The door burst open followed by one of the miners. “Lord Roland is on the loose,” he panted. “He’s tearing apart the Dregs. You need to get out of here now.” His eyes fixed on Tips, who was only now rousing. “How in the…”
“There is no time for that now,” I snapped. “Take Tips with you. Get him somewhere safe. Élise, you help him.”
Not waiting for their answers, I bolted down the stairs. Roland was hunting half-bloods, I knew it. And who knew how many he would kill before someone powerful enough arrived to stop him. I needed to distract him, buy Tristan or Anaïs enough time to get here and for the half-bloods to flee. Roland wouldn’t hurt me – insane or not, he’d know that harming me would harm his brother. I was the only one close enough who had a chance of stopping him.
The lower level of the house was empty, but the streets were full of panicked half-bloods running for their lives. I fought against their flow, jostling against their greater strength while I ran towards the sound of screams. Then abruptly, I was alone, their footsteps fading into the distance behind me.
A young troll stood in the center of the road ahead of me, an older half-blood pinned to the ground at his feet. The half-blood screamed and thrashed, trying to escape, while the boy watched with interest.
“Your Highness!” The words were out of my mouth before I could think. “Lord Roland.”
The boy looked up, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. It was not the resemblance to Tristan – I’d expected that. What made me want to run as far and as fast away from this creature as I could were his eyes: they were cold, completely devoid of empathy or compassion. Or sanity.
“Hello, Cécile.” He cocked his head to one side, watching me with undisguised malevolence.
I curtseyed, my knees shaking. “You know who I am, then, my lord?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “I’ve heard a great deal about you. You are the human that my brother Tristan is bonded to.”
“Yes, I am,” I said, his recognition not bringing any relief to my fear, because what was looking at me was utter evil.
“My foster father told me that Tristan loves you – is that true?”
I nodded, forcing myself to hold his gaze. The longer we talked, the more time the half-bloods had to get away. “And I love him.”
Roland scrunched his face up as though he had smelled something foul. “Well of course you do, that makes perfect sense.” He shook his head, his brow furrowing. “It’s him that I don’t understand.”
This creature didn’t understand love at all.
During our exchange, Roland had released the half-blood, and the man was now trying to crawl away. His motion caught the Prince’s attention, and his face twisted. “Vermin,” he hissed. Raising one hand, he brought it down fast, and the man collapsed against the street with the sound of crunching bone. I swayed on my feet.
“Where is my brother now?” Roland asked, stepping over the corpse and walking slowly towards me.
“Very near,” I lied. Tristan was indeed coming this way, but it would take long minutes before he arrived – and that was time I was beginning to suspect I didn’t have. “I am sure he will be pleased to see you.”
“I doubt that.” He bolted towards me, and before I could move, he had me by the wrist. Even though he was shorter and slighter than me, with one twist of his wrist he had me on my knees. He ignored my groan of pain, carefully inspecting the silver tattoo on my fingers. “He is near, you say?” His childish giggles filled the street. “Not near enough, I say!”
“If you hurt me, you hurt him, you know that,” I pleaded. But what did that mean to this remorseless creature. He didn’t care about his brother – he didn’t care about anything but himself.
“I know that very well,” Roland said, shoving me back. He closed his eyes and, for a moment, he was a beautiful little child. Then he opened them again, and it was like looking into the eyes of a devil. “And when I am king, I will be certain not to bond something as weak as you. Or anything at all.”
I clambered to my feet.
“Roland, stop!”
It was Anaïs’s voice, but she was too late. As I turned to run, magic slammed into me, crushing the wind out of my lungs and sending me flying through the air. My body slammed against the ground and, after that, all I knew was pain.
CHAPTER 35
CéCILE
When I awoke back in the palace, it was to an agony that told me instantly my injuries were grievous. Mortal. It hurt to move – it hurt even to breathe – and I was so very, very cold.
“Cécile?” Tristan was sitting at my bedside, his eyes rimmed with red. “I am so sorry.”
I licked my parched lips. “It isn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it is.” His voice was bitter. “Anaïs warned me something like this would happen – she told me to take care of Roland before he got any more powerful, and I refused.”
“You couldn’t have known,” I whispered, unable to manage anything louder.
“I knew he was dangerous,” Tristan said sadly. “I was just too much of a coward to do anything about it.”
He pushed my hair back from my face. “But I won’t make the same mistake twice – I’ll deal with him and, when you’re better again, Trollus will be safe for you.”
“Tristan,” I said. “I think I need help. From a doctor. It hurts to breathe.”
He bit his lip. “We don’t have doctors.”
I knew that. Trolls didn’t need them. “It hurts.”
His jaw tightened. “It will get better.”
I gave a slight shake of my head. “I’m not a troll,” I said, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “I am only human. Mortal and breakable. There is no one here with the skills to help me. I’m afraid…” I broke off, coughing weakly.
He took a deep shuddering breath, and his trepidation grew thick as he slowly pulled the glove off his left hand. His lovely eyes fixed on the golden lace tattooing his hand. The vines, once so bright and vital, were dull and tarnished. “I was afraid to look,” he said. “I was afraid this is what I would see.”
“I’m dying,” I whispered. My voice was calm and completely incongruous with the riot of terror and anger in my head. I did not want to die. Only a day ago, it had seemed my future spread ahead of me like a wild, passionate, and unexplored sea, and I was the captain at the helm, eager to see where the winds would take me. I was in love, and I was loved. I’d never felt more alive and happy, and now it was all going to be over. My lower lip trembled and I clenched my teeth to make it stop. It wasn’t fair. Trollus was full of magic – magic capable of doing the impossible, but powerless to help me in this. An angry noise escaped my lips. “It isn’t bloody fair,” I swore. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.”
My chest spasmed, and I hissed in pain. “I’m sorry,” I said through clenched teeth. Because that was the worst of it – not only was I going to die, I was going to bring Tristan down with me.
“No,” he said, rising to his feet. “No!” He picked up a decanter and threw it, then backhanded a vase off his desk. I watched in horror as he set to destroying everything fragile in sight.
“Tristan, stop!”
He froze, turning back towards me. A shard of glass had sliced open his cheek and one drop of blood trickled down his skin before the cut sealed over. “There isn’t anyone here with the skill to help you. But somewhere else there is?” He turned. “Could other humans help you?”
“I don’t know. Possibly a surgeon could.” There is always hope, I thought, remembering Pierre’s words. Hope that I might live, and that my future with Tristan wouldn’t be cut short. But my hope was diminishing.