Hidden Huntress
Page 117

The Prince climbed to his feet. “He walked behind, so I did not see it happen.” The knife he’d had in his hand was gone, and I wondered where he had hidden it. Not that he needed it.
“As though that makes all the difference.” Angoulême waved a hand at his guardsmen. “Clean this mess up. And you–” He turned around and pointed a finger at me.
I froze. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“Pick that up and bring it.”
My eyes flicked to the box lying in the middle of all that gore. The last thing I wanted to do was pick it up and carry it into the heart of the lion’s den.
“Do it!” Angoulême was visibly upset, and I did not care to think what would happen if I disobeyed. Running forward, I picked my way through the mess of flesh and bone and reached for the box. As I was bending down, I saw Roland’s knife hidden in a fold of fabric, and before I could even think about what I was doing, I hid it in my skirts. Taking hold of the box, I heaved it up, afraid for a moment that I wouldn’t be able to lift it and would give myself away. But I managed to get it up, my fingers slick with troll blood and worse. Heart in my throat, I followed the two toward the Duke’s home, which I knew lay not far up the street.
The walls surrounding the house were higher than was typical in Trollus – as high as those around the palace, and just as well guarded. Armed full-blooded troll men and women watched the street, their expressions those who expect an attack at any minute. Two of them opened the gates for us, but none paid any attention to me.
“Where would you have me put this, Your Grace?” I altered my voice to keep it low, but I could not keep the shake from it.
“In here.” Angoulême flung open the doors to a large room, and ignoring my aching arms, I carried the box over to a table. “Open it, and let us see if the damage warranted such behavior.”
I did as he asked, flinching when he reached over my shoulder to pluck up one of the little figurines.
“It’s gold!” He turned and threw the glittering figure at the wall with such force that it smashed through the plaster. Something crashed in the neighboring room, and I heard an exclamation of disgust. Seconds later, the Dowager Duchesse entered, and my heart sank.
Angoulême rounded on Roland. “Do you have any idea how much that half-blood was worth?”
Shoving me out of the way, Roland went to the box and began pulling out the little figures. “Oh, they are gold!”
“Roland.”
My hands and feet felt like ice, but sweat dribbled down my back. I would rather have lain naked in a pit of vipers than spend another second in this room. But I could not leave without being dismissed, and none of the three were paying me any mind.
The boy shrugged. “Well, given the fight he put up, I suppose he must have been expensive.” What they were having for dinner probably would have interested him more than the man he’d just murdered in cold blood.
“How many times do I have to explain to you…” Angoulême broke off, his eyes flicking to me. “You are dismissed.”
I dropped into curtsies for all three of them, then backed out of the room, keeping my face low. Closing the door behind me, I started toward the front entrance, but then I stopped. If they were about to have a row, wasn’t it better that I listen in on it? They had unwittingly invited their enemy into their midst, and wouldn’t I be a fool not to take advantage of that?
You’d be a fool to stay, I all but heard Tristan whisper in my ear, but I ignored him. Spying a doorway to an antechamber, I quietly went inside. Pressing my ear to the wall, I listened.
“I enjoy doing it. There is no other reason,” Roland snapped, and I could imagine his arms crossed, lovely blood-smeared face petulant.
“You cannot keep killing out of hand, Your Highness. Your father might still reinstate Tristan as heir, and you would not care for that to happen, would you?”
The house trembled. “He will not! I will be king!”
“No one wants that more than I, Your Highness.” Angoulême’s voice was soothing. “But well you know that we must play this tedious game of politics if we are to succeed. Your brother is a sly creature, and he has turned the people’s minds against us.”
“You were supposed to have him killed.”
“And I will.” Glass clinked against glass, and I envisioned the Duke pouring himself a drink to calm his irritation. “As much as I despise your brother, he is a Montigny. Felling him is no easy thing, and his human seems to have nine lives’ worth of luck.”
“I want him to come back.”
“That is the last thing you should want, Highness.”
“I want him to be as he was before her.”
I was fairly certain her was me, and if Roland blamed me for his brother’s changed behavior, that would explain the intensity of his dislike.
“You know he was only pretending to be that way before,” Angoulême said. “He deceived everyone.”
Roland did not reply, and I wished desperately that I could see his face. There was something about his tone of voice when he spoke about wanting Tristan’s return, something that made me think he actually cared for him in some fashion. It made me realize that I knew very little about the relationship, such as it was, between the two brothers. It made me wonder if there was something worth salvaging in that monster of a boy after all.
“Anaïs is upstairs,” Angoulême finally said. “Why don’t you bring the game to her? I’m sure it would please her greatly to play with you.”