I turned back to my co-conspirator. “You called me pretty three times on the drive back to Trianon. I can’t recall the last time I received so many compliments in such quick succession.”

“Being called pretty as a girl isn’t a compliment, you know,” Chris said around a mouthful of his third cake.

“And I’m sure if I had a predilection for strapping farm boys, my heart would be broken by your insults.” I picked up a handful of coins, the motion sending pain lancing up my arm. I’d regained much of the mobility in my hands, but the wounds in my wrists remained black, seeping, and awful. “Here.”

He stopped chewing and eyed the glittering gold. “You think I’m fool enough to take that? Troll gold got for nothing is bad luck.”

“It isn’t got for nothing,” I said, dropping the coins on the table. “It’s for helping us.”

He shook his head and stared at his feet. “I don’t make that in a year, much less in the couple of weeks you say this will take.”

Stones, but he was honest to the core.

“The work you’ll be undertaking with me will be more difficult and dangerous, so it’s only fair you be paid more.”

“This isn’t work,” Chris muttered. “I’m not doing it to get paid – that’s not what I’m looking for.”

“Trolls don’t like to be in anyone’s debt,” I told him. “So if it isn’t gold, it’s something else. Name it.”

He shrugged.

“Teacakes?” I suggested.

He scowled.

“Flowers?”

“I’ve never met anyone as annoying as you.”

I smiled and batted my eyelashes at him. “Kisses?”

Chris scooped up the coins and shoved them in his pocket. “Gold will be fine.”

I laughed and sat down in the chair across from him, but my good humor didn’t last. “We need your help, Chris,” I said. “Cécile and I can’t accomplish this alone, and you and Sabine are the only people in Trianon we can trust.”

And I did trust him. Which was altogether strange, given that I did not know him well. I remembered the first time we’d met – both of us had been children, and his father had brought him to Trollus for the first time. We’d had a strong relationship with the Girard family for generations, as they’d sold us not only the bulk of their farm’s yield, but were also responsible for procuring grain and produce in the markets in the southern half of the Isle. Christophe stood to inherit the farm and the family business, so his arrival had been expected and planned for.

There had been a bit of a ceremony when he’d given his oaths, and I’d been the one to take them. They’d been the first set I’d received, although there had been hundreds since. It was the King’s duty to collect them, as it had the added advantage of protecting him from his enemies. But while it was typical for a King to pass the duty off to his heir once he or she was grown, it had been very unusual for my father to pass the duty to his eight year-old son. Yet it had worked out for me in the end, because it was the only reason Chris was free to speak of us outside the confines of Trollus.