“You can sleep in the bed if you want.” As soon as the words were out my face turned bright red. “I mean, I can sleep on the chaise and you can sleep in the bed. It makes more sense – I’m smaller. You’re really too tall to be sleeping on that thing. Besides, I get plenty of rest.” I clamped my teeth shut to stop my babbling.
One corner of his mouth turned up. “It’s all right, Cécile. You can have the bed – there are other places for me to sleep.”
Which wasn’t at all the answer I’d been looking for.
Silence stretched long beyond the point of awkwardness. He was incredibly nervous, which was making me nervous. I plucked at the blanket, folding it into tighter and tighter pleats. Think of something to say, I ordered myself, but everything I came up with sounded stupid or boring.
“I understand my father suggested you seduce me,” he said abruptly, the words tumbling over each other. “Apparently he considers me susceptible to such things.”
“Or overestimates my skills,” I said, with a nervous laugh, glancing at the gown hanging across the room. “Perhaps your aunt can arrange for me to have lessons so that I can improve my chances of success.”
“You don’t need lessons,” he replied. The light hanging above him flared brightly and he glanced up at it before mumbling, “I mean you don’t… I don’t know what I mean. I haven’t slept all night. Forget I said anything. I’m only here for a change of clothes and then I’ll be gone.” Our combined mortification made my toes curl.
His fingers made small shadows on the wall as he unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off and laying it across the back of a chair for one of the girls to launder. I stared at his naked back, the hard contours of muscle rippling as he reached into the closet for a clean shirt. A slow-burning warmth filled me that had nothing to do with the extra blankets he’d given me. He froze, sensing the direction my mind was going. Squeezing my eyes shut, I waited for him to make some snide comment that would make me look like a silly fool for admiring him.
He was silent and seconds later, his light winked out. Instead of confidence and conceit, I felt discomfort and a hint of embarrassment. I heard the faint rustle of fabric and the closet doors clicked shut. I tried to think about worms, sluag, even chamber pots, anything to distract me from the thought that the most handsome boy I’d ever met was undressing across the room from me. I was the one that was supposed to be seducing him, not the other way around.
There was a thud that sounded unmistakably like a collision between troll and furniture. “Bloody hell,” he swore under his breath.
“Tristan?”
I could hear him breathing; feel the soft edge of apprehension. “Yes?”
“Can you see in the dark?”
He laughed softly. “Given I just walked into a table, I would suggest not. I’m not a bat, you know.” His light winked back on.
I buried my face in a pillow, embarrassed. “Forget I said anything,” I mumbled. He walked by the bed on his way to the door. “Wait. Where are you going?”
“I’ve things to see to.”
“The tree?”
He was quiet for a moment. “What do you know about the tree?”
“That it’s a magic version of what you plan to…” I broke off at the warning expression on his face. But if I was going to get him to trust me, I needed to spend time with him. “Will you show it to me?”
He bit his bottom lip and eyed me thoughtfully. “I suppose we would only be following His Majesty’s orders.”
“Only a fool would dare not to.” Scrambling out of bed, I snatched up the altered gown and wriggled into it. “Let’s go.”
“So where is it?” I asked, peering down the cobbled lane while I hurried to keep up with his long stride. The dawn shone through the small hole above, but even the faint light was strangely comforting. It drove away the sense of never ending night that had afflicted me since my arrival.
“I’ll show you soon enough, but first we must consult with Pierre.” He hesitated, then reached down and fastened up my cloak. “You’ll catch a chill showing that much skin.”
Sighing, I followed him up a set of stairs and into a small home that was cluttered and in need of a good dusting.
“Morning, Pierre!” Tristan shouted as we entered. “Any movement since yesterday?”
“Quiet as a grave,” a high-pitched voice shouted back, and moments later, a badly crippled troll flew into the room, seated on what appeared to be a stool with wheels. He was very small, his back contorted in a strange s-shape, but worst of all, he appeared to have no legs. Without the stool and his magic, I doubted he would have the ability to move very far at all.
“Or would have been,” he continued, rolling to a stop, “if the Barons Dense and Denser hadn’t gotten it into their skulls to have a rock-throwing contest outside my house last night.”
Tristan sighed and looked at me as if it was my fault. “I’ll speak to them about it later.”
“Bah!” The troll threw up his hands. “They’ll just think of another way to disturb the peace. Perhaps next time one of them will do us all a favor and drop a rock on the other’s head. But who is this that you have with you?”