Taking the steps three at a time, I shoved open the iron-bound oak door at the top and stepped out into the bitter cold of winter. From this height, all of Trianon was spread out before me, the walls marked in intervals with burning torches and the better parts of the city glowing faintly from the gaslights lining the streets. It was eerily quiet, but the tension seeping out from every household was palpable, even from my lofty perch. The humans were afraid, and as much as I hated to admit it, the Winter Queen had done me a favor in that. Fear could be a unifying force, and if I could harness it, so much the better.
Shifting my gaze in the direction of Trollus, I leaned my elbows against the stone parapet, only vaguely aware of those who’d followed. My father had told Cécile of his intention to take the Isle peaceably, and to a certain extent I believed him. To that end, I knew his target would be Trianon, because whoever held the capital and its leaders controlled the Isle. Right now, I held the city, and it had to stay that way.
A vision of what I needed formed in my mind, and I let magic drift out and away, shaping it with willpower and practice. The walls surrounding Trianon began to glow with silver light until they appeared more magic than stone. And then I made them higher. Up and up the wall of light climbed, curving inward until the city was encased in a massive dome of magic.
“Is that to keep your kind out or us in?”
I turned. Fred, the Regent, and one other man, whom I presumed was his advisor, stood with their faces turned to the sky. Lady Marie shivered beside them, lips drawn into a thin line as she waited for an answer to her question.
“Both,” I said, neglecting to add that my father and a handful of others had enough power to break through, should they feel inclined. The purpose was not to stop a frontal attack, but to keep anyone from sneaking up on me unawares. My father didn’t want a war – he wanted to pull strings until everything fell into place. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t resort to force if necessary. “It will buy us time to plan.”
“Us?” she snarled. “If your interests were so aligned with ours, why didn’t you let Anushka be? If she was still alive, none of this would be happening.”
And Cécile would be dead, with me along with her. And my people would remain at the mercy of my enemies. “The costs were too high.” I hesitated. “I’ve come to believe there’s a better way.”
“Is that what you told Cécile to convince her to help you kill her mother?”
It had been very much the other way around, but I was content to let her believe I was the instigator. The Regent was staring at his wife as though she were a stranger, confirming he’d had no idea that Marie was harboring the witch he’d been hunting on our behalf.
“Genevieve de Troyes was one of the many aliases Anushka used over the years,” I said.
“And you knew?” the Regent demanded of his wife. “You harbored her? Do you have any idea what they would have done to us if they’d discovered your betrayal?” It dawned on him then that one of them stood less than two paces away. “I didn’t know.”
“Clearly,” I said, wondering how well he was going to take the revelation of his son’s betrayal. “But no longer relevant. What matters now is the defense of Trianon.”
They stepped aside for me as I made my way back to the heavy door. Cécile was moving through the castle, her distress biting at my concentration. I wanted to talk to her, to find out what was going on in her head, but what I needed was to focus on discovering the plans of both my father and Angoulême. And Winter.
“What about those flying creatures? Will your dome keep them out?” Marie demanded, following me down the stairs.
Considering the fey could tear a path between worlds nearly anywhere they chose, I highly doubted it, but the question was good. She alone seemed to understand the urgency of the situation. “Only iron–” I broke off when a slice of fear lanced through me. Cécile.
“Iron?” she asked. “What of it?”
Where was she? Had my father’s minions reached us before I’d cut them off? Or Angoulême’s?
“Marie, be silent,” the Regent hissed. “He isn’t interested in listening to the questions of a woman.”
Pain.
I bolted down the last few stairs and across the room, passing Aiden-Fred as I ran. Only as my hands slammed against the door did it occur to me that his presence didn’t make sense. Fred had been up in the tower with us. Had been silently shadowing the Regent on the stairs. Which meant the man who’d just passed me wasn’t Cécile’s brother.
Marie screamed, and I turned around in time to see Aiden du Chastelier plunge the point of a sword through his father’s heart.
Chapter Three
Cécile
My first instinct was to dive out into the corridor, but sensing my intentions, Julian’s finger tightened on the trigger and I froze. No amount of luck would allow me to dodge a bullet at this range: I was no troll.
“Julian, don’t.” I forced as much power as I could into the command, but he only sneered and flicked the sprig of rowan pinned to his collar, the expression grotesque on his tear-stained face.
“Do you think I’d leave myself vulnerable to your tricks?”
I swallowed the bile rising from my stomach. “I’m sorry, Julian. If you knew the truth then you’d understand that I–”