Page 10 of Stolen Songbird

Whether the trolls found me attractive or not was the least of my concerns, but I was grateful for Lord Marc’s defense. There was something about the tone of his voice that suggested he did not support what was being done to me. And he had given his word that he would never harm me. Between Luc and the King, I was beginning to think that Marc was the closest thing I had to an ally in this place.

“Hmmm.” The King looked me up and down, silver eyes narrow. “I suppose there might be something beneath all the filth.”

“Let me see her,” said a shrill voice, and I searched the room for its source. “Turn around!” the voice demanded, and so I did.

“Not you, girl,” said the King.

Turning back to face the throne, I felt a wave of dizziness hit me. “Oh my,” I said. “Oh my, oh my.” It had been the Queen whom the voice had ordered to turn, and from her back sprouted a doll-sized woman who gestured for me to step closer.

“Come here, girl.”

Stiff-kneed and frozen in place, my heart pounded so hard it rivaled the waterfall for noise. The Queen began an awkward backwards shuffle towards me, her skirts tangling up her feet and threatening to send both of them toppling. Marc rushed forward to grasp her arm and prevent disaster, while I remained rooted still.

The little troll scowled. “You’d think after all these years you’d have learned to walk backwards, Matilde.”

“Thank you, Marc,” the Queen trilled, ignoring her twin. She shuffled until her miniature attachment and I stood face to face. “I am Sylvie Gaudin, Duchesse de Feltre.” She clamped child-sized hands on my cheeks. I squeaked, fighting the urge to slap her away. Her silver gaze bore into me, and I swear she delved into the depths of my soul. “This is the one.”

“Are you certain?” the King asked from his perch on the throne. “She rather smells.”

“She meets the criteria given to us by the foretelling. You do sing, don’t you?” the troll woman asked.

“Yes,” I croaked, not knowing why it mattered. “What do you intend to do with me?”

“Why, to bond you to our dear Tristan,” the troll said, smiling at me. “You are to be a princess of Trollus and mother of his children; and in doing so, you will set us all free.”

The world spun and I jerked away from her grip. Behind me, a small group of trolls had silently gathered and they watched me stumble down the steps towards them. Not all of them were deformed, but they were monsters still, every one of them. And I was to wed one. To be bedded by one. To bear its children. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to be on my way to Trianon to get everything I had ever wanted. Now, not only had I lost everything—my family, my friends, my dreams—I had just been informed that what life I had left would be spent in an endless nightmare.

I heard motion behind me, and Luc bent to pass me a handkerchief. “At least you’ll be rich,” he murmured into my ear. “Just close your eyes and think of gold.”

I spat at him, the glob of vomit-tinged spit dribbling down his cheek. He raised a hand to slap me, but it froze in place.

“There will be none of that, Monsieur Luc.” The tiny troll’s face grew cold and expressionless.

“You can’t make me do this,” I said to her, climbing to my feet. “I want to go home.”

Her brow crinkled, but whether from sympathy or anger, I couldn’t tell. “This is your home now, Cécile.”

“No.” I shook my head rapidly, heedless of the tears running down my face. “I’d rather die.”

She tilted her head. “Making statements like that will do you no good, girl. We will only have you watched day and night to ensure you do not harm yourself.”

I bolted down the steps, but barely got halfway before bands of warm power lashed around my waist, lifting me up into the air. I screamed, but the sound abruptly cut off as a ball of what could only be magic shoved its way between my teeth. I struggled to breathe as invisible cords dragged me through the air and dropped me in front of the troll queen’s conjoined twin.

“You are only making things more difficult for yourself.”

Hovering in the air with my arms bound and my mouth gagged, it was hard to put up much of a show of resistance, but I threw venom into my glare. The tiny troll chuckled. “You’ve got spirit, I’ll grant you that.”

The King abruptly rose to his feet. “We are of a mind to let Tristan have a look at her first. Perhaps she won’t be to his taste.”

“How could she be?” a dry voice chimed in from behind me. “She’s human.”

I craned my neck around to look at the troll who had spoken. He was older, black hair streaked with grey. My eyes searched for whatever defect marked him like the other trolls, but there was none. He was shaped as well as any human, but there was no mistaking what he was. Otherness radiated from him, and the malice in his metallic gaze made me look away.

“The human part isn’t negotiable,” the King snapped. “And if I wanted your opinion, Angoulême, I would have asked.” He turned back to the little troll woman. “You are certain this will work?”

“If we’ve interpreted the foretelling correctly, then yes,” she said.

“Ironic, don’t you think, that Tristan was the only one to bear witness to this foretelling,” the troll called Angoulême said. “Unless you can remember the details, Sylvie?”

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