Page 79 of Stolen Songbird

Moving as fast as I dared, I felt my way up the steps until I reached the narrow platform and reached out for the cold bars. Fumbling around in my hair, I pulled a metal pin from my coiled locks. “Please work,” I whispered falling to my knees. Inserting the pin into the lock, I twisted it, waiting for the telltale click.

It stuck.

“Please, please, please,” I chanted, trying again.

Nothing. I glanced back at the city, half-expecting to see someone running up the steps to prevent my escape, but I was alone. Unlike the gate to the River Road, this entrance was devoid of any troll soldiers. The labyrinth needed no guardian. Its very nature was deterrent enough.

Gritting my teeth together, I jammed the hairpin back inside the lock and closed my eyes, working by touch. Then, with a click, the lock sprung open.

22

Tristan

Islumped against the wall, head in my hands, stone digging into my spine. Everything was falling apart—Angoulême would not have been so open with his threats unless he was certain. The man was a cold-hearted devil, but no fool. It wouldn’t be long until he played his cards, and I was certain those cards would involve Cécile. If he thought the rewards worth it, he would not hesitate to break my father’s laws. Most likely it would be a threat against her life that would force me to reveal my plots or watch her die. And risk dying along with her. Or, if he thought she knew anything, he might just take her and torture the information out of her. Once, I might have been able to see it through—to watch an innocent girl die for the greater good.

But no longer. Now I was certain that I’d sacrifice everything to save her.

The sound of footsteps caught my attention and I raised my head to see Marc coming towards me. A barrier of magic snapped up around us. “What the bloody hell is going on?” he asked. “I just saw Angoulême walking down the street looking like he’d been offered the keys to the treasure room.”

I grimaced and stared at the tops of my boots. “More like the crown itself. He saw me with Cécile.”

“What of it?” Marc retorted. “No one can expect you to avoid her completely.”

“In a compromising position.”

“Oh.” Marc’s voice softened. “I see.”

“He knows, Marc,” I said. “He’s always suspected where my true sympathies lie, but now he knows the way to force my hand. He’ll use her, mark my words.”

“And if he does?”

I swallowed hard and looked up at my cousin, my best friend. The only person in this world I trusted, and even he did not know all my secrets. “I didn’t think this would happen,” I pleaded. “I didn’t think I would care for her this way…” I broke off. “I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Marc said. “If you didn’t care about her life, then you wouldn’t be the man I thought you were.”

“It’s more than that.”

Marc chuckled. “Oh, I know. Trust me, I know. Now, where has she gotten off to?”

I raked my fingers through my hair. “She ran off. Angoulême told her I was having an affair with Anaïs.”

“But you’re not.”

“I know!” I snapped, my frustration rising. “But I couldn’t very well admit that in front of him.”

“Well, go find her now and tell her the truth!”

I raised my head, eyes drawn north towards the falls, her misery a magnet to my own. She must have run without stopping to be so far away.

Too far away.

I leapt to my feet.

“What is it? Has something happened?” There was alarm in Marc’s voice—he was fond of Cécile. He also knew better than most what would happen if she died.

My heart skittered and a wave of dizziness swept over me. “She’s in the labyrinth.”

23

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