Marc sat down in a chair across from me and said nothing else, which allowed me to turn my attention back to the girl. She was fading. I straightened abruptly. “It’s diminishing! The bond, it’s fading away.” The triumphant grin on my face vanished at the sight of Marc’s slowly shaking head.
“She’s sleeping. You’ll notice her a lot less when she’s asleep, unless she dreams – that can get interesting.”
I motioned for him to fill my glass. “It isn’t interesting at all,” I said. “It’s a problem. She’s a problem – one that needs dealing with.”
Marc’s face darkened. “Cécile,” he said, emphasizing her name, “isn’t a problem. She’s an innocent girl who has been dragged into this situation entirely against her will. Your father had her violently kidnapped, dragged through the labyrinth, and then bonded to a troll using a magic that I am certain she didn’t know existed. She is not our problem – we are hers.”
Leaning back in my chair, I watched my orb of light circling above us. “You make a valid point.”
“The poor girl is probably terrified,” Marc added. “How could she not be?”
“Well, she isn’t,” I said. “What she is, is blasted inquisitive. I’d rather the fear – fear doesn’t think, it just reacts.”
Marc snorted. “Tristan, the bond changes everything,” he said. “Whether you like her or not, keeping her safe will become your ultimate priority. The last thing you are going to want is for her to be afraid – especially of you.” He took a sip of wine, watching my face. “For the rest of your lives, you will feel what the other is feeling every waking moment. Sometimes in your dreams.”
I covered my eyes with a hand, a heavy feeling in my chest. I was the one that was afraid.
“Where did you leave her?” Marc asked. “Is she safe?”
“She’s safe enough,” I said, hesitating for a moment before adding, “She’s locked in the closet of my sitting room.”
Marc’s face twisted – which for him, was saying something. “Are you quite serious?”
“It was the only place I could hide her.” I quickly explained the conversation I’d had with my father.
“And you left her there? After she had to listen to that?”
I nodded, starting to feel somewhat ashamed.
Marc got to his feet, left the room, and was back moments later. “I sent a message to Élise. She’ll take care of it.”
I bit my lip hard, considering all my options, none of which were good. “Is it always going to be this invasive?” I finally asked, realizing how strange my lack of knowledge was about something so common to my people. A mystery that was kept a secret by those who had experienced it. “Explain it to me.”
Marc sighed. “You’ll get used to it, but in your case, that might not be such a good thing. In a few days, you will only notice extreme emotions. Fear, happiness, anger, sadness, or pain.”
“And physical distance?” I had noticed walking over here that I could feel the distance, like a lengthening cord, growing between us.
“Only if it changes dramatically. Or if you concentrate.” He smiled. “You’ll always be able to find her.”
“And she will be able to find me, I suppose?” I drained my glass. “And therein lies the crux of our problem.” I held up a hand to keep him from interrupting. “It is not that I know what she feels – it’s that she feels what I feel. She’s going to know when I’m being the deceitful, manipulative… troll that I am. If she betrays that information for an instant, it could be my undoing.”
Marc opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again and nodded.
I could feel the pressure in the room building as my magic responded to my frustration, the air growing hotter by the second. “So, what you’re telling me is,” I shouted, my words directed more at myself than my cousin, “that on top of controlling every word I say, every relationship I have, every twitch, tick, and gesture that I make, that I must also now control how I feel?” I slammed my fists down on the table, the wood groaning beneath the impact.
“No, Tristan,” Marc said, ignoring my anger. “You’re the one who thinks you can control every aspect of your life. But you’re wrong. You can’t control this. You’ll have to find another way.”
“What other way?” I demanded.
“Win her over,” he said. “Make her your ally – you’re bonded, be what you are supposed to be to each other.”
The world spun around me and I grabbed the edge of the table for support, feeling my aunt’s prophesy driving me towards what seemed like an inevitable and unavoidable goal. “No,” I said under my breath. “I’ll do what it takes, but it won’t be that. The cost is far too high.”
CHAPTER 9
CéCILE
If Zoé and Élise were surprised to find me locked in a closet, they didn’t say so. My hands in theirs, they led me to an adjoining room, and I immediately fixated on the large four-poster bed dominating the space. Under other circumstances, its thick blankets and mounds of pillows might have been inviting. Tonight they held all the appeal of a torturer’s rack.
The maids removed my gown and jewels, and at my request, clasped my mother’s necklace back around my neck. They proceeded to dress me in a white lace nightgown and a thick velvet wrap. “We’ll bring your breakfast in the morning,” Élise said, then motioned for her sister to leave. Their troll-lights followed along behind them, the room already growing dim.
“Wait,” I called out. “I have no light.”
Zoé hurried back over to me. “Our mother had this problem when she was alive,” she said. “I remember my father leaving lights about our home for her.”
“Your father,” I asked tentatively, “did he care for your mother?”
Her eyes widened. “Of course he did, my lady. Very much so. They were not bonded, though. It was forbidden.” Her gaze flickered down to the silver marks on my hand. “Perhaps that will change now.”
A second ball of light appeared next to us. “I’ll leave this with you, my lady. Though I’m not certain how long it will last,” she added, cheeks flushing faintly. “My magic has a tendency to wander. I’m sure His Highness will think of a better solution – he is exceedingly clever about such things.”
Alone, with only Zoé’s diminishing ball of light for company, I wandered through Tristan’s cluttered room. Not an inch of wall space had been left bare, and I examined the assorted collection of artwork, tapestries, and maps in an attempt to find insight into the mind of the creature I’d just married. There were landscapes, seascapes, and cityscapes I recognized as Trianon. He had a great many paintings of men on horseback galloping after foxes, boars, and deer. Unlike the other rooms in the palace, no prevailing theme dominated, only a wild and random representation of the world outside of Trollus. The normal, unmagical, Isle of Light.
A mantle took up one wall, and I saw with amusement that he’d nailed a painting of burning logs in the empty space where a real fire ought to have been. A small sitting area surrounded the fireplace, reminding me for a moment of home. But only briefly: this room was cold, unfamiliar, and empty, which our farmhouse never was. I settled down in one of the chairs, pulling my cold feet underneath me, and began to sort through the large stack of books on the table. They were novels: adventures of pirates on the high seas, tales of knights slaying dragons, mysteries set in the underworld of cities on the continent.
The door opened and I leapt to my feet.
“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable,” Tristan said, tossing his hat on the desk.
“No thanks to you, sir,” I replied, wrapping my arms tightly around my body. “You left me locked in a closet.”