“We have no such magic.” His sword slithered as he pulled it out of its scabbard. “I could have your head for this, boy. Or perhaps cut you open and leave you on the street to die, slowly. I could kill your father for bringing such an insolent brat into my presence.” His grip on my side was becoming painful, his fingers grinding the bones of my corset against my ribs.

I closed my eyes, fear building in my gut. This wasn’t Tristan I was hearing. It was his father’s voice, and the voices of all those horrible selfish kings before him. The voice of a troll.

“No,” I whispered. “Please, don’t.”

“Aye, you could,” Chris said, and I saw the first traces of fear on his face. Then he looked at me, “Seems to me he’s just like all the rest of them, Cécile.”

“You have no right to use her name,” Tristan snapped, and I gasped against the pain in my side.

“You’re hurting her!” Chris shouted.

Everything happened too quickly. Chris swung his fist at Tristan’s face, but it bounced off a shield of magic. Tristan pushed me out of the way, and my feet tangled in my skirts as I fell in a heap. Neither of them noticed.

“Can’t even fight like a real man!” Chris shouted. “Always hiding behind your magic.”

“Hardly,” Tristan replied. Then he punched Chris in the face. Chris staggered, and then with a shout, leapt forward, knocking Tristan backwards. They grappled on the ground, both of them landing heavy blows and neither of them paying any attention to my pleas for them to stop. Chris was older and his body was heavy from muscle that only hard labor could bring. But his was human strength. It was only a few moments until Tristan had him pinned, fingers latched tight around Chris’s throat.

“You’re killing him,” I shrieked, pulling at his wrists, trying to make him let go. “Tristan, stop this! Please!” I pounded my fists against his shoulders, dug my nails into his arms, but it was as if I were invisible. Chris’s face turned purple and his attempts to dislodge Tristan’s hands grew as weak and ineffective as my own. “Please stop!” I begged, but he wasn’t listening to me. So I screamed, my voice echoing through Trollus.

Boots pounded towards us and several trolls, including my mysteriously absent guards, appeared. Chris’s father was with them. “Stop them!” I shouted.

Jérôme tried to run forward, but one of the trolls snatched him off his feet. He dangled helplessly in the air, terrified eyes on his dying son. “Help him,” I screamed.

The trolls exchanged amused glances with each other and one of them shook his head at me. They wouldn’t help. If their prince wanted to strangle a human boy, why should they stop him?

I grabbed hold of Tristan’s shoulders again and pulled with all my strength, but it wasn’t enough. Chris was going to die, and I was powerless. Dropping to my knees, I pressed my lips to Tristan’s ear. “I will not forgive you if you do this. I will never forgive you if you kill him.”