Page 78 of Stolen Songbird

Tristan’s shock mirrored my own, but while I was busy scrambling to my feet and smoothing my skirts, he merely folded an arm behind his head and crossed his booted ankles. “Afternoon, Your Grace. Cécile, this is the Duke d’Angoulême.”

“I’m not interested in being introduced to your pet, Tristan.” The Duke leaned on his golden-handled cane. “But I am interested to know why you are cavorting with it in the shadows.”

“I had a pet mouse once,” Tristan said. “I kept it in a box in my wardrobe and fed it cheese and bread crusts until one of the maids tattled on me to my mother. Not that she cared, of course, but when my father found out, he took my mouse away. He said to me, ‘Tristan, if you are to ever have a pet anything, it will be a pet of my choosing, and it certainly won’t be a mouse.’” Tristan smiled. “When my father gives me an order, I’ve always found it’s in my best interest to listen.”

“I’m well aware that the decision for you to bond this creature was your father’s,” the Duke said, his voice frigid. “I am also aware that you protested mightily against the union—I was one of the unfortunate few forced to listen to you go on at length.” He smiled. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

A flash of irritation seared through our bond, but Angoulême never would have guessed it. “Dreadfully funny reason, really.” Tristan smirked. “Or it would be, if you had a sense of humor to speak of, Angoulême.”

“Try me.”

“I was walking along, listening to the girl prattle on about something she no doubt considered very important, when out of nowhere she shoved me clear off my feet.”

“Something we’ve all wanted to do,” the Duke said.

Tristan made a face. “What an awful thing to say. Anyway, when I inquired as to her motivation for the unexpected act of violence, I discovered that she was of the mistaken belief that trolls turned to stone when exposed to the sun’s rays.” He pointed at the beam of sunlight that had moved a few inches further away. “Dear thing thought she was saving my life.”

“What reason have you given her to want to do that?”

“I asked myself the very same question,” Tristan said, rising to his feet.

“Did you come to any conclusions?”

Tristan raised both his hands and shrugged. “Tale as old as time, I suppose. Human women throwing themselves at our feet, blinded by beauty, power, wealth. No matter how they are used and abused, they always come back for more. Like loyal dogs.” He smirked. “Did you expect this one to be any different?”

In the past, his words had always been softened by the guilt he felt in saying them, but this time all I felt was vicious animosity. I tried to unravel his words—to see how I was different from those women—but I couldn’t. He did treat me poorly, and what had I just done if not thrown myself at his feet. My skin crawled with the realization of how pathetic that made me, but reason still governed my mind enough to know that I needed to play along; needed to play my part. “Is that what you think I am? A dog? Some poor beast you can pat on the head or kick in the ribs as suits your pleasure?”

Tristan laughed. “Not literally, of course. I’ve yet to hear you bark.”

It was too much.

I slapped him hard enough that my palm burned and my arm ached from the impact, but the pain was sweet. Raising my hand, I swung it again, but he caught my wrist, his motion so fast it seemed a blur. Fast enough that I knew he could have stopped my first blow if he’d wanted to.

“When a dog bites,” the Duke said softly, “you put it down.”

Tristan pulled me aside, stepping between me and the Duke. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Your Grace? Kill her on the chance I wouldn’t survive it? My brother—your ward—becomes heir to the throne. How long until my father suffers an untimely death and you become king of Trollus in all but name?”

“Big accusations, boy,” the Duke hissed. “And I confess, I find it more than a little ironic that you of all people dare to accuse me of treason.” He jabbed a long white finger against Tristan’s chest. “I know what you are, Your Highness, and where your true sympathies lie. When I find proof, it will be the end of you.”

“You’ll be looking for a long time, Your Grace,” Tristan said coolly, but I could feel the fury running through his veins. Fury and fear.

“Perhaps,” the Duke replied. His eyes raked over me and he smiled. “Tell me, Tristan, how does your pet human feel about your ongoing affair with Anaïs? Or does she really hate you so much that she doesn’t care?”

I staggered back, my veins filled with ice. “What do you mean ongoing?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Angoulême wrinkled his lip. “Where did you think he was going every night, girl? In my experience, there is only one thing that drives a man from a warm bed and that’s the bed of another.”

“Tristan, what is he talking about?” I asked, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. Shame mixed with fury seeped into my mind.

“Can’t even deny it, can you, boy?”

Tristan’s hands balled into fists, but he didn’t refute what Angoulême was saying. The pain of betrayal flooded through me. I’d trusted him. I’d put my fate in his hands thinking he was working to set me free, and the whole time he’d been sneaking off to meet with another girl. Worst of all, I’d thought he’d cared—that beneath the act necessitated by our circumstances he’d wanted things to be different. Wanted me.

Snatching up my skirts, I ran, my boots making faint slapping noises against the paving stones, the beam of my light bouncing as I raced through the winding back lanes of the city. Up and up the valley I went until I reached the waterfall, the spray dampening my dress as I stood staring up at the hole through which it fell. The Devil’s Cauldron, and I was in hell itself. Misery doused my anger like a bucket of water on flames, and I clenched a hand against the sharp pain rising up beneath my ribs. And the worst of it was that I knew I’d brought this pain upon myself. I’d been a fool to care about Tristan and doubly a fool to hope that he might feel the same for me.

I stood with my eyes closed, waiting for someone to tell me to step back from the edge of the waterfall and go back to the palace that was my prison. Then it dawned on me—I was alone. My eyelids snapped opened and I took stock of my situation. Tristan had dismissed my guards, and they hadn’t argued—why should they when Tristan was more than capable of controlling me? But Tristan hadn’t moved from the spot where I’d left him. If there was ever a chance, this was it.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I stared up the flight of stone steps that led to the gate and the shadows beyond. Sweat trickled down my back as I gazed up into the darkness. Turning, I stared down the valley towards the glowing city. There was nothing for me there. But if I made it through… I thought of my grandmother and the rest of my family. Of Sabine. The wide open spaces of the countryside. I remembered the heat of the sun on my face and the sweet pleasure of freedom. The choice was obvious.

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