Hidden Huntress
Page 106
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“We didn’t kill her,” I said, not bothering to hide my disgust. “When we arrived, her shop was in flames. Tristan got her out, but it was too late.”
Fred’s shoulders slumped with obvious relief. “Thank God,” he muttered.
Hurt sliced through me. “You didn’t honestly believe I’d murdered a woman in cold blood?”
“Some people will do just about anything for the sake of revenge,” he replied, staring at the ground. “And I’m not even going to guess at what he’s capable of.” Fred lifted his head to glare at Tristan.
“If I was so quick to kill, let me assure you, His Lordship” – Tristan coated the word with mockery – “would have been the first to go.”
“Then by all means, get it over with,” Aiden snapped. “Quit this pretense at being human, troll, and show your true colors.”
Tristan’s disguise melted away, and in two strides he was in Aiden’s face. “I gave you a chance to do a small good – to help Cécile – but instead you thought only of yourself and pursued a plan as evil as any of my father’s. If you had saved her, I would have done what I could to help you, and our future might look very different. But now all you are is my enemy, and you will come to regret that fact.”
Fred shifted, and I turned to give him a warning look only to find his brow furrowed and his gaze fixed on Aiden. The Regent’s son had not, I suspected, told him the whole of the truth, and my brother would not take well to having been manipulated.
“The only regret I have is that my plan failed, because I lost my chance to see a future unencumbered by your father and the rest of your wretched race of creatures,” Aiden snarled. “I swear that I’ll never stop until I find a way to see every last one of you on your knees, starving, dying, and begging for the mercy of humanity. But let me assure you, troll, I will show you none.”
Tristan’s temper snapped, and in a motion almost too fast to see, he lifted Aiden off his feet by the throat and slammed him into the wall. Fred swore and tried to reach for his pistol, but the effects of my compulsion remained and he settled for his sword. I opened my mouth to stop him, but before I could speak, the blade tore from his grip, spinning in a silver blur across the theatre to embed itself in the box across from us. Fred lunged toward the two, but magic caught him, pinning him to the ground.
I stood still, and though everything had happened within seconds, time seemed to slow as I watched Aiden’s face darken, the dagger he’d managed to pull from his belt banging ineffectually against magic, his free hand clawing against Tristan’s fingers. A cruel and vengeful part of my soul wanted to stand back and let him die. This man who was servant to the King I despised. Who had kidnapped me and tried to use me against those I loved. Who had threatened to kill an entire race of people because of the hatred he had for one troll. What mercy did he deserve?
But what sort of person was I if I did not give it? Even through his fury, I could feel Tristan’s hesitation. I knew how strong he was – that he could’ve snapped Aiden’s neck with one hand or worse. Yet instead he let death creep slowly toward the other man, not because he was cruel, but because he wasn’t a killer. That he was merciful by nature was what made him different from his father, from Angoulême, from Roland; and for us to have any hope of making a future worth living, he needed to remain that way.
“Tristan, he’s baiting you. Let him go.” I moved forward, forcing my mind to calm and our mutual anger to temper. “If you kill him, everything will come out. It’s what he wants.”
Tristan’s grip lessened, and with a hiss of disgust, he dropped Aiden to the ground. Casting a black look at Fred, he released him, then went to the balcony to look over the edge.
I knelt down next to the man who was destined to one day rule the Isle, watching as he wheezed and choked, hand pressed against his bruised throat. “You believe yourself better because you are human,” I said. “But you are not. You are weak, selfish, and your word means nothing. You are not fit to rule a privy. Get out of my sight, or I’ll spell you with an itch upon your privates that will have you squirming for the rest of your days.”
Not waiting to see if he listened, I poured two glasses of wine and forced one into Tristan’s hand as the door open and closed, both of them departed. “Pull yourself together,” I said. “Bouchard and his nephews will be upon us in moments.”
He nodded, eyes reverting to grey as they fixed on the people flooding back into their seats below. “They’ll never be safe while caged by the curse,” he said softly. “They are in danger from within and without, and what can I do to help them? How can I protect them?”
There was only one answer, but I bit my lip and said nothing until I heard the other men come back into the box.
“Is all well?” Bouchard asked, his brow furrowed.
“Everything is splendid,” I replied. “I believe the second half is about to begin.”
“I didn’t realize you were acquainted with Lord Aiden du Chastelier,” he said once Tristan had turned around.
Tristan didn’t answer, so I kicked him in the ankle.
“We’ve met in passing,” he eventually said. “He knows my father.”
I could see another question forming on Bouchard’s tongue, but now was not the time for inquisitiveness. “The curtain’s rising,” I said swiftly. “Best we take our seats.”
Fred’s shoulders slumped with obvious relief. “Thank God,” he muttered.
Hurt sliced through me. “You didn’t honestly believe I’d murdered a woman in cold blood?”
“Some people will do just about anything for the sake of revenge,” he replied, staring at the ground. “And I’m not even going to guess at what he’s capable of.” Fred lifted his head to glare at Tristan.
“If I was so quick to kill, let me assure you, His Lordship” – Tristan coated the word with mockery – “would have been the first to go.”
“Then by all means, get it over with,” Aiden snapped. “Quit this pretense at being human, troll, and show your true colors.”
Tristan’s disguise melted away, and in two strides he was in Aiden’s face. “I gave you a chance to do a small good – to help Cécile – but instead you thought only of yourself and pursued a plan as evil as any of my father’s. If you had saved her, I would have done what I could to help you, and our future might look very different. But now all you are is my enemy, and you will come to regret that fact.”
Fred shifted, and I turned to give him a warning look only to find his brow furrowed and his gaze fixed on Aiden. The Regent’s son had not, I suspected, told him the whole of the truth, and my brother would not take well to having been manipulated.
“The only regret I have is that my plan failed, because I lost my chance to see a future unencumbered by your father and the rest of your wretched race of creatures,” Aiden snarled. “I swear that I’ll never stop until I find a way to see every last one of you on your knees, starving, dying, and begging for the mercy of humanity. But let me assure you, troll, I will show you none.”
Tristan’s temper snapped, and in a motion almost too fast to see, he lifted Aiden off his feet by the throat and slammed him into the wall. Fred swore and tried to reach for his pistol, but the effects of my compulsion remained and he settled for his sword. I opened my mouth to stop him, but before I could speak, the blade tore from his grip, spinning in a silver blur across the theatre to embed itself in the box across from us. Fred lunged toward the two, but magic caught him, pinning him to the ground.
I stood still, and though everything had happened within seconds, time seemed to slow as I watched Aiden’s face darken, the dagger he’d managed to pull from his belt banging ineffectually against magic, his free hand clawing against Tristan’s fingers. A cruel and vengeful part of my soul wanted to stand back and let him die. This man who was servant to the King I despised. Who had kidnapped me and tried to use me against those I loved. Who had threatened to kill an entire race of people because of the hatred he had for one troll. What mercy did he deserve?
But what sort of person was I if I did not give it? Even through his fury, I could feel Tristan’s hesitation. I knew how strong he was – that he could’ve snapped Aiden’s neck with one hand or worse. Yet instead he let death creep slowly toward the other man, not because he was cruel, but because he wasn’t a killer. That he was merciful by nature was what made him different from his father, from Angoulême, from Roland; and for us to have any hope of making a future worth living, he needed to remain that way.
“Tristan, he’s baiting you. Let him go.” I moved forward, forcing my mind to calm and our mutual anger to temper. “If you kill him, everything will come out. It’s what he wants.”
Tristan’s grip lessened, and with a hiss of disgust, he dropped Aiden to the ground. Casting a black look at Fred, he released him, then went to the balcony to look over the edge.
I knelt down next to the man who was destined to one day rule the Isle, watching as he wheezed and choked, hand pressed against his bruised throat. “You believe yourself better because you are human,” I said. “But you are not. You are weak, selfish, and your word means nothing. You are not fit to rule a privy. Get out of my sight, or I’ll spell you with an itch upon your privates that will have you squirming for the rest of your days.”
Not waiting to see if he listened, I poured two glasses of wine and forced one into Tristan’s hand as the door open and closed, both of them departed. “Pull yourself together,” I said. “Bouchard and his nephews will be upon us in moments.”
He nodded, eyes reverting to grey as they fixed on the people flooding back into their seats below. “They’ll never be safe while caged by the curse,” he said softly. “They are in danger from within and without, and what can I do to help them? How can I protect them?”
There was only one answer, but I bit my lip and said nothing until I heard the other men come back into the box.
“Is all well?” Bouchard asked, his brow furrowed.
“Everything is splendid,” I replied. “I believe the second half is about to begin.”
“I didn’t realize you were acquainted with Lord Aiden du Chastelier,” he said once Tristan had turned around.
Tristan didn’t answer, so I kicked him in the ankle.
“We’ve met in passing,” he eventually said. “He knows my father.”
I could see another question forming on Bouchard’s tongue, but now was not the time for inquisitiveness. “The curtain’s rising,” I said swiftly. “Best we take our seats.”
