“Is that so?” His voice had the lyrical cadence of the court, although I was surprised to find a nobleman stooping to treasure hunting. I was in no position to judge, though. I’d take assistance where I could find it. I crawled on hands and knees, putting the man between Luc and me. Anyone had to be better than Luc.

My eyes fixed on the glowing lamp dancing behind his head. No, not a lamp – an orb that seemed to be floating through the air of its own accord. It swung round, hanging near my face, dazzling me with brightness but exuding only a little warmth.

“How badly are you injured, Mademoiselle de Troyes?”

I reached up to touch the light, then, thinking better of it, withdrew my hand. Only then did I realize he’d called me by name. I met his eyes. Or eye, rather. He stood peculiarly and kept his face turned to one side, revealing only his profile. He was perhaps my brother’s age, and particularly handsome. The light of the orb reflected in his silvery grey eye as though the glow came from within. I’d never met anyone in my life with eyes like his.

“I’m afraid you have the advantage, monsieur, for while you know my name, I don’t know yours.” My heart beat faster. Something was dreadfully amiss. Apprehension made my hackles rise like a dog’s as I eyed the man up and down. Who was he and what was he doing beneath the rubble of Forsaken Mountain?

“I should beg your pardon, mademoiselle, for failing to introduce myself. I am Marc de Biron, Comte de Courville.” His attention moved to Luc. “You were to bring her unharmed.”

“You’re lucky she’s still alive – we nearly got ate by that sluag,” Luc retorted.

“You’re lucky you didn’t bring half a dozen of them down upon you the way you two carried on. I wouldn’t be surprised if they could account your argument word for word in Trollus, you were so infernally loud!”

“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no.” Every instinct said to run, but which way? I had no light, and the sluag blocked the way we’d come from. But forward was where he’d come from and he was… Rising to my feet, I cowered against the wall. “You’re a… He’s a…”

“Aye, Cécile,” Luc said, finally taking notice of my yammering. “He’s a troll all right.”

“But you said they were monst…” The troll abruptly turned and faced me straight on, and the word died on my lips, replaced by a scream. Luc had been telling the truth.

Chapter 4

Cécile

The two sides of his face, so flawless on their own, were like halves of a fractured sculpture put back together askew. The lack of symmetry was more than unsettling – it was shocking, gruesome even. One eye higher than the other. One ear lower than the other. A mouth marred by a permanently sardonic twist. I leapt back and into Luc, who clamped a filthy hand over my lips, silencing the scream.