Page 19 of Stolen Songbird

“Yes.” The word was flat, emotionless.

Triumph flashed across the King’s face. “Check the River Road!” he bellowed, charging over the invisible bridge, his son forgotten.

“What have you done to me?” I repeated. “What did he mean about you bonding me?”

Tristan rested his forehead against the altar. “I didn’t do anything more to you than you did to me.”

“What does that mean?” I asked precisely, with venom.

Tristan looked up, a faint smile on his face. “Old magic, neither troll nor human, although we’ve made use of it over the years. It bonded us, or linked our minds, if you prefer.”

“I would prefer the bond ended,” I hissed. “Or better yet, never happened at all.”

“In this, we are of an accord, dearest wife. However, it is something we must both learn to live with.”

“For how long?”

He grimaced and climbed to his feet. “Until one of us ceases to draw breath, one heart stills, one body is consigned to dust. Or in less poetic terms, a bloody long time.” Leaving me to scramble to my own feet, he fixed his attention on the mob of trolls making their way to the far end of the valley. “Unless, of course, this doesn’t work,” he said softly and half to himself. “Then we may not have long to wait at all.”

“If what doesn’t work?” I shouted, seizing hold of his arm. “Quit talking in circles and explain what is going on and what any of it has to do with me.”

Tristan ignored both tugging and words, his eyes fixed down the valley. His anticipation grew in my mind. Anticipation and fear. My own anxiety growing, I turned my attention to the hoard of trolls standing in front of the wall of rock at the end of the city.

We waited for what seemed like an eternity, then, abruptly, a collective groan of disappointment passed through the throng of trolls. Tristan did not echo them. His face was expressionless, but I sensed his relief and elation.

“Did it work?” I asked, heartily wishing someone would explain what it was.

“No,” Tristan said. “It didn’t.” He tore his gaze away from the mass of trolls and took my arm. “We should probably hide you out of the way—he isn’t going to be best pleased.” In the faint light I could see that fights were beginning to break out in the crowd, but instead of fists, the trolls struck invisible blows with magic. Screams echoed through the cavern and the air grew blisteringly hot.

“Not that it will matter if they kill you first,” Tristan growled over the noise. “Establish curfew,” he shouted at the guards surrounding us. “Get the half-bloods back under control!”

“We need to get out of here.” Tristan bolted across the invisible bridge, but when I tried to follow, my feet got tangled in the damp fabric of my skirts, slowing me down. I thought he would keep going and leave me to the crowd, but he was back in an instant. Snatching up the train of my skirt, he tore the thick fabric as easily as if it were paper and tossed it into the river. Then he grabbed hold of my wrist. “Run!”

* * *

We stopped running once we reached the safety of the palace walls; then Tristan dropped my arm and stepped ahead of me. I scurried after him through the maze of palace corridors with no small amount of difficulty. Even without the train, the skirts on my dress were heavy and prone to tangling up my feet. Pride kept me from asking him to slow down and fear kept me from falling behind. It was made all the worse by Tristan’s anxiety pressing hard in my skull. If he was afraid, what did that mean for me?

Once I was thoroughly turned about, Tristan finally opened a door and pulled me into a room I recognized as the one where we had first met. He went immediately to the sideboard and, to my surprise, bypassed the decanter of wine and poured himself a glass of water instead. He guzzled the liquid down and poured another. “Wine?” he asked.

“I’d prefer an explanation.”

He gave me a curious look. “I suppose there is no way you could know.”

I shook my head.

Passing a tired hand across his face, he nodded. “Fine. We are cursed, and by we, I mean trolls, not you and me; although perhaps you might consider yourself so. Nearly five centuries ago, a human witch broke the mountain in two, burying Trollus in rock. Through magic, we were able to keep the city from being crushed; but suffice it to say, it took a significant length of time to dig a way out, only for the trolls to discover that the witch had cursed them to the confines of Trollus for as long as she drew breath.”

“If your ancestors were half as irritating as you are, I can understand why.”

Tristan glowered. “This is no laughing matter, Cécile.”

“Why not?” I said. “You think everything else is.”

“We’ve known each other the space of three hours and already she thinks she knows me,” Tristan muttered. “Do you want the rest of the story, or not?”

“Please.”

“As I was saying, all of those trolls and their descendants have been trapped within the confines of the city for the past five hundred years, while you humans carried on your merry way above. Three weeks ago, my aunt—you may remember her, tiny woman, practically inseparable from my mother—anyway, she has the gift of foresight. She foretold that when a prince of night bonded a daughter of the sun, the curse would be broken.”

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