But conflicted or not, Roland didn’t hesitate to attack. Our powers collided with thunderclaps that shook the earth, explosions of heat melting snow for miles around. His strategy was nearly as mindless as my mother’s had been, but as with her, his total disregard for his own safety or the destruction he was causing allowed him to channel more power into his offensive.
Not that it should matter: he was eight. A child. A decade from realizing the potential of his power.
He struck again, and my magic shuddered violently. Again, and my heel slipped. Again, and I had to take a step backward or risk falling.
A wicked little smile blossomed on his face, and fear twisted up my spine like a snake. Contrary to popular opinion, I was not the most powerful troll living.
Not even close.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Cécile
Fallen straight into Angoulême’s trap, and there was nothing we could do about it. This battle would be over in a matter of moments, and we were hours away. Tristan was on his own. Marc, Sabine, and all our friends in Trianon were on their own. There was nothing I could do to help.
“What are our options?” I asked, staring down at my boots. Melted snow was pooling around them, seeping in to chill my toes, but I couldn’t be bothered to move.
“If I travel light, I might be able to make it in time to do some good,” Victoria said.
I knew what travel light meant – without me. “Go,” I said. “Take Vincent. Run.”
“Cécile…”
“It’s not a request,” I snapped. “It’s a command. Go. Now.”
In a heartbeat, they were gone, leaving me alone with Chris and my grandmother.
“We always knew it would come down to a battle between trolls,” Chris said, taking my hand. “We’ve done what we can. Now we wait to see who wins.”
But his words were clipped, the muscles in his jaw standing out against his skin. Passiveness sat about as well with him as it did with me.
And it sat not at all well with my gran. “Enough of this defeatism,” she snapped. “Those are human beings surrounding Trianon and some of them are hurt. Which we can do something about. Pack your bag, Cécile. Chris, you saddle those horses, and be quick about it.”
We both gaped at her, but when she picked up a stick in a way that made it appear alarming like a switch, we scuttled in opposite directions to do her bidding.
“Where is Martin?” I asked, shoving my things into my satchel.
“Left while you two were whinging,” Gran replied, carefully packing the lobelia she’d gathered. “Said he was going to help.”
I didn’t know what he thought he could accomplish, but I said nothing. If he’d stayed, I could well imagine myself frozen in place, watching through a tiny portal while Tristan was slaughtered by his brother. Which did no good for anyone.
I stood and Gran moved with me, catching the front of my shirt and pulling me close. “No matter what happens to that boy, don’t you think about lying down to die, do you hear me?”
It was too easy to remember what it had felt like; the moment the sluag venom had pulled him away from me and all my will to live had vanished in an instant. How the cold press of the guillotine had felt like mercy.
“Do you hear me?” She jerked me closer with surprising strength for her frail frame. “It’s not just your life anymore.”
She was right. Tristan not surviving this encounter did not excuse me from the fight. I had a responsibility and a duty to keep going until the bitter end, and my ability to do so wouldn’t come from a spell or potion, but from force of will. “I hear you,” I said, lifting my chin. “Now let’s ride.”
But as we turned to the horses, a shriek filled the skies over our heads. A sound like an eagle, but far, far bigger. The horses went wild, tearing free from their pickets and galloping into the trees. The moment I looked up, I wanted to do the same, because cutting across the sky was a dragon.
“I thought Tristan said they couldn’t come back,” Chris shouted as we ran to the trees.
“He did.” Gran stumbled, and I hauled her up, risking a glance back as I did. The dragon had landed in the clearing, golden scales glittering in the sunlight. And I recognized it.
“Winter,” I breathed. “The Winter fey can’t come back.”
Letting go of her arm, I retreated to the clearing.
“Are you mad?” Chris dragged me backwards.
“Let me go,” I said, and his arms fell away.
My pulse roared in my ears as I approached the dragon, my eyes flitting between its enormous claws and teeth the length of my hand. It snorted, and a gout of steam rose into the air. “Are you Melusina?” I asked, flinching as it lowered its massive head until it was only a few feet from my chest. Emerald eyes gleamed and it huffed out another breath that smelled of sulfur and flame.
“Cécile!” Chris hissed my name from behind a tree as though the slender trunk would protect him from the enormous beast.
“There’s a statue of it… of her in Trollus,” I said. “She’s a Summer dragon.” I reached out a hand and, though it was probably not prudent to do so, pressed it against the creature’s hide. Her scales were hard as steel, but through them, I felt the same sort of preternatural heat the trolls exuded. “Are you here to help us?”