Stolen Songbird

CHAPTER 38

CéCILE

Burning light pierced through my eyelids, and I groaned, turning my face to the side. Rough homespun sheets rasped against my cheek, and the smell of smoke assaulted my nostrils. “Something’s burning.” My voice sounded slurred, even to my own ears.

“She’s awake.”

A familiar voice. “Gran?”

“It’s your gran, dear. You’re home safe now.” The mattress sunk beneath her weight as she sat next to me. “Do you remember what happened?”

My memories came crashing back: Tristan carrying me through the labyrinth, begging me to forgive him, and then doing the unforgivable. A sob tore from my throat.

“Joss, go warm up some of that broth for your sister.”

The door opened and shut.

“When Christophe and Jérôme brought you here, you were almost beyond my power to save. You’ve been unconscious nigh on three days now.”

Three days! My heart leapt. The King had been far from dead when we left him, and there was nowhere in Trollus safe from his wrath. My breath came in short little gasps. I couldn’t feel him. Tristan wasn’t there. My mind was empty.

“Cécile, calm down. You’re safe now.”

Gran’s words barely registered as I fumbled with the blankets, my eyes stinging and watering in the sunlight. Finally I got my hand free of the sheets, my gaze latching onto the silver lacework gleaming across my knuckles. “Thank God,” I whispered and collapsed back against the sheets. As my panic receded, I realized I could feel Tristan in my mind, just faintly. He was miserable though, and in pain.

“Cécile, where have you been? We searched everywhere for you; for weeks, months! We thought you were dead!” Gran said.

“I… I…” I didn’t know what to say. “Can you please close the drapes?”

She did as I asked and, in the dimmer light, I could see my grandmother had aged. Deep lines creased her face and her normally upright shoulders were slumped. “Christophe told me they found you on their front porch and brought you straight here,” she said softly. “But your dress was soaked through.” Her eyes met mine. “It hasn’t rained in more than a week. And you hadn’t any shoes, but your feet were clean.” A shudder ran through her and she turned away. I’d never seen her cry before.

“Luc took me,” I said softly. “He caught me on my way home from town.”

Gran spun around. “You’ve been in Trianon this whole time?”

“No,” I said. “He sold me.”

Her eyes widened. “But who…” Whirling around, she crossed my room and flung open the chest of drawers. Rifling around, she extracted something from a leather purse and examined it closely. Her breath hissed through her lips and a coin bounced against the floorboards. “Troll gold. I know it by the weight.”

“Yes.” I awkwardly pushed myself into a seated position, my ribs stiff and sore.

“They’re monsters.” Her voice trembled with fear.

“Some of them,” I agreed, swinging my legs around. “But most of them are rather charming.”

Gran stared at me in horror. “What did they want with you?”

The door swung open and Joss stuck her head in. “Girards are here.”

“You should go down and greet them,” I said. “I’ll dress and be down shortly.”

“You shouldn’t be up,” Gran said. “You need to rest.”

“I’ll be fine. Go ahead.”

I waited until they were down the steps and then pulled on one of my old dresses, my body stiff and uncooperative. There was a long scar running down my rib cage, pink and fresh. Magic had been used to heal me. My grandmother’s magic, if what the King had said was true. But I had no time to think about that now. Stepping quietly across the floor, I made my way down the hall and into my father’s room. I pushed open the window, climbed out onto the shed and jumped to the ground. My knees buckled and I tumbled into a heap, breathing hard. I didn’t have time for this. I needed to get back to Trollus now. Tristan was hurt because of me. I had to help him.

Sneaking around to the front of the house, I eased the reins of Chris’s horse loose from the post and swung into the saddle. The door opened and Chris looked out, his mouth dropping open when he saw me. “Cécile, no!”

“I have to,” I whispered. Wheeling the horse around, I slammed my heels against its side and galloped out of the yard.

I didn’t get far. By the time I reached the tree line, Chris had caught up to me on his father’s horse. Reaching down, he grabbed hold of my reins and pulled the two horses to a halt.

“Have you lost your mind?” he shouted.

I kicked the horse’s sides and tried to pull the reins free, but I was already exhausted from the short gallop, my injured side screaming from exertion. “I need to go back!” The words came out in a choked sob. “He’s hurt. I have to help him.”

“How?” Chris swung down from the saddle and pulled me off the horse. “What do you possibly think you can do? Ride back into Trollus and demand they let him go? He can’t leave, Cécile. He’s as stuck there as the rest of them.”

“You can’t expect me to do nothing!”

“That’s exactly what I expect you to do. That’s exactly what Tristan expects you to do.” He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. “If you go back, everything he did, everything he sacrificed to keep you alive will be for nothing. You can’t help him, Cécile, but you can ensure his sacrifice was worthwhile.”

“Of course you would say that,” I hissed. “You hate him. You’re jealous of him. Don’t pretend you’d shed a tear if you found out he was dead.”

Chris abruptly let go of me. “Is that what you think of me?”

I looked away, lowering myself on weak knees to the ground.

“You think I’d see someone dead because I was jealous?”

“Then prove me wrong.” My voice was barely audible. “Help me save him.”

“Letting you go back would be the exact opposite of helping him,” Chris replied, blankly watching the horses wander off to graze. “He made me promise to keep you safe, but even if he hadn’t, I still wouldn’t let you go. Hate me if you want to, but I’m not letting you throw your life away for a troll.”

“You shouldn’t even be able to speak his name.” I dug my fingers into the dirt. “You shouldn’t be able to talk about anything to do with Trollus.”

“He released me from those oaths. And he told me to give you this.” He dropped a folded letter onto my skirts, its golden embossed seal glittering under the sun. Tentatively, I picked it up and pulled it open, the sight of Tristan’s familiar script causing a pain in my stomach.

Cécile,

There is much I wish to say to you – so much, that if I had hours, even days, to write this letter, it would not be enough. All the words in this world and the next are not enough. But even as the ink on the page dries, you are dying. I have no more time than to tell you that I love you, and on the hope that you survive to read this, to warn you. You must never return to Trollus. Only death awaits you here…

My eyes skimmed the rest of the page, and then again, the page shaking between my fingers.

“He’s giving you the chance to start over, Cécile.” Chris knelt next to me and pushed the trembling page down into my lap. “You can have a life here, if that’s what you want. Here, in the Hollow.”

I knew what he was thinking, though the words remained unspoken. With dull eyes, I watched my family hurrying towards me. Chris was right: the right decision – the safe decision – would be to stay in the Hollow. To one day get married and have children and forget about Trollus. To forget about magic. To forget about Tristan.

You must never return to Trollus…

My eyes turned southward, towards the ocean and towards Trianon. Trollus might be forbidden to me, but there was no power on this earth that could make me forget. Or make me give up. I wasn’t powerless – far from it. I had witch magic in my blood strong enough to stop a troll, and that had to mean something. Who knew what I could accomplish with a little practice. And while I was learning, my hunt would begin. I wasn’t certain where I’d find her or what I’d do when I did, but there was one thing I knew for certain.

The witch must die.