Page 36 of Stolen Songbird

“Over here,” I called and she hurried over. Albert, I noticed, was with her. “You should come in now, my lady. It is getting quite late.”

“Quite late,” I echoed, my eyes searching for Tristan’s light.

“Was there someone out here with you, my lady? I thought I heard voices.” Albert was watching me intently, and I felt a shiver run through me like ants marching down my spine.

Zoé gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.Don’t tell.

“No,” I lied, not knowing exactly why. “I was just talking to myself.”

He frowned. “Who lit up the garden then?”

I tensed.

“Oh don’t be such a boor, Albert,” Zoé said, smiling winsomely at him. “The poor thing is miserable—I thought the gardens would cheer her up a bit.”

“Only royals or members of the Artisans’ Guild are allowed to light the garden, Zoé,” he chided, but I could see he wasn’t immune to her charms, half-blood or not.

“I know.” She lowered her head. “You won’t tell, will you?”

“I suppose not,” he said, motioning for us to start towards the palace. “Not unless I’m asked, at least. I would not care to see you punished.”

The girl smiled at the hulking troll, but said nothing.

I kept my mouth shut, but my mind was whirling about like some great machine. Zoé had just lied. Not overtly, of course, but the effect was the same. But why was she covering for Tristan’s presence when the whole city knew that we were bonded? Why was she covering for him at all when by all accounts she should hate his noble guts?

What were they trying to hide?

12

Tristan

“Idiot, idiot, idiot,” I muttered to myself as I navigated through the gardens away from Cécile, hoping Zoé would be quick-thinking enough to conceal my presence. I needed my association with Cécile kept at a minimum, or I’d risk questions arising over why I had suddenly changed my tune about her. What had I been thinking? If anyone knew I had followed her into the gardens like a lovesick puppy and then lit them up in a moronic attempt to impress her, it would undermine the purpose of my performance in the market today.

It had been a risky move to intervene and save Jérôme’s son’s life. I’d thought I’d played the circumstances well enough to hide my true motivations, but if Cécile, who’d only known me for the space of a day and knew nothing about politics, suspected me, then a savvy bastard like Angoulême was bound to have seen through my act.

Sure enough, I caught motion out of the corner of my eye as I crossed the bridge into the city proper. Plastering a smile on my face, I tipped my hat to Angoulême’s man, who at least had the decency to look embarrassed. Not that it mattered. I never bothered trying to lose them anyway.

Keeping Christophe alive hadn’t been up for debate, but following Cécile into the gardens and telling her the truth? Inexcusable. For one, I couldn’t trust her, and two, the more she knew the greater danger she was in. If everyone believed her to be nothing more than a failed experiment in my father’s quest to break the curse, they’d let her be. But the minute anyone thought she could be used against me…

I ground my teeth in frustration. I hadn’t thought it would be this hard, even though Marc had warned me. “The bond changes everything,” he’d said. “Whether you like her or not, keeping her safe will become your ultimate priority.” Lo and behold, I’d been awake all of last night fretting about the tiny cut on her foot and whether the cold damp of the city would cause her to catch a chill. She’d shivered uncontrollably in her sleep until I’d warmed up the room, forcing me to spend the rest of the night dripping sweat.

And that voice. The strange acoustics of Trollus had filled the city with her song, luring me to her. And when I’d seen her standing in the dark, so fierce and defiant with hair like flames trailing loose down her back… If I wasn’t careful, she would be my undoing.

I turned into the Dregs, negotiating the narrow streets until I came to a ramshackle house leaning against a tavern. Anaïs stood in the shadowy doorway, a smile touching the corners of her lips when she saw me. “You’re late.”

“My most sincere apologies.”

She slid her arms around my neck and leaned in for a kiss, but I turned my face at the last minute so that her lips landed on my cheek. For me, this was a ruse—a valid reason to be skulking around the Dregs in the middle of the night; but for Anaïs, it was something more. Nudging the door open with my foot, I swung her across the threshold, her giggles filling the street until I shut the door behind her.

She clung to me even after I’d dropped my hands from her sides, dangling from my neck like a child. “Let go, Anaïs.”

“What if I don’t want to?” she purred into my ear, holding on easily without assistance. I walked from room to room with her feet banging against my knees, ensuring we were alone in the house, setting barriers against eavesdroppers and whispering to my magic to set off firecrackers if anyone came in.

I looked down at Anaïs. “Please?”

She made a pouty face, but let go of my neck. It was one of the things Angoulême never seemed to understand about his daughter. No one made Anaïs do anything. All you could do was ask and pray she was in an amicable mood. I didn’t thank her though. That would imply she’d done me a favor, and I already owed her enough as it was.

“You’re in a foul temper,” she said, watching as I tossed my hat across the room before flopping face down on the bed.

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