Chris closed his hand over mine. It was warm, but not in the feverish way of the trolls. He turned my hand over and our fingers linked: his tanned and calloused from years of labor in the fields; mine, pale as marble and buffed smooth by my maids. “Cécile, you must leave this place. Already you’ve changed, faded.” His dark thumb brushed over my skin. “Trollus is killing you.”

White-hot fury lanced through my mind with a force that sent me reeling.

“Get your hands off of her,” said a voice behind me.

Chris raised my hand, kissed my knuckles gently and then got to his feet. Very brave, but also very stupid. Which he probably realized when a fist of magic hammered into his stomach, tossing him against the wagon. The mule brayed unhappily, pinning its ears against its head.

I was on my feet and between them in a flash. “Stop it!” I pressed my hands against Tristan’s chest, trying to keep some distance between the two. “He’s telling me news about my family.”

Tristan didn’t even look at me – his eyes remained fixed on Chris. “She doesn’t need to speak to the likes of you to have news about her family.”

“The likes of me?” I heard Chris come up behind me, and I turned, slamming a hand against his chest to keep him from coming any closer. “Let it go, Chris,” I warned, but he paid no more attention to me than Tristan had.

“The likes of me is the same as the likes of your wife,” Chris snapped. “I’ve known her all her life. I know her father and her grandmother. I’m friends with her brother. I’ve danced with her at festivals and walked her home from her lessons in town. We’re the same people.”

“She is nothing like you,” Tristan sneered, his tone making me flinch. It made him sound like his father. “She is my wife. She is Princess of Trollus, and you are not fit company for her.”

“She’s your prisoner.”

Tristan showed no visible reaction, but I felt Chris’s words strike him to the core.

I turned, pressing my back against Tristan and pulling his arm around me. “That isn’t true Chris. I told you – I’m here because I want to be.”

“That true, my lord? Does she have the choice to leave if she wanted to? Has she ever had the choice?”

Tristan was silent. I could hear his heart beating furiously where my head rested against his chest.

“Just as I thought.” Chris’s face was dark with anger. “You stole her from her kin and now she’s your prisoner. She might say she loves you, but I don’t believe it for a minute. You’ve either put some magic on her mind or she’s just saying it because it’s what you want to hear!”

“That isn’t true!” I shouted. “You shut your mouth, Christophe!” I looked up at Tristan. “It isn’t true. You know I love you.” He refused to meet my eyes, but his grip around my waist increased, drawing me tight against him.