Four

Tristan

Maintaining one’s dignity while being dragged in chains through the city one had once been destined to rule, covered in weeks’ worth of one’s own filth, is difficult. That being said, I thought I had managed the deed well enough on the trip between my prison cell and the River Road. Not so on the return voyage. There had been no dignity in my screams; and while the streaks left behind by my tears of pain might have elicited the pity of some, they certainly earned me no respect. I did not deserve it.

I was the fallen prince. Twice a traitor, having betrayed both my father and my cause in a single moment, ensuring that I would remain an outcast for whatever remained of my life. All for a human girl who I loved above all things, and all, it seemed, for nothing.

My jaw ached as I clenched my teeth, half for the pain racking my body, but more for the remembrance of her expression. Horror and pity mixed together in her brilliant blue eyes, but all paling beneath the weight of the promise she’d made for my sake. The burden of a choice that should have been mine, but because I’d been too weak to endure my father’s abuse, the choice had fallen on her instead. I hadn’t even been man enough to look her in the eye and own my defeat – had instead turned my head away, feeling that not only had I failed her, I’d failed at everything I had ever set out to accomplish, at everything that I thought myself to be.

The guards dropped me, and I ground my teeth to keep from crying out. My eyes fixed on the familiar carpet beneath my knees.

“Leave,” said a voice I would recognize anywhere. The guards grumbled, but their boots retreated from my line of sight and the door slammed shut behind me. It took a concerted effort to lift my head enough to see the troll standing in front of me. “Hello, cousin,” I said, my voice hoarse.

“You look terrible,” Marc replied, his disfigured face grim. “Can you get up?”

“I think I am content where I am.” The carpet scratched against my cheek as I lay my head down. “Why am I here?” I asked as an afterthought.

“I’ve little notion – I was hoping you might provide some insight into why your father ordered your change of accommodation.” Marc came toward me, and I rolled one eye up at the sound of metal keys clinking together, remaining motionless as he unlocked four of the six manacles skewering my arms. “Brace yourself,” he said, and jerked one of the cuffs open. A wet sucking noise filled my ears, and I fainted.

When my consciousness returned some moments later, the manacles lay in a blood-crusted and rusty pile on the floor. The two remaining on my wrists stung, the cursed iron still itching and infuriating, but the relief of having the others removed was enormous. Having them in place was like having bands of metal wrapped around my chest, allowing me little gasps of breath, but never enough to satisfy my need. I greedily drew upon my magic, using it to prop myself up on my knees.

“Better? He ordered that I leave two in place.”

I nodded. “Much.”

“I had a bath ordered for you.” He gestured to the steaming tub. “I hadn’t reckoned on the injuries.”

“Just as well.” I slowly got to my feet. “I’m not much for conversation, I’m afraid. Send in my servants on your way out.”

“I’m afraid you have no servants.”

I turned from the bath to look at him. “What?”

“They all refuse to attend you.”

“All?” The loss was surprisingly painful. “So I have only you.”

He nodded. “And the twins, of course. But his Majesty ordered them to the mines as punishment for their actions. I believe he thought the low ceiling would trouble their backs, and perhaps it does, but I doubt he considered how well they’d take to the competition of it all. They do well enough down there.”

I gripped the edges of the tub. “He’ll only find another way to make them suffer. You should all forsake me – attempting to continue our friendship will only bring you trouble.” I fumbled with my destroyed clothing, cursing my numb fingers. “You may go.”

“Tristan, we knew what we were doing when we helped you free Cécile.”

“Don’t say her name,” I snarled, glaring at the water. I swore I could see her eyes reflected in its depths. “Leave.”

“I’m not leaving you in this state,” Marc said. “You’re injured – let me help you, at least.”

You are helpless. Fury flooded through me, and I rounded on him. “I do not need your help,” I screamed. The room shook as I lashed out with magic. Marc raised a shield, but the blow still sent him staggering. If it were not for the fact I was a fraction my usual strength, what I had done would likely have killed him. “Please leave.”

He eyed me warily. “I’ll not leave of my own accord. If you desire me gone so badly, you will have to order me properly. You have my name.”

I sagged against the tub, my wrists screaming against the pressure. “Never again,” I muttered.

“Then you will have to suffer my presence.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I set to ridding myself of my filthy clothing. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the steaming water and plunged down. It felt like hot pokers were sliding into my collection of injuries, but I relished the pain. And for a moment, it drowned the sense of her out of my mind. Ignoring my cousin’s presence, I scrubbed away most of the blood and grime until the water was the color of rust, and then I rested my arms on the edges, breathing deeply.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Ignoring the question, I watched fresh blood well out of the punctures in my arm and drip into the tub.

“Tristan!” Marc snapped and I looked at him in surprise. He was not one to raise his voice.

“Yes?”

“Your father has kept you locked in a prison cell for months, and then today, for seemingly no reason whatsoever, he has allowed you to return home. After a mysterious meeting at the mouth of the River Road. Why? Who did you go to see? What drove him to do this to you?”

I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it again, the words sticking in my throat.

“It was Cécile, wasn’t it?”

I nodded mutely.

“Is she well?” There was more than a hint of concern in his voice.

“Yes,” I said. “For now, at any rate.” I swallowed the taste of bile that had risen in my throat. “He used me to exact her word that she would hunt down Anushka for him.”

“A promise? Were there any loopholes?”

“Yes, but she’s had no experience finding a way out of bargains and I’ve no way to get word to her.” I squeezed my eyes tight, trying to drive away the memory of her expression as she pleaded that I be spared. “So she will either succeed, or he will ensure her failure drives her mad.”

“And if she succeeds? What is your plan then?”

“I don’t have one.” Standing, I wrapped a length of toweling around my waist and retrieved a pair of trousers from my wardrobe, struggling into them. I discarded the idea of a shirt, the thought of the fabric rubbing against the open wounds on my back more than I cared to bear. Marc remained silent through all of it, but his unease was apparent in the way he cloaked his face with shadow.

“There will be no more plans, no more plotting,” I said. “I’ve overestimated myself for far too long, and look at the results. There is nothing I can do but wait for the end to come.”

“I can’t believe you mean that,” Marc said. “The cousin I know has never conceded defeat.”

“Three months trapped alone in a hole changes a man,” I muttered, sitting down cautiously on the chaise. “I’ve had a lot of time to think and to come to terms with my failures. To accept that I am, and have never been more than, a puppet in my father’s machinations.”

“You’re giving up because he discovered one of your plans?” Marc’s voice was incredulous. “Because of one lost battle you relegate yourself to the status of a puppet?”

“It’s not that the battle was lost,” I said, closing my eyes. “It’s how it was lost.” I swallowed hard. “If I had been betrayed or outwitted – that I could accept. But…”

He remained quiet while I searched for the words to explain my torment. “He knew that I loved her,” I finally said. “And he used my love as a weapon against me. As a weapon against my cause. He took the one thing I had that was good, and he corrupted it.” My shoulders slumped. “I love her, and there is nothing I would not do to save her, and for that, I loathe myself, because all my love seems capable of accomplishing is evil. And now he means to do the same to her. To make her choose between my life and the lives of countless others.” I clenched my teeth.

“Her choice is already made.” His words held a trace of bitterness. “Will you leave her to struggle on alone?”

“There is nothing I can do to help her.” I stared at the floor, but all I could see was her face. “She was doomed from the moment she set foot in Trollus, perhaps doomed from the moment she was born. I thought I could protect her, but I was wrong.” My fingers twitched slightly and drops of blood rained down on the carpet. “She will determine all our fates – the burden is hers. There is nothing I can do.”

“How very fatalistic of you,” Marc snapped. “If you can trouble yourself to move, there’s something I want you to see.”

Reluctantly, I rose and followed him out onto the balcony.

The city was mostly dark as it was the middle of the night, but scattered throughout the blackness were pockets of lights. I frowned. “What are they doing?”

“Building your structure – they started shortly after you were put in prison.”

I blinked once. “Why? On whose orders?”

“Your father’s.” Marc leaned against the railing. “Shortly after your imprisonment, he announced to the half-bloods that he would fund the construction of your project if they provided the labor.”

“Why would he do that?” I muttered, resting my elbows on the railing.

Marc shrugged. “It did much to restore his popularity with them. They practically sing his name in the streets these days.”

“He never needed or wanted their support before.” My eyes flicked between construction sites. Something wasn’t right. “Surely his actions have cost him popularity with the aristocracy.”

“Indeed they have.” Marc shifted his weight slightly from one foot to another, showing his unease. “He almost never leaves the palace these days. When he does, he always goes with a full complement of guards. Your mother, too, is guarded at all times. He clearly fears an assassination attempt.”

“He doesn’t fear anything,” I replied, scoffing at the very idea. “And his resumed control over the tree protects him – no one would dare it.”

“He didn’t resume control of the tree. He gave the task over to the Builder’s Guild. They’re taxed right to their limit in keeping it stable.”

I sucked in a deep breath. “Bloody stones! What is he thinking?”

Since the moment a permanent tree structure had been established, the ruling monarch controlled it. Part of the reason was the immense amount of power it took to maintain, but the other part was the protection it gave the King. Magic didn’t disappear the moment a troll died, but it dissipated quickly, making the death of a king a dangerous time in Trollus. Especially when the death was unexpected. Giving up control of the tree made my father vulnerable indeed.

“The reason he gave was that having the lives of all those in Trollus held in the hand of one troll had proven to be too much of a risk.”

I cringed inwardly, remembering how when he had first imprisoned me I’d threatened to pull the tree down on all our heads should something happen to Cécile. “He’s not wrong,” I said under my breath. “But that risk has always existed – why change now?”

“His actions certainly bear consideration.”

“As always,” I said, my mind sorting through possible motivations. But I couldn’t quite concentrate, because something about the construction going on in front of me was wrong. “They aren’t following my plans,” I said abruptly.

“I thought they seemed different.” Marc’s voice was mild. “Of course, I am no engineer.”

But I was – and even though the foundations of the structure were only just being laid, I could tell it would never support the weight of Forsaken Mountain.

“I thought the half-bloods had your diagrams?” Marc said. “What reason would they have to deviate from them?”

I shook my head. “I promised them the plans once I had their names – but I didn’t have the time to collect all of them, which gave me an out on my promise.”

“No wonder they curse your name. You should have handed them over as a show of good faith.”

“I didn’t trust them,” I muttered, remembering the moment as vividly as though it were yesterday. I’d collected as many names as I could before Cécile’s terror had driven me back to the palace. Just before I’d reached the gates, Anaïs had found me and told me my father was alone with Cécile. I’d given her my plans and told her to hide them, then I’d gone inside to duel with my father. Anaïs would only have had a few minutes to hide the documents before she came through my window to fight. Which meant she’d hidden them nearby.

Retreating back inside, I went to the glass doors Anaïs had broken through. Below lay my private courtyard and the wall she would have come over to get inside. Opening the doors, I hurried down the steps, barely noticing Marc trailing along after me.

Cécile’s piano still stood in the middle of the space, but it was covered in a layer of dust. I walked in a slow circle around it, then came to a halt at the bench. Stacks of music covered the seat, the paper as dusty as the piano. Wiping my hands on my trousers to remove the blood dripping down from my wrists, I began to sort through them, quickly coming up with what I’d been looking for. “Hidden in plain sight,” I said, holding them up.

“Then what are the half-bloods constructing?” Marc asked, his expression grim.

“Were you present when he told them to build?”

Marc nodded, his eyes growing distant as he remembered. “His speech was long, but he concluded by lifting a roll of parchment into the air and shouting, ‘Behold the plans for a stone tree.’”

I shook my head slowly, admiring his genius. “He gave them drawings of the tree as it is now. They’re building something that is doomed to fail – and he knows it. And by keeping the Builders’ Guild focused entirely on maintaining the magic version, he ensures none of them will have the time to do the calculations to determine that while the existing structure works for magic, it won’t work for stone.”

Marc blinked.

“You didn’t think it took me two years to come up with plans identical to something I looked at every day, did you?” I asked, shaking my head. “I assure you, these plans” – I shook the parchment – “are drastically different for a reason. The question is, why would my father let me out, knowing that I would see through his deception?”

Marc shook his head slightly.

Turning round, I pressed a piano key, the note echoing out around us. “He wants me to do something.” I pressed another key. “What does he think I’m going to do?”

“I thought you weren’t going to do anything but wait to die?”

I shot him a dark look. “I haven’t said I’m going to do anything.”

“Of course not.” Marc kept a straight face. “This is all just speculation.”

“Indeed. Something to pass the time while I wait.”

“To die.”

“Or not.” I scratched the skin around one puncture in my arm – it had finally scabbed over, but the healing itched terribly. “What does he want from me?” I murmured to myself.

“Perhaps he wanted you to lead him to where your plans were hidden,” Marc said. “Maybe we’ve just given him what he wanted.” We both looked around, but we were alone, and Marc’s magic kept our conversation private.

“Perhaps,” I replied, but I was not convinced. There was no evidence he’d even gone looking for them. “If that’s the case, he lucked out, because I didn’t know where they were.”

Marc’s brow furrowed. “Then who hid them here?”

“Anaïs,” I said. “She hid them before she came to help me fight my father.” I swallowed hard, remembering the sight of my friend impaled on the sluag spear. “She gave up everything for me,” I said, closing my eyes. “She died for me.”

I jerked them open again at Marc’s sharp intake of breath. He stood rigid in front of me, unease on his face. “Tristan,” he said. “Anaïs isn’t dead.”

“That’s impossible.” But even as I said the words, hope rose in my heart. Anaïs, alive?

“And not only is she alive,” Marc continued, “she claims your father saved her life.”