“Oh, you didn’t know?” Angoulême wrinkled his lip. “Where did you think he was going every night, girl? In my experience, there is only one thing that drives a man from a warm bed and that’s the bed of another.”
“Tristan, what is he talking about?” I asked, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. Shame mixed with fury seeped into my mind.
“Can’t even deny it, can you, boy?”
Tristan’s hands balled into fists, but he didn’t refute what Angoulême was saying. The pain of betrayal flooded through me. I’d trusted him. I’d put my fate in his hands thinking he was working to set me free, and the whole time he’d been sneaking off to meet with another girl. Worst of all, I’d thought he’d cared – that beneath the act necessitated by our circumstances he’d wanted things to be different. Wanted me.
Snatching up my skirts, I ran, my boots making faint slapping noises against the paving stones, the beam of my light bouncing as I raced through the winding back lanes of the city. Up and up the valley I went until I reached the waterfall, the spray dampening my dress as I stood staring up at the hole through which it fell. The Devil’s Cauldron, and I was in hell itself. Misery doused my anger like a bucket of water on flames, and I clenched a hand against the sharp pain rising up beneath my ribs. And the worst of it was that I knew I’d brought this pain upon myself. I’d been a fool to care about Tristan and doubly a fool to hope that he might feel the same for me.
I stood with my eyes closed, waiting for someone to tell me to step back from the edge of the waterfall and go back to the palace that was my prison. Then it dawned on me – I was alone. My eyelids snapped opened and I took stock of my situation. Tristan had dismissed my guards, and they hadn’t argued – why should they when Tristan was more than capable of controlling me? But Tristan hadn’t moved from the spot where I’d left him. If there was ever a chance, this was it.
Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I stared up the flight of stone steps that led to the gate and the shadows beyond. Sweat trickled down my back as I gazed up into the darkness. Turning, I stared down the valley towards the glowing city. There was nothing for me there. But if I made it through… I thought of my grandmother and the rest of my family. Of Sabine. The wide open spaces of the countryside. I remembered the heat of the sun on my face and the sweet pleasure of freedom. The choice was obvious.
Moving as fast as I dared, I felt my way up the steps until I reached the narrow platform and reached out for the cold bars. Fumbling around in my hair, I pulled a metal pin from my coiled locks. “Please work,” I whispered falling to my knees. Inserting the pin into the lock, I twisted it, waiting for the telltale click.
It stuck.
“Please, please, please,” I chanted, trying again.
Nothing. I glanced back at the city, half-expecting to see someone running up the steps to prevent my escape, but I was alone. Unlike the gate to the River Road, this entrance was devoid of any troll soldiers. The labyrinth needed no guardian. Its very nature was deterrent enough.
Gritting my teeth together, I jammed the hairpin back inside the lock and closed my eyes, working by touch. Then, with a click, the lock sprung open.
CHAPTER 22
TRISTAN
I slumped against the wall, head in my hands, stone digging into my spine. Everything was falling apart – Angoulême would not have been so open with his threats unless he was certain. The man was a cold-hearted devil, but no fool. It wouldn’t be long until he played his cards, and I was certain those cards would involve Cécile. If he thought the rewards worth it, he would not hesitate to break my father’s laws. Most likely it would be a threat against her life that would force me to reveal my plots or watch her die. And risk dying along with her. Or, if he thought she knew anything, he might just take her and torture the information out of her. Once, I might have been able to see it through – to watch an innocent girl die for the greater good.
But no longer. Now I was certain that I’d sacrifice everything to save her.
The sound of footsteps caught my attention and I raised my head to see Marc coming towards me. A barrier of magic snapped up around us. “What the bloody hell is going on?” he asked. “I just saw Angoulême walking down the street looking like he’d been offered the keys to the treasure room.”
I grimaced and stared at the tops of my boots. “More like the crown itself. He saw me with Cécile.”
“What of it?” Marc retorted. “No one can expect you to avoid her completely.”
“In a compromising position.”
“Oh.” Marc’s voice softened. “I see.”
“He knows, Marc,” I said. “He’s always suspected where my true sympathies lie, but now he knows the way to force my hand. He’ll use her, mark my words.”
“And if he does?”