My eyes skimmed the rest of the page, and then again, the page shaking between my fingers.

“He’s giving you the chance to start over, Cécile.” Chris knelt next to me and pushed the trembling page down into my lap. “You can have a life here, if that’s what you want. Here, in the Hollow.”

I knew what he was thinking, though the words remained unspoken. With dull eyes, I watched my family hurrying towards me. Chris was right: the right decision – the safe decision – would be to stay in the Hollow. To one day get married and have children and forget about Trollus. To forget about magic. To forget about Tristan.

You must never return to Trollus…

My eyes turned southward, towards the ocean and towards Trianon. Trollus might be forbidden to me, but there was no power on this earth that could make me forget. Or make me give up. I wasn’t powerless – far from it. I had witch magic in my blood strong enough to stop a troll, and that had to mean something. Who knew what I could accomplish with a little practice. And while I was learning, my hunt would begin. I wasn’t certain where I’d find her or what I’d do when I did, but there was one thing I knew for certain.

The witch must die.

II

Hidden Huntress

For my mom, who reads the dreadful first drafts, the polished final drafts, and the many, many versions in between. Thanks for everything you do.

Chapter 1

Cécile

My voice faded into silence, though the memory of it seemed to haunt the theatre as I slumped gracefully, trusting that Julian would catch me, however much he might not want to. The stage was smooth and cool against my cheek, a blessed relief against the heat of hundreds of bodies packed into one place. I tried to breathe shallowly, ignoring the stench of too much perfume and far too few baths as I feigned death. Julian’s voice replaced mine, and his lament echoed across my ears and through the theatre, but I only half-listened, my attention drifting away to fix on the all too real sorrow of another. One far out of reach.

The audience erupted into cheers. “Bravo!” someone shouted, and I almost smiled when a falling flower brushed against my cheek. The curtain hit the stage floor, and I reluctantly opened my eyes, the red velvet of the curtains pulling me back into an unwelcome reality.

“You seem distracted tonight,” Julian said, hauling me unceremoniously to my feet. “And about as emotive as my left boot. She won’t be best pleased, you know.”

“I know,” I muttered, smoothing my costume into place. “I had a late night.”

“Shocking.” Julian rolled his eyes. “It’s tiring work ingratiating yourself with every rich man and woman in the city.” He took my hand again, nodded at the crew, and we both plastered smiles on our faces as the curtain rose again. “Cécile! Cécile!” the audience shouted. Waving blindly, I blew a kiss to the sea of faces before dropping into a deep curtsey. We stepped back to let the rest of the cast take their bows before coming forward again. Julian dropped to one knee and kissed my gloved fingers to the roaring approval of the crowd, and then the curtain dropped for the final time.