It took us the rest of the day and into the evening to reach camp, a set of cabins on the edge of Moraine Lake that hunters used and maintained. They sat in the midst of at least two dozen tents, and though it was too dark for me to see the faces of those moving between them, I recognized most of the voices.
“That’s Joss’s horse,” Chris said, helping me off the back of his animal. “So you can quit fretting.”
“I somehow doubt that.”
He shrugged. “This way.”
As I followed Chris toward one of the cabins, Marc and the twins fell into step next to me, and the world fell silent as we were enveloped in magic.
“What do you intend to tell them?” Marc asked.
“The truth.”
I could all but feel the silent conversation taking place over my head. “These are my people,” I snapped. “They deserve to know.”
“Perhaps they do,” Marc replied. “But will they understand what you tell them? Will knowing the truth about why Tristan remains in Trianon help or hinder them? Will it help or hinder us?”
I chewed the inside of my cheeks, considering how I might explain to people who knew little or nothing about trolls why Tristan remained hidden while the people of the Isle suffered at his brother’s hand. How to explain the weight of a promise. The value of a name. It would sound like nonsense in their ears, a ridiculous excuse.
“We need them,” Marc said, slowing his pace to buy us more time to talk. “We cannot hope to win this war without the support of the humans, but to have that, we need to give them a reason to fight for us. You need to give them that reason.”
“I’m not a leader, Marc,” I said, my skin prickling as I counted down the steps to the doorway of the cabin. “And even if I was, I’m the one who unleashed Roland. What could I possibly say that would make up for that?”
“You made that choice based on the belief that we would prevail over our enemies. That we could build a world where your kind and mine lived in harmony.” He caught hold of my arm, pulling me around to face him. “Did you think that it would happen easily?”
I mutely shook my head.
“You’re a princess, Cécile. The future Queen. Start acting like it.”
The crackling of the fires and the whistle of the wind through the mountains filled my ears once more.
“You coming in, or we having this meeting out in the cold?” Chris stood in the entrance to the cabin, beyond him those men and women who were respected in our community, Jér?me, my gran, and my father included.
“Give me a minute alone with them,” I said to Marc and the twins, and then I stepped through the door.
There were ten people crammed inside the small building, the fire at the center of the lone room more for light than heat, the press of human flesh enough to put beads of sweat on the brows of all present.
“How much do they know?” I asked under my breath.
“As much as I do. I’ve explained about Roland, Angoulême, and the King – they understand the factions,” he said. “And this building is ringed with steel, so you don’t need to worry about anyone listening in.”
I lifted one eyebrow.
“Tristan prepared me as best he could in the time he had. How to protect ourselves, and how to fight.” Chris jerked his chin at the group. “They know that much, too.”
I licked my lips, tasting sweat. Tristan had laid the groundwork for building an army, and this was the moment when I’d either build upon that foundation or burn it to the ground. I coughed to clear my throat, then my father stepped in front of me.
“Cécile, is it true what your sister says you’ve done?” he asked, and the anguish in his voice was like a knife to my heart.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Of course Joss had told them. How could I possibly have expected otherwise? My eyes raced around the room, taking in the crossed arms and mouths fixed in unbending lines.
“Did you kill your mother?”
Be a queen.
I lifted my chin. “No. I killed her murderer. I killed the witch who’d stolen my mother’s body and used it as her own. I killed the woman who intended to do the exact same thing to me.”
“You slaughtered the only thing that stood between us and these monsters,” Sabine’s father said. “And where is my girl? Is she well?”
“Sabine is in Trianon,” I said. “She’s staying in the Regent’s castle, and is under the protection of my husband. There is no safer place.”
A flurry of whispers filled the room, and I held my hand up to silence them. “Among trolls, as among humans, there are villains. Individuals who are corrupt, selfish, and cruel. The Duke d’Angoulême is one such troll. He controls my husband’s younger brother, Prince Roland, who is a child graced with incredible power, but also afflicted with violent madness. While it is the Prince who has been delivering wrath and ruin upon the Isle these past days, it is the Duke who is the mind behind the violence, his every move intended to bring him one step closer to his goal: taking the crown. We came to Colombey today to kill Roland.”
“And yet he’s still alive,” Sabine’s father snapped.