Stolen Songbird: Malediction Trilogy Book One (The Malediction Trilogy) (13 page)

“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.”

CHAPTER 11

 

“There is always hope.” Even as I said the words, I knew how hollow they sounded. The half-bloods were trapped like rats on a sinking ship. “Maybe they’ll change.”

“Not in this lifetime.”

Silence hung between us, then abruptly, she climbed to her feet. “I’m sorry, my lady. I should not have burdened you.” Looking around the room, she crinkled her nose. “I need to straighten things up before he returns.”

Now that she had mentioned it, it was more than a little obvious what I had been about.

“Have the guard take you to the glass gardens. They’re walled in – no one will trouble you there.”

And there was no way for me to get into trouble, either.

“And here, I meant to give this to you straight away.” She handed me a dark green envelope. Inside was a green and gold invitation. “Lord Marc is throwing me a party,” I said slowly, once I had read and reread the inscription.

Zoé nodded. “Then it begins.” She pointed towards the door and the sound of the waterfall returned, making me jump. “Go for a walk,” she said. “It will help clear your head.”

 

I was no small amount surprised to discover Albert standing guard outside the door.

“I didn’t expect to see you again,” I said, tilting my head back so I could look him in the eye.

He frowned. “Why is that?”

Perhaps because you chased me through the city and then almost killed one of my dearest friends. And put a bee in the bonnet of His Royal Crankiness in the process. “Never mind,” I grumbled. “Take me to the glass gardens.”

He led me through the maze of quiet palace corridors and out an entrance in the rear.

“The paths are lit,” he said. “Don’t wander off them.”

I set off, the white gravel on the pathway crunching beneath my feet. On either side rose glass hedgerows, each branch and leaf blown with exquisite attention to detail, guiding me towards the center of the garden. I paused from time to time to examine delicate flowers, bushes, and even trees that soared beyond the pools of light cast by the widely spaced lampposts. There was beauty all around me, but it was like walking in any garden in the darkness of night – I had no sense of the whole, only the little pieces revealed by too few circles of light.

The garden was like the whole city of Trollus – shrouded in mystery but for the few snippets of information revealed by those seeking to use me. Part of me wanted to turn my back on their problems – I wasn’t the one cursed to this place.

But another part of me was drawn to the half-blood’s conundrum. It seemed unsolvable: on one hand, they had abject slavery, and on the other, almost certain death. What would I choose, if the choice were mine?

Out of habit, I began to sing to relieve my frustration. Softly at first, but my voice was drowned out by the endless roar of the waterfall, so I sang louder. I could sing over a full orchestra, but tonight I fought the waterfall for supremacy. I walked until I found a gazebo, and it became my stage. I chose the powerful pieces belonging to heroic women, my heart hammering and my lungs aching from the sustained effort. It made me feel alive, stronger than the elements and more powerful than the seas. I sang with my eyes closed and imagined I was in faraway places, free to roam and love as I pleased. When I opened them, it seemed I had been transported far away, to a place not of darkness, but of light. All around me, the garden was glowing with an impossible brilliance. Nothing on this earth could be so beautiful.

“Heavens,” I gasped, clutching the gazebo railing and blinking at the brilliant light.

“More like hell, really, but the Artisans’ Guild has done a good job disguising it.” I whirled around. Tristan was standing at the foot of the gazebo steps. “You’ve a lovely voice. I can’t say I’ve ever heard anything like it.”

“That’s the first nice thing you’ve said to me,” I said, my mind reeling. How long had he been standing there listening?

“Don’t get used to it,” he laughed snidely, turning to go.