“We discussed that,” she said, pushing away my arm and climbing to her feet. “If I were to attempt this on a human, it would kill them as surely as a knife to the heart. We believe it would do much the same to most half-bloods, if not all.” Her arms crossed, she swiftly explained the premise of the spell. “I will very nearly have to kill him to cure him.”
“You might, in fact, kill him,” I said. “We’ll have gained nothing and lost another member of our force.”
“And what would you have gained killing him on that mountain top?”
Chris whistled through his teeth. “I’ll leave you two to this little chat.” He rose and swiftly left the fire’s circle of light. I waited until he was gone before saying, “That would’ve been mercy, Cécile. You weren’t there. You didn’t see him bleeding on the ground, his limbs scattered about him like chopped wood.”
Her intake of breath was sharp, and she closed her eyes for a moment. “He doesn’t need mercy, Tristan, he needs a victory. He couldn’t help élise, he couldn’t stop Angoulême, and now what? Do we strap him to a horse and send him galloping into battle where in all likelihood he won’t make a damn lick of difference? This could be something. It could be the solution.”
“To what?” I demanded. “To my moral dilemma over killing my brother?”
“No,” she shouted. “To our mistake!”
I froze, not entirely believing what I was hearing.
“I was wrong,” she said. “You were right about not breaking the curse and a fool for letting me convince you otherwise. Maybe we might make it work for our lifetime if we rule with an iron fist, but what then? There will always be more Angoulêmes, and God help us, more Rolands, and what will happen with us not there to stop them? So many have already died because of the choices we made, and this might be the chance to make things as right as they can be. To save both your kind and mine.”
She scrubbed a hand across her face, leaving a smear of blood and grime. “Your kind doesn’t belong here, and with God as my witness, I’ll send every troll back. And if it’s what you want, I’ll send you along with them.” Then she turned on her heel and stormed into the darkened woods.
My boots seemed fixed to the ground as I watched her retreating form. Of all the things I’d expected to hear her say, that wasn’t one of them. Always, always, she was the optimist, and to hear her give up on our dream, to say that our fight was hopeless… It made it true.
Your kind doesn’t belong here.
If she was right, if the spell worked, then what she was offering was a solution beyond what I could ever have hoped for. Not only a way to save both our kinds and keep blood off our hands, but for me, it was a chance to see my people thrive. They’d be immortal once more, no longer afflicted with iron-wrought maladies, or fearful of what the cursed metal would do to their children.
Your kind.
It would be a freedom so much greater than just release from Trollus. The lands of endless summer would be theirs again, along with countless other worlds and endless years to explore them. It would be the greatest gift I could give them – the ability to return home.
You.
You don’t belong here.
The cold seemed to bite through my clothing, the wind blowing through the trees a mournful howl. On numb feet, I slowly followed her tracks into the woods.
I found her sitting on a dry patch beneath a fir tree, face buried in her knees, shoulders shaking. “If it’s what Martin wants, do it,” I said, swallowing the tightness in my throat. “And if it works, I’ll do what I can to see every other full-blooded troll goes with him.”
“Every?” Her voice was soft.
“I think most will clamor for the opportunity.”
“Will you?”
I thought of her sharp words, the guilt and the blame. What I had done and left undone, and all the blood on my hands. Our hands. I knew she would forgive me for my failures, because that was her way. But would she ever forgive herself? If I stayed, would I not always be a constant reminder of how she’d forsaken her own kind, however temporarily, for me? Would it be better if I left? Would it help her forget?
“This is all speculation,” I said. “Neither of us know if your spell will work.”
It was the worst of silences, but I felt too cowardly to ask if her heart had veered so far in the opposite direction that she now wanted me gone with all the rest of my kind. And I feared her silence was reluctance to ask it of me.
“Do you have everything you need for your spell to do it tonight?” I asked, needing the moment to end. “One way or another, I need to leave at first light.”
“Gran was gathering what we needed,” she said, getting to her feet and wiping her face with a sleeve. “She should be done by now.”
Cécile started back to camp, and I knew I needed to say it now. “Cécile–”
She stopped in her tracks.
“Given the choice between one lifetime spent with you or a thousand without, I will always choose you.” I took a deep breath. “That is, if you still want me.”
She didn’t turn, kept her back to me and didn’t answer. But this was what made the bond between us worth every risk – she didn’t need to say anything at all. Slowly, she stretched her arm back, palm open, and I took it.
Chapter Forty-Six
Cécile