Page 99 of Stolen Songbird

Turning down an alley, I rounded a corner to get a better view of the market and froze. Cécile was talking to Jérôme Girard’s son, Christophe. Almost without thinking, I ordered my magic to dim, letting the shadows wrap round me like a cloak.

So you can better spy on your wife.

Christophe handed her a peach, and I watched her bite into it, the yellow juices trickling down her slender fingers. She was at ease with him in a way she wasn’t with me, and it was obvious that he fancied her from the way he twitched about, the color on his cheeks, and the way he peeked down the bodice of her dress when she wasn’t looking. I felt a scowl rise to my face. He was good enough looking, I supposed. Shorter than I was, but broader, with the thick muscles all the farmers seemed to have. His hair was the color of the hay his mule was munching on, and brilliant blue eyes shone out of his tanned face. Normally he was the smiling sort, which always put me on edge—anyone who smiled all the time clearly suffered from a mental imbalance—but today his mouth was set straight in a frown. Whatever he was telling Cécile had upset her—I could feel her anguish thick on my mind—and I watched her drop the peach then bury her face in her hands. What had he said? I’d have heard about it if something had happenedoutside, so it wasn’t to do with her family. He was probably making up some lie about me or Trollus—something that would turn her against us.

I fought the urge to go to her side, to tell Christophe to bugger off while I comforted my wife. My Cécile. Mine.

For now. Until she leaves you to rot in the dark.

I shuddered, suppressing the thought. They were arguing now, but I couldn’t hear their words. If I used magic to amplify them, everyone near the alley would hear them as well. What he was telling her was eliciting surprise and bewilderment, which meant more lies. Cécile closed her eyes, and I saw her lips form my name.Tristan isn’t… I couldn’t make out the rest. I wasn’t what? What lies was he telling about me? Or worse, what truths?

My hands balled into fists of frustration as I watched the human boy reach down and take her hand, his thumb stroking her knuckles. I could see plainly on his face that he wanted to do more. And she didn’t pull away. She was conflicted. My chest felt hollow and I could feel my breath coming in short little gasps. He was going to take her away from me. Fury like nothing I had felt before filled the space where emptiness had once been, and I strode out into the market.

Cécile’s guards started in surprise as I pushed past them. “Don’t interfere,” I hissed. “In fact, make yourselves scarce. I’ll handle this one.”

30

Cécile

Christophe handed me a peach from a basket in the cart and I bit into it, relishing the sweet juices that filled my mouth and trickled down my fingers. “Summer is nearly gone then?” I asked, eyeing the cart full of produce.

“Aye. Harvests have already begun.” He frowned, his tanned skin crinkling a bit around eyes as blue as my own. “Just one endless season down here, I reckon.”

I shrugged. Snagging another peach from the cart, I sat down on the fountain edge and bit into it. Chris moved over to sit next to me, but the dark glares on my guards’ faces made him lean against the wagon instead.

“Have you seen my family? Are they well?” It was information I probably could have gotten from the trolls’ many spies, but it was better coming from Chris, who knew me. Knew my family.

“I saw Fred in the Trianon markets a week ago,” Chris said, picking at one of his fingernails. “He’s not been back to the farm much, I don’t think, though he says your father and gran are well. I think he…”

“You think he?” I prompted, curious.

Chris sighed, letting his hands fall to his sides. “I think he blames himself for not being in Goshawk’s Hollow—thinks if he’d been riding with you, nothing would have happened. And it’s been so long now. No sign of bones, but also no word from you, so everyone thinks that you’re…”

“Dead.”

He nodded and lowered his voice. “I’d tell him otherwise, if I could, but I can’t even get my lips to form the words. Makes me sick to my stomach to even try. I’m sorry, Cécile.”

I stared at the half-eaten peach in my hand, not feeling hungry anymore. It was one thing to know that my family missed me, but quite another to know my brother blamed himself for my disappearance.

“Fred was talking about resigning his post with the Regent to go looking for you. Now he was drunk as a skunk when he told me this, mind you,” Chris added, “but I know for a fact that your mother has offered a reward for any news about where you are. I think it’s she who’s pushing him to it.”

I buried my face in my hands. “He can’t do that. All he ever wanted was to be a soldier!” From between my fingers I mumbled, “My mother, she… she was upset that I left?”

“Aye. Tore up her apartments in the palace and then had the Regent send soldiers out to scour the countryside for you.”

“She did?” I looked up, stunned. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought my mother would be so grieved by my loss.

Chris nodded and to my surprise, he knelt down in front of me. I inhaled, and I could smell the tang of ocean spray, the sweetness of hay, and the hint of sweat from exertion under the sun. He smelled human. He smelled like home.

“She’s offered fifty gold pieces for word of you, Cécile. And she’s a wealthy woman—she could pay more. Enough to buy you from them.”

I felt suddenly cold and the peach fell from my stiff fingers, rolling next to the wagon wheel. “No.”

“Just think it through, Cécile. The trolls love their gold. Your mother could pay them whatever it is they wanted, you could swear magic oaths to keep your mouth shut about Trollus, and you’d be free.”

“No.” It was the only word I could manage.

“It could happen, Cécile,” Chris insisted, mistaking the meaning of my refusal. “For trolls, there is always a price. We just have to figure out what yours is.”

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