“Don’t be foolish,” the King interrupted. “The last thing I intend is to wipe out humanity. I need your kind. Do you expect the Duke d’Angoulême to pick up the plow to work the field? Or your dear friend, Marc, the Comte de Courville, to lay paving stones day in and out?” He waved a hand at me as though my fears were utter madness. “Do not stand there and preach to me that the Regent of Trianon does not have laws, or that his aristocracy is any less dismissive of their commoners than we are of ours.”

He pointed a finger at me. “You call me a tyrant, but I can say that there isn’t one individual in Trollus who goes hungry or doesn’t have a roof over his head. Every last one of them is educated and employed. Can your regent claim as much?”

I bit my lip. “What about freedom? The Regent allows no slavery on the Isle.”

The King made a face. “Why don’t you go ask those starving in the Pigalle quarter how much their freedom is worth. Or those freezing to death in ditches along country roads.” He rested a hand against the barrier. “You would be exchanging one aristocracy for another. Those such as your father would still raise pigs and sell them at market. Your mother would still sing onstage for those who could afford a ticket. For most, very little about their lives would change.” He sighed deeply. “How much are you willing to sacrifice for your ungrounded fears?”

“Don’t listen to him,” Chris said from behind me. “He’s only acting in his own interests.”

“And you aren’t, Christophe Girard?” The King spoke to Chris, but his gaze remained fixed on me. Gauging my reaction. “Don’t tell me,” he continued, “that you have not considered how you might benefit from keeping Cécile and my son separated.”

“Tristan being freed is the least of my concerns,” Chris retorted, but their words washed over me unheard. Were my fears unfounded? I closed my eyes and remembered the paintings Tristan had shown me, depicting what life had been like for humanity under troll domination. Remembered the drawings of humans begging for salvation after the Fall and the atrocities that followed. Would it be the same under King Thibault? Better? Or worse? I clenched my teeth.

But what he said next changed everything.

“I have no intention of going to war to regain my kingdom,” the King said. “Power over the Isle will be ceded to me peacefully.”

I felt my jaw drop open. “How can you claim such a thing?”

He gave a slight shake of his head. “That is for me to know – I would not care for my plans to be disrupted. That,” he added, “might necessitate violence against your kind, which is something I wish to avoid. I’ve seen enough bloodshed, and I grow weary of it.”

Of all the things I had expected him to say, that hadn’t been one of them: an offer of a peaceful resolution from the mouth of one who could not lie. Yet I could not find it in myself to believe him. Still, I’d be a fool not to try to discover the rest of his plans.