“Attached to the little thing already?” the King smirked, the chair he settled into groaning beneath his weight.

“She was brought here to serve a purpose,” Tristan scoffed. “What I am attached to is my life. You know the risks.”

The King chortled at this and his son laughed along with him. Tristan’s words were surprisingly painful to me – not that I had any reason to expect anything different. I’d been brought to Trollus to lift the curse – and I’d failed. Why should he care what happened to me now? But why would my death jeopardize his life?

“As it turns out,” the King said, laughter cutting off abruptly, “she’ll be neither leaving nor dying.”

Tristan froze, and this time the shock on his face matched that in his mind. “Pardon?”

“Your aunt believes it premature for me to give up on her fulfilling the prophesy. She proposes we keep her around for a while longer, and that you should treat her as any man does his wife. We need to give the people some form of hope or who knows what sort of trouble they’ll cause.”

Tristan blanched. “You can’t be serious?”

The King raised one eyebrow.

“She’s a human.”

“I noticed.” The King took another mouthful of wine, leaving a red stain on his upper lip.

“You want me to…”

“Yes. You’ve bonded her, and now you shall bed her. I can’t say I relish the idea of a bunch of half-bloods running about the royal nursery, but quite frankly, I’d breed you to a sheep if that is what it took to break the witch’s blasted malediction. You’re seventeen years old, time to man-up.”

“I don’t care for mutton.” Tristan crossed his arms. “It’s too tough.”

“Well then count your lucky stars that your dear Cécile isn’t a sheep,” the King said, climbing to his feet. “I’m certain you’ll find her markedly more tender.”

I pressed back against the closet, bile rising in my throat. They were discussing me as though I had no more value than a side of meat, and… My mind refused to delve any further into what else they were discussing.

“This isn’t a debate, Tristan. This is an order – do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Tristan said, plainly out of glib retorts.

His father patted him on the shoulder. “It will be worth the cost once you are outside in the sun – just imagine, eventually you’ll rule lands wider than the eyes can see.”

“Who wouldn’t want that?”

The King nodded, satisfied. “Good lad.”

As the door shut behind him, I let out a huge gust of breath that I hadn’t noticed I’d been holding. “Tristan,” I whispered. “Get me out of here.”

He didn’t move from where he sat on the arm of a chair.

“Tristan!”

He looked up, his troll-light casting eerie shadows on his face. “I’ll send someone to let you out,” he said. “I need to…” He got to his feet and, ignoring my pleas, left the room.