“That’s not enough,” I said; then, before he could lash out, I added, “But, if you give me your word that if you succeed in bringing down Tristan and putting Roland on the throne, that you’ll let me leave this house to be with Marc – that you won’t stand in the way of us being together – I’ll…” I gave him the grimmest nod I could manage.
He stared at me unblinking, like a snake poised to strike. Then he laughed, the tone harsh and mocking, and I took an involuntary step back, certain he’d seen through my manipulation.
“Oh, dear, sweet little Pénélope, you have my word.” I felt the flux of magic with his promise, but the tears of mirth running down his face made me feel as though I’d won no victory.
“If you help my plans succeed, I promise that I not only won’t stand in the way of your union, I’ll throw you a party fit for a queen.”
My skin crawled, but there was no turning back now. “Good. Perhaps we will both get what we want.” Not waiting for him to respond, I rose to my feet and hurried from the room, his laughter trailing in my wake.
Chapter Fifteen
Marc
I have to get her out of that house. The same thought had circulated my head a hundred times since I’d sent Pénélope on her way with a dangerous plan that might work for a few days, even a few weeks, but not for the three years Tristan envisioned it would take for him to seize the throne.
Not even close.
Which meant I needed to come up with something else, some way to get her out from under the Duke’s thumb. Yet though everything had changed for me, and for her, nothing had changed in that regard. There was no easy solution, and I felt the press of the mountain and the curse keenly as I paced the grounds of my home waiting for news that the Duke had caught Pénélope in her trickery, because there was no escape. There was nowhere we could hide. There was no one who could – or would – help us.
My eyes involuntarily went to the beam of sunlight tracking across Trollus through the lone opening in the rock above, the opening that revealed the moon for a brief time each night. I wanted to be bonded to Pénélope – that hadn’t changed, and now I had even more incentive. The Duke couldn’t touch her if she was bonded to the nephew of the King. She’d be safe. But the élixir de la Lune required for the magic to occur was the property of the crown, and even if I stole it, there was no chance of us making it through the ceremony without being interrupted. And even if we did, there was the matter of the consequences of having done it without my uncle’s permission.
“My lord?”
I whirled to find a servant wearing Angoulême livery had approached, my stomach flip-flopping as he held out a card embossed in red.
Marc,
I’d be most happy to accept your invitation for dinner tomorrow night.
With affection,
Pénélope
Beneath her signature was a tiny sketch of a dragonfly, beautiful in its detail, although she’d probably drawn it in a matter of moments. And it was especially precious to me, as it signified that all had gone according to plan. That by making the Duke believe she had something to gain from Tristan’s downfall that she had alleviated any suspicion he might have that she was holding information back.
For now.
Nodding at the servant to signal he could depart, I sat heavily on a bench, allowing my light to fade to darkness. As the rush of fear that had been sustaining me faded, I felt my lack of sleep settle on me along with the urge to shirk the countless duties awaiting me in favor of a nap. But it was not to be.
“Marc!”
I started at the sound of Tristan’s voice from beyond the wall, abruptly certain that letting down my guard had been premature, then I heard Vincent say, “We know you’re hiding in the dark over there. Come out, come out.”
“Title to whoever finds him first?” Victoria asked.
“Done. Tristan, you count us off?”
Sighing, I rose and went to the gate in the wall, resting my chin on the silver bars and regarding my friends. All three wore light armor, swords strapped to their waists and glittering sluag spears held loosely in their hands. The sight of my cousin sent a stab of guilt through my gut. I’d gone expressly against his orders by revealing our plot to Pénélope, and I didn’t know how to tell him that I’d done so. He needed to know what she’d learned while spying on her father – the depths of the Duke’s suspicions – but my mind raced with ways to relay the information that wouldn’t cause him to suspect her as the source.
Thankfully, out in the open like this with the twins looking on wasn’t an opportune time for confessions, allowing me to defer the conversation until later. Or never, a little voice whispered inside my head.
“We need the key,” Tristan said, resting the butt of his spear on the ground. “And your company.”
Sluag hunting – or more precisely, pretending to hunt sluag – was the last thing I wanted to do. “I have a number of things requiring my attention. The markets–”
“Nothing more important than this,” Tristan interrupted. “The twins passed their examinations, and this is how they wish to celebrate.”
“Did you pass?” I asked, not because there was any doubt, but because I wanted to annoy him.
He only laughed. “I could teach those guild masters a thing or two. They lack vision.”
“And you lack humility.”
“A side effect of the title. I’ve been told there’s every chance it will worsen once I’m sitting on the golden chair with the golden hat slowly compressing my neck.”
I snorted, then swung open the gate, because there would be no dissuading him. “I’ll get the key.”
* * *
We approached the labyrinth gates in silence, full-bloods and half-bloods alike stepping aside before bowing or curtseying as our foursome passed, some murmuring well-wishes for the hunt. Power mattered little against the sluag, their strange magic nullifying ours, making the massive slug-like creatures as much a danger to a Montigny as they were to the nearly human sewer workers. Which was, of course, why we hunted them.
Ana?s sat on the steps leading up to the gate, sluag spear resting on her leather-clad legs, the crimson scales of her armor glimmering.
“I thought you were minding my brother today?” Tristan asked, casting a backward glance at the city.
“I’m not his nurse,” she replied. “Besides, my father arrived to take over his minding. And you really have no business hunting sluag without me to watch your back.”
“Then let’s get on with it.” Tristan turned to me. “Will you grant us passage, gatekeeper?”