“He’s protecting Trianon,” I said. “That’s why we’re here – he sent us to put a stop to Roland.”
Chris’s gaze shot back to me, his brow furrowing. “And judging from your tone, we muddied up your plans.”
I crossed my arms. “You’re supposed to be helping people to safety.”
“That’s already done,” he replied. “Your gran personally set to dragging everyone out of their homes and into the mountains, but…” He nodded at the four who’d overcome their fear of Marc and the twins and finally approached. “There’s plenty who’d rather fight than hide, and I’m one of them.”
I bristled at the implied accusation, but before I could respond, Marc asked, “How many have you killed?”
“Six.” Chris jerked his chin at the body in the pit. “If that scream was his friend, it will be seven. Cocky bastards are easy to separate, and they’ve not yet figured out our game.”
“That won’t last.” Magic pried one of the stakes out the ground, and Marc examined it thoughtfully as it floated in front of him. “All it takes is one getting out of a trap alive, or another coming along before you’ve reset it.”
The air filled with the thud of hooves, and a cloaked rider came through the trees, horse blowing hard in the frosty air. “We caught him! Worked like a charm.”
“Josette?” Her name came out of my mouth more as an accusation than a greeting, and my sister pulled her horse up hard. “Cécile? What happened to your hair?”
“Stones and sky! You’re supposed to be hiding in the mountains, not… not…” Lost for words, I gestured at the scene around us.
“I’m not hiding while some child-monster destroys my home,” she snapped. “I’ll leave that to his older brother.”
My jaw dropped and Chris stepped between us. “Good riding, Joss. Now get rid of the body and pull up the stakes. We’ll need them for the next trap we set.”
My sister winced. “There’s a problem with that.”
Chris frowned. “How so?”
She cast a sideways glance at Marc and the twins. “There’s some concern about getting too close to it.”
“Why?” Chris demanded. “You aren’t getting squeamish on me now, are you?”
“Hardly.” She sat up a bit straighter in the saddle. “But neither have I got stupid. No way I’m getting too close while the damn thing’s still alive.”
Chapter Nineteen
Cécile
“Albert, Albert, Albert,” Marc said, stopping at the edge of the pit. “And here I believed your loyalty was to His Majesty. When did you turn traitor?”
I crept up next to him, leaning over the edge to see the troll who had once chased me through the streets of Trollus and been shamed by Tristan for it. He hung suspended on one side, spikes skewering both legs, his torso, and one arm. Though nothing vital appeared hit, the blood pooling beneath him told me it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to his injuries.
He spat a bloodstained glob. “Should’ve guessed it would be you three idiots helping the humans.”
“Says the one who met his end by falling into a hole,” Victoria said. She and Vincent had flanked the other side of the pit in case the captive tried anything creative. “Did the humans dangle a pastry as bait over their trap, or were you just too stupid to watch where you were going?”
He swore at her, but she only kicked snow in his face.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Marc said.
Albert laughed, then ground his teeth together against the pain. “Months. Since Thibault showed his true colors and wed his human-lover of a son to that red-haired whore. Weaklings like that don’t belong on the throne. Guillaume and I both recognized that it was time to switch sides.”
I frowned, realizing that he didn’t recognize me through my disguise.
“I knew it,” he gasped out. “Knew it the moment Tristan stopped me from killing him,” his eyes went to Chris, “And then humiliated me for the sake of that stupid girl: the Duke was right about him being a sympathizer. Worse than a sympathizer, he was willingly bedding that nasty little creature. Was in love with it. And Thibault knew. Put up with Tristan’s proclivities and forgave his treason. That says something.” He coughed. “That means something.”
Marc didn’t react. “Where is the Duke?”
Albert grinned. “Somewhere you’ll never find him.”
“He doesn’t know,” Vincent said. “Angoulême wouldn’t trust his plans to a turncoat commoner. Those human recruits bending knee to Roland probably know as much.”