Tristan continued. “He’s never ordered the execution of a full-blooded troll – there are too few of us left – but he orders the deaths of half-bloods for the slightest offence. And they are never clean deaths.”
Gruesome, horrible deeds, but such is the nature of kings – human or troll. I could understand the Duchesse wanting to see him dead because of what had been done to her friend, but what had pushed Tristan over the edge so that he would consider killing his own father?
As though anticipating the question, Tristan said, “I had a human friend, once. He was old and wore funny clothes. He always brought me candy and told me stories. He never treated me like I was a prince or even like I was a troll – he treated me like I was just a boy. My father killed him to punish me.” He lowered his head. “I couldn’t do anything to stop him. I was young and helpless against him. But I’m not anymore.”
Closing my eyes, I shuffled through his emotions. Fear. Shame. Doubt. And how did I feel about becoming an accomplice in a murder plot? I hated his father – he’d arranged for my kidnapping, ruined my life. To him, I was a tool here to serve a purpose, and ultimately, disposable. But could I stand by and see a man killed? I didn’t need to think long or hard. In this case, not only would I willingly stand by, I’d stick the knife in myself. If that made me a bad person, then so be it. But even with the King dead, one fundamental problem remained.
“The sympathizers,” I said. “They don’t just want to be rid of your father – they want to be rid of all the troll nobility so that there’s no one powerful enough left to lord over them. What’s to stop them from killing all your friends, all your family, other than the fact they need you to keep Forsaken Mountain off their heads?” Then the realization dawned on me: he was waiting until he was in power before breaking the curse. Not only would he be king, he’d be a hero to his people. I opened my mouth to say as much, but then snapped it shut again. Withholding freedom from a city full of people was certainly a dangerous secret, but knowing he was doing so did nothing to explain the purpose of his diagrams. “Well?” I finally asked.
He took a deep breath. “Are we in agreement then? You will tell me the location of all my papers in exchange for me explaining their contents?”
“Yes,” I said. What could be more important than the knowledge he was purposefully keeping the curse in place? “I agree.”
“You must understand: Marc, Ana?s, and the twins are the only ones who know. And I only trust them because I have their true…” He broke off. “Why I trust them is irrelevant. My point is, I have no such assurance from you.”
I said nothing. Telling him he could trust me wouldn’t make a difference. I could lie.
Tristan took a deep breath. “The documents contain the plans for building a structure that would support the rock.”
“No magic required,” I whispered.
“Not after I finish building it.”
“But to what purpose?” I demanded. “Once you are king, won’t you just do what is necessary to break the curse? With it gone, couldn’t you fling off all the rock, or… or, leave this place?”
“That is a possibility.” There was no emotion in his voice, but I could see the forced rise and fall of his chest. He was controlling his breathing, trying to control his emotions so that I couldn’t read him. But why? What more was he hiding?
I bit my lip. “You don’t think the curse can be broken, do you?”
He sucked in a deep breath and sighed. “It may be too much to ask for.”
“Low expectations, right?”
“You’ve a good memory,” he said. “I know I can build. I have no such certainty about how to end our imprisonment.”
Which was just as well for me. Once I escaped this place, I’d sleep far better at night knowing the trolls could not get out. Pushing aside those thoughts, I turned my attention back to his plans.
“But if you build this for the half-bloods, they wouldn’t need you anymore,” I said. “What’s to stop them from killing you? Get you out of the way rather than risk future enslavement?”
“Goodwill?” he said, a faint smile touching his lips. “They could call me Tristan the Liberator and compose songs in my honor.”
“My question was serious, Tristan,” I replied. “And what of all the full-blooded trolls? Will they kill them all?”
“Hardly,” he said. “I’ve negotiated the safety of most. There is a list of names they have sworn not to harm.”
I shook my head. “I can’t see all of them thanking you for freeing their servants. For diminishing their power.”
“And there lies the rub,” he said softly. “In freeing thousands from servitude, I will be gaining many powerful enemies. I have no doubt the attempts on my life will come often and regularly. But the benefits of the many are worth the risks to myself.”
I bit my lip. “You don’t seem as concerned as you should.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “I’m exceedingly difficult to kill.”