Like loyal dogs.” He smirked. “Did you expect this one to be any different?”
In the past, his words had always been softened by the guilt he felt in saying them, but this time all I felt was vicious animosity. I tried to unravel his words – to see how I was different from those women – but I couldn’t. He did treat me poorly, and what had I just done if not thrown myself at his feet. My skin crawled with the realization of how pathetic that made me, but reason still governed my mind enough to know that I needed to play along; needed to play my part. “Is that what you think I am? A dog? Some poor beast you can pat on the head or kick in the ribs as suits your pleasure?”
Tristan laughed. “Not literally, of course. I’ve yet to hear you bark.”
It was too much.
I slapped him hard enough that my palm burned and my arm ached from the impact, but the pain was sweet. Raising my hand, I swung it again, but he caught my wrist, his motion so fast it seemed a blur. Fast enough that I knew he could have stopped my first blow if he’d wanted to.
“When a dog bites,” the Duke said softly, “you put it down.”
Tristan pulled me aside, stepping between me and the Duke. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Your Grace? Kill her on the chance I wouldn’t survive it? My brother – your ward – becomes heir to the throne. How long until my father suffers an untimely death and you become king of Trollus in all but name?”
“Big accusations, boy,” the Duke hissed. “And I confess, I find it more than a little ironic that you of all people dare to accuse me of treason.” He jabbed a long white finger against Tristan’s chest. “I know what you are, Your Highness, and where your true sympathies lie. When I find proof, it will be the end of you.”
“You’ll be looking for a long time, Your Grace,” Tristan said coolly, but I could feel the fury running through his veins. Fury and fear.
“Perhaps,” the Duke replied. His eyes raked over me and he smiled. “Tell me, Tristan, how does your pet human feel about your ongoing affair with Anaïs? Or does she really hate you so much that she doesn’t care?”
I staggered back, my veins filled with ice. “What do you mean ongoing?”
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Angoulême wrinkled his lip. “Where did you think he was going every night, girl? In my experience, there is only one thing that drives a man from a warm bed and that’s the bed of another.”
“Tristan, what is he talking about?” I asked, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. Shame mixed with fury seeped into my mind.
“Can’t even deny it, can you, boy?”
Tristan’s hands balled into fists, but he didn’t refute what Angoulême was saying. The pain of betrayal flooded through me. I’d trusted him. I’d put my fate in his hands thinking he was working to set me free, and the whole time he’d been sneaking off to meet with another girl. Worst of all, I’d thought he’d cared – that beneath the act necessitated by our circumstances he’d wanted things to be different. Wanted me.
Snatching up my skirts, I ran, my boots making faint slapping noises against the paving stones, the beam of my light bouncing as I raced through the winding back lanes of the city. Up and up the valley I went until I reached the waterfall, the spray dampening my dress as I stood staring up at the hole through which it fell. The Devil’s Cauldron, and I was in hell itself. Misery doused my anger like a bucket of water on flames, and I clenched a hand against the sharp pain rising up beneath my ribs. And the worst of it was that I knew I’d brought this pain upon myself. I’d been a fool to care about Tristan and doubly a fool to hope that he might feel the same for me.
I stood with my eyes closed, waiting for someone to tell me to step back from the edge of the waterfall and go back to the palace that was my prison. Then it dawned on me – I was alone. My eyelids snapped opened and I took stock of my situation. Tristan had dismissed my guards, and they hadn’t argued – why should they when Tristan was more than capable of controlling me? But Tristan hadn’t moved from the spot where I’d left him. If there was ever a chance, this was it.
Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I stared up the flight of stone steps that led to the gate and the shadows beyond. Sweat trickled down my back as I gazed up into the darkness. Turning, I stared down the valley towards the glowing city. There was nothing for me there. But if I made it through… I thought of my grandmother and the rest of my family. Of Sabine. The wide open spaces of the countryside. I remembered the heat of the sun on my face and the sweet pleasure of freedom. The choice was obvious.
Moving as fast as I dared, I felt my way up the steps until I reached the narrow platform and reached out for the cold bars. Fumbling around in my hair, I pulled a metal pin from my coiled locks. “Please work,” I whispered falling to my knees. Inserting the pin into the lock, I twisted it, waiting for the telltale click.
It stuck.
“Please, please, please,” I chanted, trying again.
Nothing. I glanced back at the city, half-expecting to see someone running up the steps to prevent my escape, but I was alone. Unlike the gate to the River Road, this entrance was devoid of any troll soldiers. The labyrinth needed no guardian. Its very nature was deterrent enough.
Gritting my teeth together, I jammed the hairpin back inside the lock and closed my eyes, working by touch. Then, with a click, the lock sprung open.
CHAPTER 22
TRISTAN
I slumped against the wall, head in my hands, stone digging into my spine. Everything was falling apart – Angoulême would not have been so open with his threats unless he was certain. The man was a cold-hearted devil, but no fool. It wouldn’t be long until he played his cards, and I was certain those cards would involve Cécile. If he thought the rewards worth it, he would not hesitate to break my father’s laws. Most likely it would be a threat against her life that would force me to reveal my plots or watch her die. And risk dying along with her. Or, if he thought she knew anything, he might just take her and torture the information out of her. Once, I might have been able to see it through – to watch an innocent girl die for the greater good.
But no longer. Now I was certain that I’d sacrifice everything to save her.
The sound of footsteps caught my attention and I raised my head to see Marc coming towards me. A barrier of magic snapped up around us. “What the bloody hell is going on?” he asked. “I just saw Angoulême walking down the street looking like he’d been offered the keys to the treasure room.”
I grimaced and stared at the tops of my boots. “More like the crown itself. He saw me with Cécile.”
“What of it?” Marc retorted. “No one can expect you to avoid her completely.”
“In a compromising position.”
“Oh.” Marc’s voice softened. “I see.”
“He knows, Marc,” I said. “He’s always suspected where my true sympathies lie, but now he knows the way to force my hand. He’ll use her, mark my words.”
“And if he does?”
I swallowed hard and looked up at my cousin, my best friend. The only person in this world I trusted, and even he did not know all my secrets. “I didn’t think this would happen,” I pleaded. “I didn’t think I would care for her this way…” I broke off. “I’m sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Marc said. “If you didn’t care about her life, then you wouldn’t be the man I thought you were.”
“It’s more than that.”
Marc chuckled. “Oh, I know. Trust me, I know. Now, where has she gotten off to?”
I raked my fingers through my hair. “She ran off. Angoulême told her I was having an affair with Anaïs.”
“But you’re not.”
“I know!” I snapped, my frustration rising. “But I couldn’t very well admit that in front of him.”
“Well, go find her now and tell her the truth!”
I raised my head, eyes drawn north towards the falls, her misery a magnet to my own. She must have run without stopping to be so far away.
Too far away.
I leapt to my feet.
“What is it? Has something happened?” There was alarm in Marc’s voice – he was fond of Cécile. He also knew better than most what would happen if she died.
My heart skittered and a wave of dizziness swept over me. “She’s in the labyrinth.”
CHAPTER 23
CéCILE
I jerked the gate open, locked it behind me, and broke into a run down the twisting corridors. My only hope now was speed.
I wasn’t afraid anymore, either. I was determined. The trolls would not catch me. The sound of the great waterfall faded in the distance and I was left with only the thud of my boots and the pant of my own breath. This was the easy part of my journey. These passages were the crumpled streets of abandoned Trollus, still smooth and easy to pass through. Once I reached the labyrinth proper, it would be a different story. It was with both relief and trepidation that I saw the narrow tunnel lying ahead, its opening black and menacing.
Dropping to my hands and knees, I shone my light inside, but it didn’t reach far enough to give me much comfort. I bit my lip and remembered what Marc had told me about the sluag. Sluag were neither stealthy nor cunning – if you listen, you will always hear them coming. I sucked in a deep breath and held it, listening. All I heard was the din of my heart. There was no telltale swish, swish and certainly not the thundering call of a sluag on the hunt.
I sat down on the cold stone floor, placing my light carefully on my lap, and I listened. To my mind, to my heart – call it what you will. I listened to Tristan’s emotions and tried to understand what he intended.
Desperation.
He had not, as I thought he would, instantly rounded up guards to track me down. The sharp pain I had felt under my ribs returned and I drew my knees up to my chest to try to ward it off. Tristan wasn’t coming. Disappointment chased away hope, and I forced myself to acknowledge the fact that I had hoped he would come after me. False hopes. Why shouldn’t he abandon me to the labyrinth? Whether I escaped or died trying, the result was the same – he would be free of me, the repulsive human. He’d be free to be with Anaïs. Able to claim that his aunt’s prophesy was nothing but ramblings and not worth taking seriously.
Fear.
That was there too, but of course it would be. His father would be angry that Tristan had allowed me to escape unbound by the oaths that kept Trollus secret from the outside world. But even the King’s anger would fade when they realized there would be no retribution from me. I just wanted to forget ever being here. I wanted to leave and let time wipe away the memory of Trollus and its people, and most of all, of Tristan.
Misery.
This was nothing new.
“I don’t care,” I whispered. “I refuse to care any longer.”
Sticking the leather handle of my light between my teeth, I got down on my belly and crawled into the tunnel.
CHAPTER 24
TRISTAN
“How?” Marc demanded. “It’s locked, and I have the only key.”
“She can pick locks,” I said, remembering our encounter in the corridor the night we were bonded.
“We need to go after her.” Marc turned to run, but I grabbed his arm, yanking him back. That had been my first instinct too, but was it the correct one?
“Wait.”
Marc swore. “What do you mean, wait? If we go now, we’ll catch her before anyone notices she’s gone.” His eyes widened as he realized what I was thinking. “You can’t seriously be considering letting her make the attempt? She’s unarmed and wearing a bloody gown and heels. She’ll fall and break her neck.”
I flinched, but kept my voice steady. “She’s wearing boots and she isn’t a silly parlor maid – she’s strong and clever. She can do this.”
Marc shoved me against a wall. “Have you lost your bloody mind? The labyrinth is deadly, even for one of us, and she’s just a girl.”
“No more deadly than it will be for her here.” I closed my eyes and listened, Cécile’s fear making my hands grow cold. Every inch of me yearned to go after her, to bring her back, keep her safe, and yet… “This is her chance, Marc. Her one chance to escape Trollus, and to escape me. If I stop her, she’ll only hate me for it.”
“Are you sure?”
I wasn’t sure. Indecision racked me to the core, but there were no good options. If I interfered with her escape, not only would she hate me for it, I was certain Angoulême would make an attempt on her life. If I let her continue into the labyrinth, I risked her being killed by any number of things. But if she escaped, she’d be safe. Grinding my teeth, I forced myself to sit down on the ground and remain still. There was no good choice, because no matter the outcome, one thing was certain: I was going to lose her.
