After he left, I tried to find ways to occupy myself in our rooms, but my mind wouldn’t focus. So much had changed in so little time – going back to how things were before I’d fallen for Angoulême’s trickery would be impossible.
Tristan was worried and upset, his uneasiness crawling down my spine like a spider. I wished I knew what was going on. What was he telling the half-bloods? Would they be able to forgive me for what had happened, or had I irreparably damaged my relationship with those who needed our help the most?
Tossing aside the novel I had been trying to read, I went through the doors and out onto the balcony, down the steps to the courtyard where my piano stood. The stack of music sat undisturbed on the bench, and after shuffling through it, I chose a lengthy piece and sat down. I had no great talent – my short fingers prevented that – but I played well within my limitations. I sat at the piano until my fingers ached, but I refused to sing. I would not call him. He would come to me when he was ready.
“You are a talented musician, but I must confess, I prefer to hear you sing.”
The keys jangled harshly beneath my fingers and I froze. Slowly, I looked over my shoulder. The Duke d’Angoulême stood at the base of the stairs, his gold-tipped cane held horizontally between his hands. “Perhaps you’ll sing for me, little bird.”
I shook my head.
“Pity.” He walked towards the piano, and I scrambled to my feet, wanting to keep some distance between us. Not that it would matter. If he’d come here to kill me, there wasn’t much I could do to stop him.
“These are my private gardens,” I said. “You have no right to be here.”
“True.” He ran a finger down the shiny surface of the piano. “But there isn’t much you can do about it, is there?”
“What do you want?”
The corners of his mouth twisted up in a cold parody of a smile. “A great many things, Cécile, and I fully intend to have them.” He picked up the delicate glass rose Tristan had given me, turning it over in his hands. “You caused quite the disturbance yesterday.”
“That was your intention, wasn’t it?”
“Indeed it was, although not in my wildest dreams did I expect it to turn out so well.” He held up my rose as if to smell it, but his eyes were fixed on me. “Did you know that when an infant is born of half troll, half human blood, its magic never reaches half that of its troll parent? And if that child takes up with a human, the resultant child will have almost no magic to speak of. The fact of the matter is, if a child has less than one-eighth troll blood, it has no magic at all. It is as weak and unintelligent as a human, as susceptible to illness and injury.”
I was silent. There was no mistaking his point.
“Magic,” he continued, “is what makes us superior. Any act that diminishes it is an abomination.”
“Except if such an act breaks the curse,” I retorted, my anger rising. “Isn’t that what you mean?”
“But it hasn’t.” He held out the rose. “So all you are is an abomination that has failed to serve any purpose.”
The rose slipped through his fingers. I gasped, diving forward to catch it before it smashed against the paving stones. At my touch, it blossomed a dusky pink.
“You two thought you’d fooled everyone, didn’t you?”
I stared up at him from my knees, fear filling me.
“And perhaps you did. Everyone, that is, except me.” Reaching down, he took hold of my arm and pulled me to my feet. “I confess, you played the part of a hellion-bride quite well. And Tristan, well the boy has been playing something he is not for so long that sometimes I wonder if he remembers who he really is.” He paused, considering his words. “You would know by now that all children receive an identical education until they are ten years of age, at which time they are educated by their respective guilds. Builders’ Guild, Artisans’ Guild, Bakers’ Guild, Miners’ Guild, and so on and so forth.”
“Make your point, Your Grace.” I tried to jerk my arm out of his grip, but his hand was as implacable as a vice.
“My daughter, Ana?s, she isn’t guild-educated. No, I saw early in her life that she had a mind fit for a particular purpose. She is military educated, you see. She is strategic, ruthless, loyal, but…” He sighed. “She is still female – her emotions make her weak.”
I fought to keep fury from rising to my face, but it was difficult.
The Duke leaned on his cane. His position and the way he watched my movements reminded me of a vulture. “Her emotions are what betrayed her. For weeks, she has sobbed herself to sleep every night, and Ana?s is not a girl prone to such behavior. There could be only one cause – that her dear Tristan had abandoned her for another girl. His wife.”