Sucking in a mouthful of the burning air, I screamed. The sound was shrill and terrified, like a dying animal.
Then Ana?s was there. Dressed in boy’s clothes, she smashed through the glass-paned doors like a warrior maiden of legend. She rolled to her feet, the force of her magic sending the King staggering into the corner. Tristan fell away from the wall, his chest heaving as he sucked in precious air. The air in the room compressed again as their joint power dueled with the King.
It did not take long. As Angoulême had said, Ana?s was military trained. And unlike Tristan, she was utterly ruthless.
“Got him,” Ana?s shouted with triumph, and my ears popped as the battle ended. The King slumped to his knees, holding up one hand in apparent defeat.
“Now it is your turn to do what I say,” Tristan said, striding across the room. “You’ll let us bring help for Cécile. You won’t interfere or threaten her life anymore. And I want your word on it.”
“And if I refuse?”
Tristan’s face hardened. “Then you die.”
Thibault cowered before his son. “You won’t kill your own father,” he pleaded. “That would make you a monster – not the sort of man your dear wife wants you to be.”
Tristan’s face turned in my direction. I saw the King reach for something on the floor and shouted a garbled warning. The lights flashed out, including mine, and all I could hear was the crash of something heavy hitting the floor, a wet thud, and a soft cry of pain. One orb of light flickered back into existence: the King’s. Tristan lay on the floor, conscious, but bound with cords that glowed when he fought against them. Ana?s lay against the far wall, a sluag spear embedded in her chest.
“It seems you are to face the same fate as your sister,” the King said, walking over to caress the side of Ana?s’ face. “Pity. You were a lovely thing to look at.”
She spat, a glob of spit which flew through the air only to be brushed away by a bit of magic.
He frowned. “Foolish girl.” Grabbing the haft of the steel spear, he jammed it the rest of the way through her chest. Ana?s tried to scream, but it came out as a gurgle, blood staining her lips. Her fingers latched on the spear, but she did not pull it out. The King laughed and turned from her to me.
I was terrified. Dying was an easy thing to accomplish, effortless in its agony. It was living that was hard, requiring endless toil and labor, and for all one’s efforts, it could be stolen in an instant. My entire time in Trollus had been one long struggle at death’s doorstep. But instead of breaking my will to live, it had made me stronger. I wasn’t just fighting for my life, I was fighting for Tristan’s.
Nor was I completely powerless.
“Poor Cécile,” he said. “Poor fragile human, how you suffer so. I want to let you live, but I feel you will forever be a liability for him.”
I saw Tristan shout something, but heard nothing – the King had blocked away the sound of our voices. But not Ana?s, she was closer.
“You’ve no intention of letting me die,” I choked out. “Why else bring a witch into Trollus to save me?”
“True,” the King said, stepping in between Tristan and me so that we were blocked from each other’s sight. “But Tristan doesn’t know that – and even here, he controls the actions of his half-breeds on the streets. He has their names. I want this played through to the end. I want to see how far he will go.”
The half-bloods were dying in the streets for me – I had to do something.
“I opened Anushka’s grimoire,” I whispered. For all the politics and intrigue between Tristan and his father, I knew that the King’s desire to break the curse trumped them all.
He hesitated.
“I know her secrets – the magic she used against the trolls. If you stop this now, I’ll tell you everything.”
The King laughed. “Oh? If you have the witch’s spells, why don’t you use them now?”
The smell of blood was thick on the air, heady and metallic. Ana?s moved, the end of the sluag spear dragging against the carpets. I didn’t dare look in her direction, though. I could only trust that she would know what to do.
“You’re lying,” he said, leaning over me. “You know nothing.”
My breath came in short, shallow gasps. With every minute that passed, more people would die. And I had only once chance to end this.
“I know enough to stop you,” I whispered.
A cup flew across the room and blood splattered against the King’s face, hot droplets raining down onto my cheeks. The northern words felt foreign on my lips, but I instinctively knew what they meant.
Bind the light.
I felt strength surge into me, rising from the earth beneath us. Wind rushed through the room, cold and fresh, pushing away the burned stench of the battle. But as it had when I healed Tristan in the labyrinth, it was from the blood that I drew power, directing the strange magic in a way no troll could use it.
“Not possible,” the King hissed.