The walls crackled as the moisture coating them crystallized into frost, the chill biting with every inhalation, my skin burning wherever it was exposed. But even without Winter’s familiar calling card, I would’ve known it was her. The magic she’d taken prickled with familiarity, and I felt almost – almost – as though it would do my bidding if I bent my will to it.
“Be silent, no matter what you hear,” I whispered, then I got to my feet, even as I heard a familiar clink of metal coming from Cécile’s cell.
The heavy door tore from its hinges, flipping end over end until it smashed against the end of the hallway with a reverberating crash. “I see you’ve been practicing,” I said, inclining my head to the Queen of Winter and praying Marc had bargained well.
She scowled, face fixed in the visage she’d worn when last I’d seen her. Magic slammed me against the rear of my cell, and I forced a groan into a laugh. “Careful now, I’m feeling fragile, and it would do neither of us any good if you were to accidentally kill me.”
“What makes you believe it would be an accident?” she hissed, grabbing me by the shirt and jerking me forward until we were separated by mere inches.
“Because you wouldn’t have risked coming here if there were anyone else capable of releasing you from this burden,” I said, prying her fingers loose one by one. Physically, I was stronger than her, and that was a very good thing.
Her lip curled. “Take it back. You may consider it a gift.”
I straightened my shirt. “No.”
Magic flexed in the air, and I held up one hand to stall her. “Not as a gift, but I will take it back in exchange for something from you.”
“You have no ground to stand on,” she said, lifting her chin. “You either take it or I kill you.”
“You give me what I want,” I said, “Or you remain bound to this world as surely as any troll.” It had been one of the gambles I’d made stepping outside of the safety of the castle walls. One, that couched in her offer of support was the desire to see all my kind dead before my uncle could put us to use. Two, that if I eliminated grounds for an alliance – which she intended to use as a guise for killing off as many trolls as possible – she’d take my magic to do the job herself. Three, that in taking my magic into herself, which was as corrupted by iron as was my flesh, she’d be bound to this world. Corporeal, and vulnerable.
She hesitated, and I added, “Time flows different in Arcadia than it does here. How long have you been gone from your throne? Do your people still owe you their allegiance, or have you been replaced? Have you lost the war?”
Silence. “What is it that you want?”
“Your oath that you and yours will never venture into this world again.”
She snorted. “Your boldness undermines your cleverness, troll. Let’s see how well you bargain while the witch bleeds.”
Winter wrenched open Cécile’s cell door; but out of the darkness swung heavy steel shackles, one of them catching the Queen hard across the cheek, slicing it open. Blood poured down the fairy’s cheek as Cécile stepped out of her cell, her face tight with focus as she bound the Queen’s magic. My magic.
“Witch!” The fairy shrieked, but before she could attack Cécile, I tackled her to the ground, wrapping the manacle chain around her.
“Where are your wolves?” I whispered into her ear. “Where are your dragons and leviathans? Have they abandoned you now when you need them most?”
It was that more than the burning metal around her neck that brought fear to her eyes. The idea that she had been gone too long, and that her desire to be queen of all had rendered her queen of nothing. “You cannot go back while in the possession of my magic,” I said. “You are trapped.”
Her throat convulsed. “If you take your power back, I’ll swear it.”
I eased off her throat. “Say it.”
“I swear to keep the Winter fey from this world.”
I smiled. “Done.”
This bargain, much like the first I’d made with her, reverberated through me like a thunderclap. But with it came the sweet ache of power, and almost immediate relief as my multitude of injuries began to heal. Releasing her from the steel wrapped around her neck, I sat back on my haunches.
Her outline blurred, the shape of a woman falling into semi-transparent mist. Then her glamour shifted, and what rose to its feet was a thing of fangs and claws, elongated pupils alien and unreadable. It snarled once, then the world tore and it sprang through the opening, which disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Cécile stood shivering, one arm braced against the wall, the other pressed against her stomach. I removed the magic that had been gagging her. “Are you all right?”
“No.” She blinked once, eyes glazed. Then her knees buckled. I caught her, pulling her close even as I knew we couldn’t linger. Holding her chased away any lingering need I had for the seeds; made me forget why feeling nothing had ever appealed to me. With her, whether she was in my arms or on the far side of the world, I wasn’t alone. Never had that meant more than now.
“That was quick thinking with the spell,” I said, needing to break the silence before I broke down. “How did you get free?”
Opening her balled-up fist, she held out a hairpin decorated with a jeweled flower. I recognized it, pain stabbing through me anew. “She fixed my hair just before…” She swallowed hard. “Take it.”
It felt like punishment, but I plucked my mother’s hairpin from Cécile’s palm and placed it in my pocket. One final gift that seemed laden with foresight; because without it, Winter might have come out ahead in our transaction.
“Your aunt left me with some things to tell you,” Cécile said, squeezing my hand.
“They will have to wait. We need to get out of Trollus before someone discovers I’ve recovered my magic.” That no one had come down yet was concerning. Marc was supposed to have bargained for the safety of trolls and humans alike before releasing her from the circle, but what if she’d gotten free some other way? What if everyone in Trollus was dead?
I helped Cécile to her feet, then lifted her into the air. She’d been pushed to the point of death and beyond in this past day, and we weren’t done yet. I needed her, and that meant conserving her strength. “I can’t risk an encounter with Roland within Trollus,” I said, cloaking us in illusion and dimming my light. “The city would be destroyed along with everyone in it. We’ll need to lure him out to fight, but I don’t know how.”
“We lure him out by capturing the one who holds his strings.”
I risked a glance down at my wife. She was so very pale, skin marked with livid bruises and scratches. What had happened to her in the days that she’d been gone? In the days where I hadn’t cared whether she lived or died? One thing was certain: I needed to get her help immediately. “That would be a good plan, but I don’t know where Angoulême is.”
A faint smile cross her lips. “But I do. He’s with your ancestors,” she said, then she passed out in my arms.