I turned and gave her black glare.
“Maybe they’re in your other coat,” she whispered.
Taking a deep breath, I said, “I need them.”
And it was the truth. It was taking every ounce of willpower I had not to react to Cécile’s terror. It’s not real, I told myself. It’s all part of Winter’s plan.
But what if it was real? What if Cécile needed me and this plan was a mistake? The back of the chair cracked and splintered beneath my grip, and I shoved it aside.
Moving with speed no human possessed, I was around the table, catching hold of Joss’s sleeve and dragging her close. “Your sister is in danger, but if I leave…” I stared intently at her, as though she possessed the solution to my dilemma.
She cracked. “Please help my sister, Tristan. Please don’t let anything happen to her.”
It was either the finest bit of acting she’d managed, or she was genuinely afraid for Cécile’s wellbeing. Suspecting the latter, I bit the inside of my cheeks. Something wasn’t right, but I didn’t dare stop now.
“I need those seeds,” I said. “Who took them?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, and I knew this wasn’t going as she had planned. She’d expected me to go running straight out the castle gates and into Winter’s clutches, and now she didn’t know what to do.
“Sabine,” I hissed. “She was against me using the magic, and she’s had the opportunity. She took them from me.”
Josette blanched. “Surely not. She wouldn’t steal from you. Sabine is loyal.”
“Don’t protect her.” I shoved past, moving out into the corridor, doors exploding open as I passed. “Do you know what I do to thieves?”
Her eyes were bright with panic as she clutched at my arm, her fear for the innocent Sabine warring with her desire to trick me, and with her terror of just what I’d do if she admitted to having thrown them in the flames. “You need to help Cécile,” she pleaded, but I shrugged her off.
Catching hold of one of the half-bloods hurrying down the hall, I jerked him close. “Where is Sabine?”
“The gatehouse, Your Highness,” he replied. “With Lord Marc.”
Joss took off running, and I strode after her, winding my way through the corridors and out into the open air.
“Sabine,” Josette screamed. “Run. You need to run.”
Cécile’s blonde friend twisted around, her eyes widening at the sight of us. Then Marc stepped in the line of fire. “Stones and sky, Tristan, what’s going on?”
“My seeds,” I shouted, and then I leveled a finger at her. “Where. Are. They?”
Sabine took a step back. Then another.
“Tristan, she hasn’t done anything wrong,” Marc said, throwing up a shield to block my path. I shattered it with a single blow and demanded, “Where are they?”
“They were a mistake, Tristan,” Sabine shouted, her voice echoing through the air. “Even if I had them, you don’t need them.”
“Give them back!”
Marc raised another shield and stepped between us. “Sabine, run!”
She didn’t hesitate, swinging up onto the back of Cécile’s horse and laying the ends of her reins to the mare’s haunches. In a matter of seconds, she was across the bridge and into the city.
Marc backed up until he stood just outside the iron barrier. “Tristan, you can’t step outside the walls.”
“Then bring her back! The seeds are mine.”
Marc took a deep breath. “You don’t need them.”
But I did need them. Cécile… “You know what the punishment is for a human who steals from a troll,” I snarled. “Death.”
I smashed through his shield and knocked him out of the way. I hesitated only for a second before stepping across the circle protecting me, and then I broke into a run.
With every stride, I was sure the world would tear open and Winter would step out, stopping me in my tracks. That this plan was folly and would never work, but I saw no sign of her or any of her minions.
But of a surety, they were watching.
I chased the sound of the hooves through Trianon, gaining ground by cutting across yards and going over walls. But Sabine was riding at reckless speed, and I didn’t catch sight of her until she was galloping up the street toward Bouchard’s residence, bent low over the horse’s back, hair whipping out behind her. “Give them back, Sabine!” I howled, and tore her off the back of the horse.
I let her dangle in the air for an instant, then dropped her in a pile of snow next to the open gate to the property.
Watching her scramble back, I slowly stalked forward. “Give them to me.”
“Please, Tristan, please,” she sobbed. “I don’t have them.”
“The law is the law,” I said, then the air charged with magic and she collapsed in the snow, unmoving.
I dug into her pockets, discretely pulling out the seeds, relief filling me at the sight of them even as I pantomimed the frustration of one thwarted. But before I could do anything more the world tore, and Winter stepped out.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tristan