I sat back on my haunches, watching yet another cartload of sleeping islanders trundle past, headed to the prison, which had been deemed the only safe place to keep them. Except for the children – Marie had insisted they all be brought to the castle, where she’d enlisted several of the newly arrived trolls to watch over them in case any woke.
But it was a stopgap. Asleep, they could neither eat nor drink, and we hadn’t the resources to tend to each individual as we had with Aiden. The young lord remained under my spell – and Zoé’s watchful eye – his mother insisting he remain so until we’d won the day. And if we lost, well… It wouldn’t matter at that point if the King’s compulsion had destroyed his mind or not.
“Is Tristan still unconscious?” Marc knelt next to me, handing me a steaming tin cup.
I nodded, trying not to let my fear show. Too easily, I conjured up Vincent’s face, devoid of all that made him him, and wondered if the same had happened to Tristan. Whether he lay somewhere, alone, with a head injury so traumatic that even his seemingly endless power hadn’t been able to overcome it. After all, his power hadn’t been able to help Vincent.
“Victoria and Chris are looking,” Marc said. “They’ll find him.”
“I should go.” My eyes burned, but I was so drained, it felt like there were no tears left to spill. “I could find him.”
“If that’s what you want.”
His tone was careful, and I knew it was his way of saying that to do so would be a mistake. “Just say what you’re thinking, Marc,” I muttered, knowing I shouldn’t be sharp with him. That Trianon wasn’t in total chaos was all thanks to him and Tips. The injured were being cared for, the dead put to rest, and the walls rebuilt, and though the city had been through hell and back, there was no sense of hopelessness.
The sound of trolls and humans hard at work fell away, and Marc pulled forward his hood to conceal his lips from sharp eyes. “No one knows that Roland defeated Tristan yet,” he said. “And for now, we need to keep it that way. Trollus has chosen to rally behind him, but if they knew the truth…”
“That might change,” I finished for him.
He nodded. “Angoulême likely saw how Trollus helped the people of Courville who were on those skiffs, and he’ll know what that means, so he will be eager to inform them of Tristan’s demise – that their chosen one is, to his knowledge, a dead man.”
“So what do you think he’ll do?”
Marc’s eyes went distant as he thought. “The news of Tristan’s death would throw Trollus and Trianon into chaos. The humans would have lost their protector, and the trolls would be faced with the decision of whether to accept Roland or rally behind a new candidate as king or queen. The latter will cause infighting that will lead to even more upheaval until someone lands on top. He’ll want to attack now rather than risk fighting a new, unified front.”
“If we find Tristan, won’t they fight for him?”
Marc blew out a breath between his teeth, the expression in his unblinking eyes answering my question, and sickness burned the back of my throat. Whether Trollus remained loyal would depend on what state Tristan was in, and as it was, there was no chance he’d be recovered by the time Roland and Angoulême arrived to attack.
“Of a surety, some of the Duke’s followers survived the battle, and they’ll be running to meet him with the news that not only are you alive, you’re well enough to perform magic, which will make him suspect Tristan survived the battle with his brother.”
“Will that keep him from attacking?”
He shook his head. “I think it will only cause him to move faster – to strike before Tristan has the chance to recover.”
“Surely we can hold against him,” I said. “We’ve hundreds of trolls here, plus all the half-bloods and human soldiers.”
“But at what cost?” Marc asked. “Angoulême will walk up to the gates and inform everyone in straight terms that Roland has defeated his brother. He will give them a chance to capitulate or face Roland’s wrath. What do you think they’ll choose?”
“Then what?” I snapped, my temper fraying. “What do you suggest we do? As I see it, our only hope is to find Tristan and see if I can help him recover. If he were here, if the trolls could see him, then maybe…” It would still be another battle. Hundreds, maybe thousands of lives lost, with no certainty of victory. Was surrender the better option? Was it inevitable?
“We have one advantage,” Marc said. “For a few hours more, Angoulême believes you both are dead. His guard will be lowered.”
I threw up my hands in frustration. “So? It isn’t as though Tristan is capable of doing anything about it.”
“I’m not talking about Tristan,” Marc said. “I’m talking about you.”
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Cécile
We crouched in a copse of trees, twilight upon us. Melusina had delivered Marc, Sabine, and me to the location an hour ago, but we’d waited for the twins to join us before making our move. It had killed me to ask Martin pull them away from their search for Tristan, but Marc couldn’t handle Angoulême and Lessa on his own.