The Malediction: Hidden Huntress Part 37

"How high up did you say we were?"

"I didn't." He pulled me tight against his chest, and I inhaled the clean smell of his linen s.h.i.+rt as I tried to find my balance. "I'm not worried about dropping you; it's what happens when I put you down in the middle of a city full of disgruntled trolls that concerns me."

My plan seemed like a worse and worse idea with each pa.s.sing moment, and I knew if I delayed any longer that I'd lose my nerve entirely. Standing on my tiptoes, I kissed him hard. "For good luck."

He rested his forehead against mine. "Luck is what poor planners rely upon. As long as you stick to what we agreed, you should be fine. Go straight to Pierre, find out what we need to know, and then go back to the place where I set you down. Don't go looking for Marc or the twins or trouble, or any of the usual sorts of disasters you always seem to find."

I nodded, my heart beating so hard and fast I was sure he could hear it. "Right. In and out."

"The riskiest moment will be when you first go in and your shadow will be visible, so I'm going to move you very quickly. Don't make a sound I know for a fact that your voice carries well in this cursed place."

"Not a peep." I was shaking, and it had nothing to do with the winter air. Removing my riding gloves, I shoved them into my pocket and wiped my sweating palms on my skirts. Before I could even think to back down, magic wrapped around my waist and hips and I lifted up into the air. I scrunched myself up into a ball, resting my cheek against my knees and gripping my ankles with one arm. With my free hand, I clutched Tristan's magic like it was a rope.

"You really don't need to do that."

"Makes me feel better." My voice sounded high-pitched and strange.

"Ready?"

I wasn't. I really wasn't. But I nodded anyway.

He needn't have worried about me making a sound. The force of being snapped backwards and down stole my breath, and before I could think, much less squeak, I was hanging suspended beneath the rocks, all of Trollus laid out below me. Letting go of my ankles, I clung with both hands to the rope of magic, trying to get my breathing under control.

Although Tristan had a.s.sured me that it would be all but impossible for anyone to see me in the darkness, I still felt utterly exposed, and panic began to erode my self-control. There was no surviving a fall from this height. I'd be nothing more than a splatter of gore against the paving stones, my screams echoing long after my life winked out. A whimper of noise forced its way from my lips.

Sensing I was close to cracking, Tristan began to slowly move me along the ceiling of the cavern. It wasn't simply a matter of setting me down in the middle of the city he needed to keep me hidden in the shadows, dropping me down where the rock rested against the highest reaches of the valley. But he was working blind, entirely dependent on memory to navigate me not only to my destination, but around the magic columns and arcs and canopies that held the rock off the city. His concentration on the task steadied my nerves, and my mind refocused on what was below me.

Trollus was beautiful. It had always felt like a dream to me, so otherworldly that it seemed impossible that it existed in the same reality as my farm, the Hollow, and even Trianon. Seeing it like this transported me back, made me feel as though I'd never left. The familiar roar of the falls, the water sparkling as it fell from the heights at the far end of the city to explode into spray and foam in the river that drove straight and true toward the mouth of the river road.

The terraced streets rising like steps for a giant's feet up the sides of the valley and bisected by staircases that swept and curved around the pale stone buildings. The palace was ma.s.sive, white and gold and stately where it sat overlooking the river, the gla.s.s gardens lying behind it, black but for the troll-lights that lined the meandering pathways. I wondered if anyone walked those paths now that I was gone, or if the flowers, bushes, and trees had languished in darkness.

But not everything was the same.

Dozens of ma.s.sive stone columns rose up from the city streets, some grown so high that they seemed almost within reach if I stretched my fingers out. But no one was working on them now, and as I twisted around to see back toward the base of the valley, I could see why. The Dregs, which b.u.t.ted up against the wall of rock, was entirely barricaded in with collapsed buildings and piled debris, and behind those hastily constructed walls, there was a flurry of activity marked by tiny bobbing troll-lights. For there to be that many half-bloods in the streets meant they weren't in the mines, and my heart sped as I considered the implications of what that meant.

Not that I had much time to think about it. I was over the Elysium quarter now, the ma.s.sive manors of the troll aristocracy gleaming with silvery troll-light as they pa.s.sed beneath me. After the highest row of homes was a strip of empty s.p.a.ce between the walls at the rear of the properties and where rockslide rested against the lip of the valley. It was patrolled once daily for any signs of sluag intrusion, but otherwise it was dark, empty, and the safest place to set me down. I stumbled a bit as my feet hit the ground, my legs feeling like pudding, and I held onto the magic until I had my balance. As soon as I let go, it unraveled from around my waist.

I knew Tristan could feel things through his magic in some fas.h.i.+on, but the effect was still eerily strange, like some great sentient serpent stretched between us. s.h.i.+vering, I stepped away from where it waited and retrieved the more familiar bit of power that I'd tucked into my pocket.

After a bit of whispered coaxing, my little orb began to gleam softly, and my disguise was complete. I hurried toward one of the narrow lanes between two properties; then, looking both ways to make sure no one was coming, I stepped out onto the street.

Keeping my head low and hidden in the hood of my cloak, I chose a brisk pace fitting a servant on an errand for her mistress and prayed no one would pay me any mind. I hardly needed to worry the streets of this area of Trollus were quieter than the rest of the city, but never had I seen them so empty. It made me uneasy, and I almost breathed a sigh of relief when I finally pa.s.sed two half-bloods on a set of stairs. It was short-lived though they gave me a wide berth, and as much as it reduced my risk of discovery, I knew it wasn't normal.

The tension grew palpable as I descended toward the valley floor, magic thick and hot in the air, full and half-bloods alike all looking as though they expected to be attacked at any moment. No one spoke unless they traveled together and many of them wore bands of colored fabric around their arms. I needed no explanation to know the city was divided.

When I finally caught sight of Pierre's home, it was all I could do not to run toward it. Trotting up the front steps, I knocked once and then went inside.

"Get out!" Pierre's shrill voice made me flinch. "You never take my advice anyway!"

He sat on his little wheeled stool at one of his desks, pen in hand and back to me.

"Pierre?"

The tiny troll froze, then very slowly, he looked over his shoulder. "You hide your face," he said. "But your voice is that of the dearest girl I've ever known."

I flung myself at him, wrapping my arms around his narrow shoulders and squeezing them tight. "It's me, Pierre. It's Cecile. Oh, it is so good to see you are well."

Gripping my shoulders, he pushed me back. "What are you doing here? Is Tristan with you? Is he well?"

"He's well," I said, and Pierre's shoulders sagged with visible relief. "He's up on top of the rock fall waiting to lift me out when I'm ready. He lowered me through the moon hole, and Pierre, I was so terrified that Trollus almost got the first rainstorm it's had in five hundred years."

He laughed. "If I had any doubts that you're really Cecile, they are chased away now." His smile didn't last. "Be a dear and bolt the door; the Builder's Guild has little enough time for me, but we dare not risk one of them arriving unannounced and discovering you here."

I did as he asked, making certain the curtains covered the front windows. "What is happening in Trollus? It feels as though fighting will break out at any minute."

"It already has." He pa.s.sed a weary hand over his face. "The city is quite divided. After Tristan left Trollus, the half-bloods went to the King to demand their autonomy and for him to reinstate Tristan as his heir, but he refused to receive them. So they revolted and are now refusing to work until their demands are met. They've barricaded themselves in the Dregs, but they can't last forever. Even if they could adequately supply themselves, Angouleme will see them put down. Already there are dead in the streets each morning, and all have been identified as those who support the half-bloods' cause. Consorting with half-bloods not your property has become a dangerous business."

I clutched the fabric of my cloak against the chill drifting across my skin. "Hasn't the King done anything to stop this?"

Pierre shook his head. "He does nothing. He has played the two sides against each other too hard for too long, and now all have turned against him. He has made himself vulnerable by giving up control of the tree, and I think it only a matter of time until his life is forfeit. And with Tristan absent, there is no one capable of contesting Roland's rise to the throne."

"The people want him to come back?" Did he want to come back?

"They are afraid, Cecile. Tristan is their only hope."

I forced my head to nod up and down. "I'll tell him."

Neither of us spoke for a moment, then Pierre broke the silence. "You took a great risk in coming here, Princess, and I think you sought me out in particular for a reason."

"I did. We need your help." Extracting the list of names and dates from my pocket, I handed it to him. Then I explained my suspicion about a.n.u.shka's immortality. "I need to know if there's a pattern."

"Alignment of the winter solstice and the full moon," Pierre muttered. Books floated off shelves and charts unrolled to hang in the air. I watched in silence as he flipped swiftly through the pages, eyes flicking periodically to the carefully inked charts, one hand holding a pen, which he occasionally used to jot down a date.

Though I was desperate to know if my theory was correct, I stayed silent and out of the way until he set his pen down. "Well?"

He handed me back my list, along with the page with the dates he'd written down. "Your thesis appears to be correct. Although you are missing one the most recent."

Knowing there was a chance the unmarked grave in the woods belonged to my maternal grandmother in no way prepared me for seeing it all but confirmed in a single, scrawled date. Now I was certain a.n.u.shka was using the lives of her female descendants to make herself immortal, and dread seeped through my veins with the knowledge that tomorrow night would be my mother's last if I didn't stop a.n.u.shka.

"Tomorrow night is the solstice," Pierre said. "It is also a full moon."

Before I could say anything, someone pounded at the door. "Pierre! Open up or I'll break it down. We saw the half-blood come inside."

Half-blood? It took a heartbeat for me to realize whoever was outside was referring to me. Whether they'd been watching the house or noticing me had been a coincidence didn't really matter: Pierre didn't own any servants. He didn't have a legitimate reason for talking to a half-blood girl. And he especially didn't have a legitimate reason to be talking to me.

The little troll hissed a breath out between his teeth, eyes flas.h.i.+ng bright with anger. The room grew warm with magic, and for the first time, it occurred to me that my friend was a far more formidable force than he appeared. "Go upstairs and out the window onto the roof," he said. "It's one of the Duke's men."

"This is my fault," I whispered. "They're here because of me."

He shook his head. "This has been a long time in coming, I fear," he replied, taking my hand and squeezing it with his. "My allegiances are well known."

They were going to kill him. "I'm not leaving you to die," I said, racking my brain for a solution. A blow struck the door and the entire house shook.

"You have no choice. If they catch you, they'll kill you in an instant. Trollus can afford to lose me, but losing you is quite another matter."

"I'll take you with me," I babbled, unwilling to concede. "I can carry you. I'll take you somewhere safe."

Another blow smashed against the door with an echoing thud, and I knew it wasn't stone that was keeping them out. It was magic against magic.

"There is nowhere in Trollus that is safe. You must get away now while there is still time."

He was right, and I hated it. But staying wouldn't just be risking my life it would be risking Tristan's, and in doing so, I'd be putting the fates of countless other trolls in jeopardy. Flinging my arms around his shoulders, I squeezed hard. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry."

He patted me on the shoulder. "Take care of that boy for me, my sweet girl. He needs you."

"I will," I said, but my voice was drowned out by the thunder of magic.

"Run!"

I sprinted to the stairs, taking them two at a time. There were stacks of books and papers littered everywhere on the second level, and I leapt over them, staggering as the whole house swayed. Ahead was a window looking out over the neighboring home, and I flung it open. There was a gap between the two structures. I was going to have to jump. Climbing onto the ledge, I clung to the frame and slowly straightened. Stone fell and smashed against the street as the front of the house collapsed. Sucking in a breath, I bent my knees and leapt forward.

I landed on my feet, but momentum made me stumble into a fall, ripping my dress and sc.r.a.ping my knees. Ignoring the pain, I clambered up and ran to the far side of the roof. Below was a wall. Falling to my hands and knees, I slid over the edge and dropped onto the narrow edge of stone, but before I could go any further, an explosion shook the air.

Debris and dust sailed through the streets, and if I'd still been on the roof, it would surely have killed me. Screams cut the air, and everyone was running. Slipping off the wall, I joined the ranks of fleeing trolls, running as hard and fast as I could. And I didn't look back. I couldn't. Couldn't bear to see the ruin of Pierre's home and know that he was dead. That I hadn't been able to help him.

My breath tore in my chest as I sprinted up a flight of stairs, and then another, working my way back to where Tristan's magic waited to pull me away from danger. I'd been living soft for too long, and even fear wasn't enough to compensate for the exhaustion numbing my legs. My ribs ached where they'd been broken, and rounding a corner, I ground to a halt and bent nearly double, resting my hands on my knees.

Pierre was dead, and it was my fault. I'd brought them down upon him. Dead for no reason other than that he had not hidden his support for Tristan. Slaughtered for believing the half-bloods deserved a better lot in life. Dead, because I'd been powerless to help him, and because a stupid prophesy had deemed my life worth more than his. I breathed in and out, trying to stay calm, trying to keep my wits about me.

A smell brushed at my nose, and if I'd been a dog, my hackles would have risen. If I'd been standing in Trianon, where upper and lower cla.s.s alike tossed night-soil into the streets, such a smell would have caused as much notice as salt from the sea. But if nothing else, Trollus was always clean. My eyes fixed on the pale stone cobbles in front of me, I watched as a crimson rivulet of blood ran by the toe of my boot. And then another. And another. My heart in my throat, I lifted my face.

The street was painted with so much blood it seemed impossible that it could have come from only one body. I stared, trying to fit the pieces back together into something someone recognizable, but my mind couldn't manage it. Not with Roland kneeling in the middle of the mess, tapping the tip of a knife thoughtfully against one tooth, bright eyes fixed on me.

He doesn't know it's you! But did that matter? It hadn't for the half-blood who was now only the sum of his pieces. Tristan's name rippled through my head as I considered whether to call him down. Except I knew that if I did, it would be no less than a battle to the death. I needed to try to find another way out of this.

"Your Highness." I curtseyed low, holding the position until my knees ached. Even without magic, I had no hope of outrunning him he was many times faster than me, even at my best. "Is there some way I might a.s.sist you?"

He huffed out an annoyed breath. "I'd hoped you might run. The rudeness would have been enough excuse."

Excuse for what?

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Your Highness." My knees were starting to shake.

"No one understands." His voice sounded almost sad.

"Roland!"

Never in my life would I have dreamed I'd be so happy to see the Duke d'Angouleme. He stalked past me toward the murderous prince, four tense-looking guards on his heels. "Stones and sky, boy! What could possibly have provoked you to do this?"

"He tripped and dropped the new Guerre set Lady Anais had made for me. I went all the way to the Artisan's Row to collect it from Reagan, and now it is ruined."

"Why do I suspect his tripping was no accident?" The Duke's voice was acidic, and I could not help but notice he kept a wary eye on Roland.

The Prince climbed to his feet. "He walked behind, so I did not see it happen." The knife he'd had in his hand was gone, and I wondered where he had hidden it. Not that he needed it.

"As though that makes all the difference." Angouleme waved a hand at his guardsmen. "Clean this mess up. And you" He turned around and pointed a finger at me.

I froze. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"Pick that up and bring it."

My eyes flicked to the box lying in the middle of all that gore. The last thing I wanted to do was pick it up and carry it into the heart of the lion's den.

"Do it!" Angouleme was visibly upset, and I did not care to think what would happen if I disobeyed. Running forward, I picked my way through the mess of flesh and bone and reached for the box. As I was bending down, I saw Roland's knife hidden in a fold of fabric, and before I could even think about what I was doing, I hid it in my skirts. Taking hold of the box, I heaved it up, afraid for a moment that I wouldn't be able to lift it and would give myself away. But I managed to get it up, my fingers slick with troll blood and worse. Heart in my throat, I followed the two toward the Duke's home, which I knew lay not far up the street.

The walls surrounding the house were higher than was typical in Trollus as high as those around the palace, and just as well guarded. Armed full-blooded troll men and women watched the street, their expressions those who expect an attack at any minute. Two of them opened the gates for us, but none paid any attention to me.

"Where would you have me put this, Your Grace?" I altered my voice to keep it low, but I could not keep the shake from it.

"In here." Angouleme flung open the doors to a large room, and ignoring my aching arms, I carried the box over to a table. "Open it, and let us see if the damage warranted such behavior."

I did as he asked, flinching when he reached over my shoulder to pluck up one of the little figurines.

"It's gold!" He turned and threw the glittering figure at the wall with such force that it smashed through the plaster. Something crashed in the neighboring room, and I heard an exclamation of disgust. Seconds later, the Dowager d.u.c.h.esse entered, and my heart sank.

Angouleme rounded on Roland. "Do you have any idea how much that half-blood was worth?"

Shoving me out of the way, Roland went to the box and began pulling out the little figures. "Oh, they are gold!"

"Roland."

My hands and feet felt like ice, but sweat dribbled down my back. I would rather have lain naked in a pit of vipers than spend another second in this room. But I could not leave without being dismissed, and none of the three were paying me any mind.

The boy shrugged. "Well, given the fight he put up, I suppose he must have been expensive." What they were having for dinner probably would have interested him more than the man he'd just murdered in cold blood.

"How many times do I have to explain to you..." Angouleme broke off, his eyes flicking to me. "You are dismissed."

I dropped into curtsies for all three of them, then backed out of the room, keeping my face low. Closing the door behind me, I started toward the front entrance, but then I stopped. If they were about to have a row, wasn't it better that I listen in on it? They had unwittingly invited their enemy into their midst, and wouldn't I be a fool not to take advantage of that?

You'd be a fool to stay, I all but heard Tristan whisper in my ear, but I ignored him. Spying a doorway to an antechamber, I quietly went inside. Pressing my ear to the wall, I listened.

"I enjoy doing it. There is no other reason," Roland snapped, and I could imagine his arms crossed, lovely blood-smeared face petulant.

"You cannot keep killing out of hand, Your Highness. Your father might still reinstate Tristan as heir, and you would not care for that to happen, would you?"

The house trembled. "He will not! I will be king!"

"No one wants that more than I, Your Highness." Angouleme's voice was soothing. "But well you know that we must play this tedious game of politics if we are to succeed. Your brother is a sly creature, and he has turned the people's minds against us."