I knew with painful certainty what would happen if I submitted: the trolls were doomed. But what would happen if I freed them? I wasn’t sure. The cost to human life could be beyond reckoning. Or the good I’d seen in Trollus might triumph, and there would be a chance that we could make everything work. That my friends I trusted so implicitly were strong enough to make things right.

Choose.

Squaring my shoulders, I got to my feet and started toward the city gate.

I would take this leap of faith.

“How much for the ox?” I asked, pointing to the aging creature in the feedlot outside Trianon. I had the hood of my cloak up, my face shadowed from the afternoon sun.

The proprietor raised an eyebrow and named an exorbitant price.

“That’s outrageous,” I muttered. “The creature won’t live another year.”

He shrugged. “It’s what the meat is worth.”

I chewed on the insides of my cheeks, knowing I didn’t have that amount of coin on me and that I didn’t have the time to procure it. Reluctantly, I unclasped my necklace from my neck and held it aloft – it was time I ceased wearing it anyway. All it symbolized was death.

“It’s gold,” I said. “Take it, and you’ll be ahead in the bargain.”

The man had played this game long enough to know not to react, but there was no mistaking the covetous way he watched the necklace swing from my hand. “Let me see it.”

I dropped the piece of jewelry into his palm. He judged the weight, bit the metal, and nodded.

Jerking my chin toward an ax embedded in a block of wood, I said, “I want that included, and a lantern as well.”

Both eyebrows went up at that, but he only nodded. I’d given him enough gold to excuse me from answering questions.

The light was fading into the orange of dusk by the time I reached the beach, the wind howling and cold, and the grey-tossed waves surging in on the coming tide. I led the ox down below the tide line. Whether it worked or not, the water would wash away the physical evidence of what I’d done.

The magnitude of the sacrifice affected the amount of power, which is why I’d chosen the largest creature I reasonably could have. But Anushka had killed a troll king, and I strongly suspected there was nothing I could sacrifice that would trump his death. I hoped to make up the difference by using regular magic as well, so I set up the scene as a ritual, praying that I’d be able draw enough power from the elements. It would have been better to do it on the full moon, but the best I could manage was to time it for the moment of transition at sunset.

Tying the ox to a fallen tree, I worked quickly, gathering up sticks and branches and arranging them in a circle about ten feet above the rising tide. I liberally sprinkled lamp oil on the branches for good measure. Kicking off my boots, I tossed them high on the beach; and retrieving the ox, I led him inside the circle. The wind caught and tore at my hair, but I ignored it, all my attention for the creature in front of me. He was old and tired from years of overuse, but knowing that didn’t make me feel any better about what I intended to do. Now was not the time to lose my nerve.