Stolen Songbird

CHAPTER 10

CéCILE

“Where are all my clothes?”

I jerked awake, knocking my elbow against the headboard. Any hopes of it all being a dream were dashed by the sight of Tristan, his arms full of colorful silk dresses, storming about the room. Both my maids and a grey-clad manservant stood in a row, their heads lowered. Covers tucked up around my shoulders, I watched Tristan dash into the closet and emerge with another armload of dresses. He threw them in a pile on the floor. “Why is my closet full of dresses?”

“Are they mine?” I asked with interest.

Silver eyes fixed on me. “Well, they certainly are not mine. Unless you imagine that I dress up in ladies’ clothing and prance about the palace when the mood strikes me?”

A giggle slipped out of Élise, which she promptly smothered with a hand over her mouth.

“You consider this a laughing matter?” Tristan glowered at the girl.

“Sorry, my lord,” she said. “Your clothes are in the other closet.”

“Why?”

“Her Grace thought the larger closet more appropriate for her ladyship’s gowns, my lord.”

“She did, did she?” He stormed back into the closet, returning with another armload. “That’s the last of them.”

“You are wrinkling my dresses,” I said. “Zoé and Élise will waste their entire day pressing them.”

“And then they can hang them somewhere else,” he snapped.

“You’re creating an enormous amount of unnecessary work.”

“It is the role of the aristocracy to create work,” he said, kicking the pile of gowns. “Necessary or otherwise. Without us, who knows what would happen to productivity.”

I rolled my eyes and climbed out of bed. Catching the corner of a sheet, I set to making the bed.

“What are you doing?” Tristan shouted.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Ladies do not make their own beds! It shows initiative, which is broadly considered most unladylike!”

My temper rising, I whirled about. “Dear me,” I shouted. “I must have forgotten that my new purpose in life is to create work.” Jerking all the blankets off the bed, I threw them on the floor. The pillows followed next, and I proceeded to run around the room taking all the cushions off the chairs and tossing them about the room. The last I deliberately aimed at Tristan’s head. It froze midair. “You are making quite the mess of my room.”

“Our room!” I shouted back.

“What is going on in here?” The Queen strode into the room, but it was her sister who had spoken. The Queen turned, as though out of habit, so that her sister was facing us.

“Explain to me why she must stay in my rooms,” Tristan demanded. “Surely we have the space to put her somewhere else?”

“She is your wife, Tristan. Keeping her in here with you will help remind you of your duties.”

“I am unlikely to forget them,” Tristan replied acidly. “And I would be willing to bet a great deal of gold that most men require only five, perhaps ten minutes maximum, to conduct their duties. Any longer is the business of romantics; and I dare say, I haven’t given you a reason to believe I have a single romantic bone in my body.”

“She’ll stay until I say otherwise, young man,” the Duchesse barked, crossing her arms. “And you’ll quit acting like a spoiled brat and start acting like a man.”

“I’ll act how I please!”

I smiled as I watched him storm out of the room. Only a heartbeat later, I realized his satisfaction mirrored my own. Which made no sense at all. I took in the room, which looked much as if a hurricane had passed through. In hindsight, it occurred to me that throughout his apparent tantrum, I’d never felt a bit of anger from him. An act, then. But to what purpose?

The Duchesse turned her attention to me. “Well? Is it done?”

Lie.

“Yes,” I mumbled, not having to fake my mortification.

“Good. You humans are as fertile as rabbits – perhaps a child is the key.”

Magic jerked my chin up. “They’ve predicted a large number of events in my day, girl,” she said. “They’ve never been wrong before. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I nodded, although I didn’t. Who were they? Wasn’t it the Duchesse who predicted the future?

“Good. Now why don’t you get dressed and go into the city. Buy yourself something pretty.”

“Is it safe, Your Grace?” Élise asked. “The riots…”

“Perfectly safe,” the Duchesse snapped. “The King has decreed that anyone who harms her will suffer the most extreme of punishments. The law secures her well-being. Besides, presenting her as a princess will demonstrate our continued faith in the accuracy of the prophesy. Help keep the mob quiet for a time.”

“I haven’t got any coin,” I mumbled. Nor did I think a new pair of shoes would compensate for the risk of a mob of angry trolls tearing me limb from limb. My gran always said it was the nature of people to resent those who had more than them. Parading me around in fancy clothes didn’t seem like the best way to earn me popularity.

The Duchesse smiled. “You are a princess now, Cécile. You have unlimited credit everywhere in the city. One of the girls will show you the best shops.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Élise murmured. “I heard a shipment of fine fabrics arrived this morning – perhaps her ladyship would like a new gown made.”

I glanced at the rainbow of dresses Tristan had scattered through the room. Why I’d need another was beyond me. Looking pretty would not keep me safe. A frown creased my brow, and I traced the silver tattoo lacing my fingers. At least I would be a well-dressed corpse.

“An excellent idea.” The Duchesse snapped her fingers. “Now leave us alone for a moment.” The girls darted out of the room.

“You’ve spirit in you, Cécile, just as I knew you would. No doubt you’ve put a substantial amount of thought towards how you might escape. Let me save you the effort – escape from Trollus is an impossibility. In my opinion, there are two ways this can go for you: either you curl up on the floor and wait to die, or you live each day for all it can give you. Little will be denied you here. Clothing, jewels, delicacies from the continent, are all yours for the taking.” She tilted her head. “An education, if you desire. Perhaps further training in the arts. You can become a great woman, Cécile. Or you can remain a prisoner. The choice is yours.”

“I understand,” I said, and watched as the Queen glided from the room. I could have everything in the world but the one thing I wanted. The Duchesse was wrong about my having only two options. I wouldn’t lie down and die, but neither would I give up on obtaining my liberty. I would live each day and fight for what mattered most: my freedom.

The city was marred with innumerable signs of the prior night’s riots. Everywhere I looked, there were grey-clad trolls collecting piles of shattered glass or loading chunks of broken rock into wagons that others pushed down the streets. Although the telltale troll-light hung over each troll’s head, they were all doing the work manually with brooms and shovels. “Wouldn’t it be faster to use magic?” I asked, clutching my glowing wineglass to my chest. No amount of cajoling on Élise’s part could have convinced me to leave it behind.

Élise glanced at the workers. “Certainly. If they had enough power to manage it. Which they don’t.”

“Oh,” I replied, trying not to stare at their downturned heads as we passed.

Dust motes hung in the light of the multitude of lamps, and the small amount of sun that peered in through the hole in the rock above was made all the more faint by the haze. The trolls in the streets hurried about in twos and threes, expressions alert and wary. There were not many of them considering the size of the city, but to me, Trollus seemed overcrowded and stifling, as though each individual needed ten times his physical space. It was a corked bottle ready to blow at any moment – the witch’s curse must be powerful indeed to keep it all contained.

The worst of it all, though, was the way the trolls reacted to my presence. I had expected dark looks, nasty comments, or even the odd rotten fruit tossed my direction. But after a few near collisions that required me to leap out of the way or risk being knocked down, I realized the trolls were content to pretend I did not exist. I was flanked by two hulking guardsmen whom Élise called Guillaume and Albert, but they ignored me as well, seemingly content to discuss what they’d eaten the prior evening and what they hoped would be served at tonight’s dinner hour. Even the dressmakers ignored me, directing all their questions to Élise. Which seemed to be going right to her head, because as time passed, she grew more and more bold and less deferential, until I started to doubt which of us was the servant.

“They are acting as though it’s all my fault,” I grumbled as we exited the shop where yet another troll had refused to acknowledge my existence. “It isn’t as though I was the one who cursed you lot to an eternity stuck in a hole.”

Élise made a face. “Don’t be ignorant – they are well aware of how powerless you are.”

“How powerless you are, my lady,” I corrected, giving her a sweet smile.

“You are very flippant for someone in your position, my lady,” she replied wryly. “I could hang you upside down from your ankles if I were so inclined.”

“Be my guest. No one would notice, and my feet feel like raw meat in these blasted shoes.”

“Oh, they’d notice,” she muttered. She began to speak very quietly, keeping an eye on our trailing guards, who seemed far more interested in the pink-frosted cakes they had purchased than in what we were saying. “The Montignys – the royal family,” she began, “they shocked everyone by bonding His Highness to you. Everyone expected them to lock you up in a closet when the bonding failed to break the curse, but instead they have you parading about in front of everyone as though you actually are a princess.” She chuckled softly. “Now they’re all waiting to see how the great houses react – whether they will support your existence or not.” She gestured discreetly at the passing trolls. “They aren’t ignoring you – they are merely waiting to see what side of the table those they are sworn to will sit at.”

“When will that be?” I asked, looking over my shoulder at the women who had just walked by.

“Soon,” Élise said. “Though you might find yourself wishing they had taken their time. Now enough questions. Put your head up. Walk like you belong here.”

Ignoring my complaints, Élise paraded me up and down the streets and in and out of shops until my blisters popped. The only advantage the excursion provided was that it allowed me to quickly gain my bearings within the city. The labyrinth gate was on the northwest side of the river, as was the palace and what looked to be the homes of wealthier citizens. While it was too dark for me to see where the crest of the valley met the rock above, Élise explained that the rubble of destroyed homes had been cleared in centuries past, and any openings to the labyrinth sealed up with stone and mortar.

“Why?” I asked, curious as to why they would isolate themselves any further than necessary.

“To keep the sluag out,” she said. “But they are always trying to find ways into the city, and sometimes they break through. Their venom is deadly – even to one of us.”

I shivered, remembering the massive white bulk of the monster rearing up in the dark.

“You needn’t worry yourself… my lady. It is a rare occurrence, and every household keeps a steel sluag spear, just in case. There is one in the corner of His Highness’s room, if you are interested in examining one of them.”

“Doesn’t the magic that holds the rocks up keep them out?” I asked.

“The tree?” Élise glanced at me sharply. “No. It doesn’t.”

“Why is it called a tree?”

“A legacy from what it used to look like,” she gestured upwards. “Single trunk with branches spreading out.”

“Oh.” I frowned at the black cavernous space looming above our heads. “What does it look like now?”

“Not like a tree. It is a far more complicated structure in its current form.”

“Where does the magic come from?”

“You mean who,” she replied, and I blinked. “Magic comes from within,” she explained. “So what you should have asked is who the magic comes from.”

I opened my mouth to ask just that question when Élise interrupted me. “This is Artisan’s Row,” she said. “Perhaps you would like to go in to view some of their work?” She gestured towards the entrance to one of the shops.

I nodded, although her tone implied it was more of an order than a question. I didn’t want to waste my time inside any of the stores –I wanted to go to the base of the valley. There had to be a way for the river to flow out of the city and to the ocean, and if there was a way for water to escape, perhaps there was a way for me to get out as well. But Élise seemed intent on my seeing the contents of the shop, and it was probably better if she believed that I was aimlessly following her through the city with no purpose of my own.

A bell chimed as I pushed open the door and stepped into the well-lit shop. The proprietor curtseyed deeply, but I focused on the woman who did not. Brown eyes regarded me with curiosity.

“You aren’t a troll!” I blurted out.

“Neither,” the woman replied, “are you.”

The proprietor of the store grimaced but interestingly, didn’t ignore me. “My lady, this is Esmeralda Montoya. She is a trader of fine goods.”

One of the woman’s eyebrows arched upwards. “My lady? I must say, I’ve heard the trolls call us humans any number of things, but generally speaking, none of them are so polite. You must be the girl they bonded to His Royal Highness.”

I gave a faint nod.

“By choice?”

“No.”

Esmeralda shook her head, her brow furrowing. Although she was dressed in men’s clothing, the fabrics looked expensive and she wore no small amount of jewelry. Her business with the trolls was clearly a lucrative one. “And now you are caught in the midst of the rival politics of a place you probably didn’t even know existed,” she said.

“I was supposed to break the curse,” I said. “Otherwise, I know nothing of the politics involved.”

“When it comes to the curse, there are no politics, no sides,” she said. “It is the one thing that unites all trolls – their desire to be free of this place.”

I frowned, remembering Tristan’s reaction to our failure to break the curse, and how it had been decidedly contrary to the sentiment of the crowd. “If they are united,” I said, “then I fail to see how I can be caught in the middle.”

Esmeralda opened her mouth to speak, but the proprietor interrupted. “You overstep yourself, Montoya. One would have thought you’d have learned to keep your mouth shut by now.”

“So report me to the trade magister,” Esmeralda replied, not looking overly concerned about the prospect. “Though of what you’d accuse me is a mystery to me.”

“Meddling.” The troll planted her hands on her hips.

“I hadn’t realized that was a crime.” One corner of Esmeralda’s mouth quirked up. “Why don’t you do me a favor, Reagan, and leave us to our conversation.”

“A favor?” The troll’s face perked up. “In exchange for what?”

“Ill-nurtured harpy!” Esmeralda swore. “The pox on you lot and your favors. What do you want?”

Reagan grinned. “The pox is of little concern to me, Montoya.” She rubbed her hands together. “A promise that you will grant me a moderate-sized favor of my choosing.”

“A small favor.”

The troll shook her head. “She is the wife of the heir to the throne. This is no small thing.” A dark smile touched her lips. “His Majesty has hanged you humans for less.”

I gasped, but Esmeralda didn’t blink. “A quick enough death, in the scheme of things.”

“For you, perhaps,” Reagan said, rubbing her hands together. “You are a fragile creature, human.” Her gaze flickered past me to Élise. “Tell me, girl, how long did it take for the last half-breed to die? How long did he hang from the noose, his better half clinging to life while his human half dragged him towards death?”

The silence grew and I shuddered.

“Six days,” Reagan said, answering her own question. “And I rather think one of his fellow sympathizers put him out of his misery.” She chuckled. “In fact, I think I’ve reconsidered. It will take a large favor for me to excuse myself from this conversation.”

Esmeralda’s voice was grim. “And buy your silence that a conversation took place at all.”

The troll considered the arrangement and nodded. “Done.”

A prickle of power ran across my skin and, without another word, she hobbled awkwardly towards the back room, bright yellow skirts brushing against the cane she used.

“You should have negotiated specifics,” Élise said tonelessly. “Leaving it open-ended was a large concession.”

The whole exchange was disturbing and bizarre to me, which must have been apparent to the others by the expression on my face. “Trolls value favors even more than they value gold,” Esmeralda explained. “When they make a promise to do something, they must fulfill it, no matter what the cost to them, which is why they almost never promise anything for nothing.”

“You cannot break a promise to a troll, Aunty,” Élise warned. “She will extract her pound of flesh when you least expect it, mark my words.”

I blinked. “You’re related?” And what could be so important to tell me that was worth the bargain that had just taken place?

“Aye,” Esmeralda admitted. “My fool of a sister fell in love with one of them. Only good thing to come of it was the girls.”

“She married a troll willingly?” I could not keep the astonishment from my voice. She’d told me trolls couldn’t marry humans, but how else…

“Not married,” she replied. “It is forbidden for a troll to bond a human. What goes on behind closed doors, though, that is more difficult for them to monitor.” She winked, and I looked away, uncomfortable.

“If it is forbidden, then why did Tristan bond me?”

“As I said, they will stop at nothing to break the curse.”

“I would marry you to a sheep if it would set us free” the King’s words echoed in my mind. “They don’t have much regard for humans, do they?”

“Much?” demanded Esmeralda. “Try none. They see us as little more than animals; see the children of troll-human unions as abominations that deserve nothing more than abject slavery. They hate humans. They tolerate us only because they need our trade to survive.”

“Not all trolls think that,” Élise said softly.

“The ones who matter do. The aristocracy.” Esmeralda spat on the floor. “Twisted creatures, as no doubt you’ve seen. They won’t even lower themselves to bonding a troll commoner. Instead, they insist on picking and choosing amongst each other and the result is a palace full of inbred monsters. Deformed, sickly, insane – but powerful.”

I thought of Marc’s twisted face, constantly shrouded in darkness, and a shudder ran through me.

“Aunty, you’re scaring her,” Élise said.

“Good – she should be terrified. This is her reality now, and she needs to understand the politics if she is to be of any help.”

“Aunt Esmeralda!”

The tension between the two was palpable. I was no fool – it had become clear that Élise had brought me here to speak to her aunt, but it seemed the conversation had gone beyond what she had intended.

“Help with what?” I demanded.

“You’re supposed to keep her out of things, not involve her more!” Élise hissed angrily.

“Quit talking about me as though I’m not even here,” I snapped. “You’ve clearly brought me here to tell me something, so get on with it.”

Esmeralda and Élise glared at each other, but eventually the younger woman conceded. “Do as you want. You always do.”

Her aunt nodded and leaned closer to me, her voice barely above a whisper. “There is a small faction within Trollus pushing for better treatment of those with mixed blood – equality, even. As it stands, any child less than pure blood is born into servitude. They are owned by the noble or the guild who owns the mother – or in the rare instance one of the parents is a full-blooded troll, they are auctioned to the highest bidder when they turn fifteen, and the money goes to the crown. They are traded like animals until they have grown too old to be useful and then they are left in the labyrinth as fodder for the sluag.”

I shivered, the memory of my own flight from the sluag fresh in my mind. I had always had the hope of getting out – I could not even fathom what it would feel like to know that no matter how fast you ran or how well you might hide, escape was futile. For trolls, there was no way out.

“Some don’t even last that long,” Esmeralda said softly. “I’ve heard of girls as young as fifteen sent to their deaths for spilling soup on their lady’s skirts.” She pointed a finger at me. “The Montoya family is wealthy and powerful. I will not stand by and watch while my sister’s daughters are relegated to the servant class, or worse, food for an overgrown slug, because of antiquated perceptions.”

“I can understand that,” I said, crossing my arms against the chill. “But I don’t understand what you expect me to do about it. I have no power here.”

“The very fact that the trolls have allowed one of their own to bond a human – and a Montigny prince at that – is coup enough in itself. Not for five centuries has a human held any position of power with them. And you, you will be queen one day – your half-blood children will be the heirs to the throne.” Her eyes glittered with excitement.

I had precisely zero intention of letting matters get that far, but Esmeralda was the first person I’d met in Trollus willing to give me straight answers, so I was more than willing to hear her out.

“I don’t see how you have any hope of changing things,” I said, hoping my dismissal of her plans might force her to reveal more. “What can a handful of mixed bloods and a few humans do against that kind of magic?”

“Not just a handful,” she replied. “There are more sympathizers to the cause than you can imagine.”

“But do any of them have any power?”

Esmeralda opened her mouth to speak but then snapped it shut again.

“Just as I thought,” I said, my frustration growing. “I am sympathetic to your troubles, but I have just been bonded to one of those you want to overthrow. I’d be a fool to conspire against him.” I bit my lip after the words came out, realizing that I was perhaps being too hasty. If this force of sympathizers was actually a force to be reckoned with, there was a chance they might be willing to help me. Maybe they would be able to send word to my family. I chewed the inside of my cheeks, considering the risks. If I got caught, the King would have me watched more closely and I would lose any chance of escape. And who knew what sort of punishment I would receive for conspiring with those who plotted against him. Or what he would do to them, if he discovered they were trying to help me. As much as I might pretend otherwise, what Esmeralda had told me about the half-bloods’ situation in Trollus had roused a great deal of indignation in me. I hated the King and so did they: it seemed a good enough reason for me to ally myself with their side.

“I am under a great deal of scrutiny right now,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “But I will consider what you have told me. And if there is a way I can help…”

The bell on the door jingled and we all jumped. Albert leaned inside. When he saw Esmeralda, his expression darkened. “What are you doing here?”

“Negotiating with Reagan,” Esmeralda said.

“Where is she, then?”

“I’m here.” The troll appeared from the back, limping slowly across the room.

“I need you to come outside, my lady,” he said. “You aren’t supposed to consort with humans.”

Reluctantly, I followed him out of the shop, Élise trailing at my heels. The city streets were as they had been before, filled with trolls going about their business, but I began to see them with a whole new set of eyes. Those dressed in grey were marked with the small differences I’d first seen in Zoé and Élise: lighter hair; flushed skin; and, most importantly, human eyes. Where only a half hour past I had felt invisible, now I caught furtive glances from the downcast faces of those cleaning the streets and from those carrying parcels behind the brightly clad ladies. A great and entirely unwanted burden descended on my shoulders. They were expecting me to help them.

“My lady?” Albert had stopped eating and was watching me with the first bit of interest he’d shown all day. I realized I was standing in the middle of the intersection, forcing traffic to go around me.

“One moment,” I whispered. Closing my eyes, I turned slowly like a compass searching for north. When I opened them, I was staring across the river valley. A tall figure dressed in black stood staring back across at me, hand resting on his sword hilt. There was nothing that greatly distinguished him from all the rest, but I knew instinctively it was Tristan.

“Élise?” My voice sounded hoarse.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Who… owns you?”

A long pause. “His Highness does.” Her fingers plucked at the black and white sash at her waist, and for the first time, I noticed the letters embroidered on it: TdM. She was monogrammed just like Tristan’s shirts. A possession.

“And Zoé too?” I asked.

“Yes. The Montigny family owns three hundred and twenty-one individuals, at present.”

“At present,” I repeated. A steady pounding grew in my ears, and my fingers twitched with the urge to lash out, at anything or anyone. “Does that figure include me?”

Élise’s hand flew to her chest. “No,” she stammered. “Of course not!”

“Spare me the lies!” I hissed, my grip tightening around the stem of my wineglass. Whirling around, I opened my mouth to scream my hatred across the valley. Tristan was gone. My head jerked back and forth spasmodically as I searched the opposite shore for his tall form, but he had blended into the crowd.

Laughter caught my attention, and I spun around to see crumbs falling from Albert and Guillaume’s frosting smeared lips as they chortled at me. “Where is he? Where is he?” they pantomimed me, spinning in circles.

No one on the street ignored us now. Every which way I looked, trolls were exchanging amused smirks with each other.

Élise reached for me. “You’re making a fool of yourself!”

Something inside me snapped.

I threw my wineglass against the paving stones. It smashed, and the magic sent bits of glass flying up into the air. Élise jumped back and collided hard with the two guards. Despite knowing there was no chance of escape, I bolted.

No one stopped me.

I wove through the alleyways and streets, making my way steadily down the hill towards the river. I concentrated on the sound of the water – the river had to flow out somewhere. I was a strong swimmer. If I could just make it to the water, there was a chance of escape.

I kicked off my shoes and ran barefoot down a back lane, swung right, and cursed as I came up against a stone wall. Wheeling around, I backtracked the way I’d come. A dark shadow stood at the entrance to the street, ball of troll-light hanging ominously behind him. His chuckle reached my ears, seeming to bounce off the walls, assaulting me from all directions. I ran back to the wall and jumped, my fingers just catching the edge. Legs tangling in my skirts, I heaved an ankle over the edge and slipped over the other side.

“Run, run, run, little girl.” Laughter chased my footsteps as I staggered forward.

“Do you really think you can get away?” The question came from above. I looked up and saw Guillaume sitting on the edge of a roof, leaning back on his hands with ankles crossed. A shudder ran through me. They were toying with me, like a pair of cats with a mouse.

But I was no mouse.

Kicking in the backdoor of a house, I felt my way through the dark until I found the front entrance, which I flung open but didn’t exit. Instead, I concealed myself behind a curtain near the opening. Boots thudded against the paving stones near the door.

“You see which way she went?”

“Through the house,” came the muffled reply. “She didn’t come out.”

I held my breath as steps came closer, into the house, and past the curtain where I was hidden.

“Must be hiding. Check upstairs.”

I waited a few moments more and then slunk out from behind the curtain. A gleam of light came from the other room. Stepping softly, I crept towards the front door. Through the doorway, I had seen the bridge stretching over the river only a few yards away. I could make it if I was quick.

Feet slapping against the cold ground, I darted across the street, ran up the curved arch of the bridge and clambered up on the railing. Water surged beneath me, icy spray rising up from where the river smashed against the buttresses. I took a deep breath. I could do this.

“Cécile, no!”

As I leapt into the air, I saw Élise standing on a footpath near the river’s edge. Then I was falling, and the realization that I had made a grave error filled me with terror as the water approached. A scream tore from my throat, but cut off abruptly as something lashed around my waist and hurled me upwards. I landed on my back in the center of the bridge to the sound of a splash from below.

Using the bridge railing for support, I hauled myself upwards in time to see a grey-clad figure being swept downstream.

“There she is!” My guards had apparently realized I was no longer in the house.

“Help her!” I screamed, pointing at the water. “Élise fell in the river!”

Guillaume’s face twisted with indecision, but in a heartbeat, he was running towards the water.

Albert started up the bridge. Snatching up my skirts, I ran down the other side and into the crowded marketplace.

Trolls and half-bloods grudgingly made way as I pushed through, not certain where I was going, but knowing I couldn’t stop. Then a familiar voice caught my attention.

“Be another week or two, I expect. Thaw was late this year.”

I started walking faster, my eyes searching until I found what I was looking for. A blond head amongst a crowd of black-haired trolls. Next to him was a mule I’d seen countless times before. But the shock of seeing him in Trollus was overwhelmed by the hope that he might somehow be my salvation. Snatching my skirts up, I broke into a run. “Christophe!” I shouted. “Chris!”

The blond-haired boy turned and his eyes widened in shock at seeing me. “Cécile?” I flung my arms around his neck. He smelled like horses and hay and sunshine – like everything I knew.

“God in heaven!” he gasped. “What are you doing here? Everyone is looking for you – we found your horse in our fields and signs of a struggle in the woods.”

“Luc took me,” I choked out, burying my face in his neck and inhaling the smell of home. “He sold me to them. You need to help me. You need to tell my brother. You need to take me home.” I was babbling, I knew, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “Help me, Chris. Please!”

He grew still, his arms tight around my waist. Raising my face, I saw that all around us trolls were watching with angry faces. Albert pushed his way through the crowd, his face twisted with a dark scowl. Everyone backed away, giving him room.

“Get away from her, human,” he snarled.

Chris set me down between him and the wagon. “I don’t think so.”

“It wasn’t a request, stupid boy.” Albert stalked towards us, his smooth movement at odds with his bulk.

There was a commotion in the crowd and a soaking wet Élise stepped through. She darted around Albert and hurried over to me.

“You must stop this madness, Cécile,” she gasped out, wet strands of hair clinging to her face. “You are going to get people killed!”

“Stay away from her, you nasty creature!” Chris swatted at Élise. She ducked under his hand easily, but the damage was done.

Albert roared an inhuman word and Chris was launched up in the air, then slammed against the ground.

Shrieking, I grabbed hold of him, trying to stop the invisible force, but I was powerless against it. Both of us were shaken in the air like rag dolls in the mouth of a maniacal hellhound.

“Don’t hurt her!” Élise shouted.

Abruptly, I was torn away from Chris and landed in a heap next to the wagon.

Chris remained locked in Albert’s magic, which now had him pressed hard against the paving stones.

“Let me go!” he bellowed, squirming ineffectually against his invisible bonds.

“Kill him!” someone in the crowd shouted. “He broke the laws!”

“Kill the human,” another chimed in. “Slit his throat!”

Chris’s oaths abruptly broke off, his face turning red. “I prefer smothering,” Albert said to the crowd with a smile. “Less mess.”

“It is the duty of the trade magister to pass sentence!” Élise’s voice was strong. “You overstep your authority.”

“Stay out of this, Élise,” Albert said. “I would not want to see you hurt.”

“What is going on here?” The crowd parted and Tristan sauntered over, pausing to pat the mule on the nose.

I flung myself at his feet. “Make them stop – they’re killing him.”

“I see that,” he said. “I assume he did something to deserve it. Guillaume?”

“Took a swipe at Miss Élise, and,” he added, raising his voice, “he disrespected me.”

“Is that so?” Tristan raised one eyebrow. “One can hardly imagine why.”

“He…” the guard started to respond, but Tristan interrupted.

“Yes, yes, Albert. I believe you. Now would you mind…” He brushed at his mouth.

“Oh!” Albert dragged a sleeve across his face, removing most of the pink frosting. “Sorry, my lord.”

“Much better,” Tristan said. “It is always important to look the part when you are about to do something nefarious. You were really ruining the effect.” He ignored my attempts to get his attention. My eyes searched the crowd for someone, anyone, who might help. But all the half-bloods had retreated. I saw Chris’s father, hands balled into fists and eyes wide with fear. He stood at the edge of the crowd, but he wasn’t watching his dying son. He was watching Tristan.

“Who wants to see the human boy killed for his insolence?” Tristan shouted.

“Kill him!” the crowd shouted.

I reached for the dagger at his waist, intent on burying it in his gut if that’s what it took. He caught my wrist, holding it still.

“Who wants to see his blood run through the streets?” he shouted over their cheering voices.

“Kill the human!” they screamed.

“Who wants to suffer through another famine?”

Silence.

“Just as I thought,” Tristan said, his voice carrying through the crowd. The hand holding my wrist twitched and I heard Chris gasp behind me, Albert’s magic vanquished.

I jerked out of Tristan’s grasp and scrambled on hands and knees to Chris’s side. “Are you all right?” I whispered.

“Yes.” His voice was raspy, but the redness was fading from his face. “He’s a devil, that one,” he whispered. “The worst of them – you should hear the things he says. The rumors of what he does to those who cross him.”

I frowned. “He just saved your life.”

Chris’s lip curled back, his teeth showing. “Listen.”

“These humans are our tools,” Tristan lectured to the crowd. “Until someone can teach the mule to grow crops and load his own wagon, we must rely on creatures with at least a modicum more intelligence to do the work.”

“I’ll get you out,” Chris said, hand rising to grip my shoulder. “Whatever it takes, I promise I’ll get you out of here.”

“You all know my feelings about humanity,” Tristan shouted. “But that does not mean I do not recognize their usefulness. If I cut my finger on a good blade, I don’t melt it down out of spite!”

“Listen to him prattle on,” Chris hissed. “Treating us like animals!”

“Shut your fool mouth!” His father had pushed his way to our sides. I flinched as he cuffed Chris across the head. “I swear your mother must have dallied with another man because I’ll never understand how I fathered a boy as daft as you.”

Jérôme caught my wrist, eyes running over the silver marks tracing my fingers. “Lord in heaven, I never believed I would see the day.” He gripped my hand tightly. “Listen to me, Cécile, and listen well. You’ve landed yourself in a pit of vipers, each one slyer and deadlier than the next. They are incapable of lying, but that does not mean they cannot deceive.” He pulled me closer and I could smell the sweat of hard labor on his skin. “Actions speak louder than words – remember that!”

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. They were leaving me here – I could see it in Jérôme’s eyes.

“You’re a smart girl, Cécile. You’ll figure it out.”

Fingers closed around my arm, heat burning through the sleeve of my dress. Tristan unceremoniously hauled me to my feet. “Jérôme, it would be best if you left as soon as possible. I trust your next visit will be less eventful. And you.” He glared at me. “You and I are going to have words about this.”

I sensed his agitation and prudence warned me against dragging my feet. With his hand latched on my arm, I followed him through the streets. The guards and the dripping Élise came too, but I did not fail to notice the distance they kept.

“There,” Tristan snapped. “That is the River Road. I assume that was your intended destination with that idiotic stunt?”

At the end of the valley was an almost sheer rock face that rose up into the darkness above. Two tunnels bisected the river, water flowing down each. The tunnel on the right was open, but had only a narrow footpath leading off into the darkness. The tunnel on the left was lit with troll-light, but thick steel bars stood as a barricade. In front of the gate stood four trolls, two facing the tunnel and two facing away. They were heavily armored, faces stern and unyielding.

But what stole my attention, and my breath, were the heavy steel bars through which the river flowed. They were so tightly spaced that only a fish might pass through, and the river slammed against them with deafening force. If I had made it into the river, running up against those would almost surely have killed me instantly. Élise had saved my life, and risked her own in the process.

Tristan carried on, seemingly oblivious to my thoughts. “The River Road tunnel and the gated entrance to the labyrinth are the only ways in and out of Trollus. Only oath-sworn and thrice-proven traders may use the River Road. One oath prevents them from speaking about Trollus outside the witch’s boundaries. The other oath prevents them from undertaking any action that might jeopardize Trollus or its citizens. These are magic oaths, utterly and completely binding. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” My voice was weak, because I understood. What he was saying was that there was no way for Chris or any other human to rescue me or bring me aid from outside. Even though countless farmers in the surrounding area might know I was here, not one of them could tell my family where I was. “Why wasn’t I brought this way?”

“Because your friend Luc is a greedy bastard who will never earn the right to walk that road,” Tristan replied, his eyes darkening.

“There are four rules that all traders must follow while they are in Trollus, but they are not magically binding. The first is that they are subservient to any and all trolls. The second is that no human male may touch a troll woman, whether it is against her will or not. And, as my wife, that includes you, in case you were curious. Three, all humans are forbidden to lie while they are in Trollus, so I suggest you don’t get caught at it; and four, no human may charge more than market rate for any good or service. The punishment for violating any of these rules can be, and often is, death.”

“Why aren’t they magically binding?” I asked in a whisper.

“Because my father is a sadistic villain with a taste for blood, human or otherwise!” Tristan exploded. He cast a backward glance at our followers and added more quietly, “The oaths used to be magically binding, but that didn’t provide much sport, if you understand my meaning.”

“God in heaven,” I whispered.

“I cannot say whether your God exists or not, Cécile, but if he does, he has turned his back on this place. Darker powers rule Trollus.” He stared at the water rushing through the rock. “To be bound is a burden, but it is the actions we freely take that cause us the most pain.” He said the last nearly under his breath, but it was impossible to miss the sudden jolt of anguish.

My eyes widened and I shuddered. If what Tristan was saying was true, Chris had broken two rules, both of them unwittingly and both because of me. Almost as though he could read my mind, Tristan said, “What happened today was your doing, Cécile. If you value the lives of your fellow humans, I suggest you don’t let it happen again.”

Abruptly, he let go of me and walked down the street. He paused in front of Albert and Guillaume. “I know what you did to her today.” His voice was monotone and steady, making his words far more ominous than if he had shouted. “It was ill-considered.”

The two guards exchanged uneasy looks.

“She is bound to me,” Tristan continued. “Which means that what she feels, I feel.” His fingers rested on the hilt of his sword. “When you hurt her, you hurt me. Why the hell else do you think my father passed a law against harming her?”

The two trolls fell to their knees. “We did not think, my lord.”

“No,” Tristan said. “But then, you rarely do.” He looked over his shoulder. “Élise, take her back to the palace and keep her there for the rest of the day. I don’t want any more incidents.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Élise curtsied.

“And Élise,” he added. “When lifting something heavy, with magic or otherwise, it is best to ensure one has good footing. Nevertheless, it was well done.”

A gold coin flipped through the air, and she snagged it with one hand and took hold of my arm with the other. “Come with me.”

“What is he going to do to them?” I asked once we were out of earshot.

“Nothing they don’t deserve.”

“I hate him,” I said, my voice sounding hollow and distant in my ears. “He’s evil and wicked, just like his father.”

Élise leaned closer to me, close enough that I could feel her breath on my ear. “If that were true, your friend would be dead.”

Everything snapped back into focus.

Taking my arm, Élise pulled me along with more strength than someone her size should possess. “We need to go back to the palace.”

I went with her, but her comment unnerved me. Only moments ago, I was certain that how I’d seen Tristan behave was proof of what Esmeralda had told me about the troll nobility – that he was human-hating and evil. Now I wasn’t so sure. He’d shown no regard for Chris’ life, but Élise was correct – Chris was still alive. Alive, even though he’d broken rules that carried a death sentence.

And then there were Jérôme’s actions to consider. I tried to focus and replay the events in my mind, but everything had happened so quickly. Jérôme had looked afraid, but not as panicked as a father about to lose his son should be. It was obvious Albert was the one smothering Chris, but Jérôme’s eyes had been fixed on Tristan. Why? Was it merely because he knew enough about the trolls to know that Tristan had the power to pass sentence, or was it because he knew that Tristan would save his son?

Actions speak louder than words.

A common enough saying, to be sure, but what had Jérôme meant by it? Had he meant that Tristan’s sparing Chris’ life meant more than the human-hating drivel that he had been spouting? But Tristan was a troll – he had to tell the truth, so I couldn’t discount his words. He had to mean what he said, didn’t he? Otherwise, wasn’t he telling a lie?

I spent the rest of the afternoon alone in Tristan’s rooms with Élise’s fading light, which gave me time to think and, more importantly, time to snoop. I was looking for something that would give me some insight into the Prince’s mind, whatever that might be. There was something about him that didn’t add up. My hands hesitated on the stack of old invitations through which I was rifling as I tried to recollect his precise words.

“You all know my feelings about humanity…”

Or at least thought they knew. His words were hardly a declaration – merely an affirmation of everyone’s conceptions about him. Or misconceptions?

“You’re grasping, Cécile,” I muttered. I set the stack of cards back where I’d found them and pushed the drawer closed. It jammed. “Darn it!” I pulled the drawer back open and bent down to see what had caught. It was another card. Careful not to tear it, I extracted the thick red paper and skimmed the black cursive script. It was an invitation to the eighth birthday of His Royal Highness, Prince Roland de Montigny. Tristan had a younger brother.

“Looking for something?”

Jerking upright, I unsuccessfully tried to wipe the guilty expression from my face. Zoé stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. “You didn’t eat your dinner.”

My eyes flickered to the untouched tray sitting on the table. “I wasn’t hungry.”

“He won’t appreciate you rooting about in his things. His Highness is very private.”

“I wasn’t rooting about in his things,” I said quickly. “I was only looking for some paper.”

“They just roll off your tongue don’t they,” she said bitterly. “The lies. The worthless promises. How anyone would dare trust a human is beyond me.”

My back stiffened. “A bit of the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t you say? You lot are the deceitful ones, all vying for control over your little cage. What was your sister even thinking, bringing me to meet your aunt and trying to get me mixed up in your schemes? I didn’t choose to be here. In case you need reminding, I was kidnapped. The last thing I need is to make my circumstances worse!” I stopped talking when I realized the room had gone eerily silent – even the ever present sound of the waterfall was absent.

“A ward against eavesdroppers,” Zoé snapped. “You nearly got my sister killed once today – I don’t want her sent into the labyrinth because you can’t keep your fool mouth shut.”

“No one can hear us,” I snapped back. “Besides, who would want to listen in on me anyway.”

She strode over to the wall, pulled aside a tapestry and pointed at a hole neatly drilled in the wall. “This wasn’t here yesterday.”

My skin prickled and I had to fight the urge to rip everything off the walls to find any other peepholes that might exist.

“Élise shouldn’t have trusted you – she’s delusional, blinded by hope.” To my amazement, Zoé slid down the wall and sat on the floor. “There is no hope,” she whispered. “You didn’t break the curse. Any hope we might have had of breaking free of our bondage is gone.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“You don’t understand anything.” She closed her eyes. “They will never condescend to release us from slavery, and as long as we are cursed, we dare not attempt to force them. Magic holds the mountain up – magic of a strength that only the most powerful of the great families possess. If we destroy them, we gain our freedom only for the length of time it takes all that rock to fall down upon our heads.”