“Aye, well.” Chris took a fourth cake. “Let’s hope our help is enough.” He hesitated. “Do you know what you’ll do when you find her?”

Would I kill her?

“I honestly don’t know.” I sighed. “Nearly everyone I care about is in Trollus. It was easy to desire Anushka to live and the curse to endure when I was in there with them. When I could protect them. But I’ve abandoned them to the mercy of a handful of very powerful and dangerous trolls, and knowing I’ve done so eats at my conscience.”

Chris leaned back in his chair, expression thoughtful. He spoke simply, but anyone who took him for a fool was one themselves. “You’re thinking about going back once you’ve got Cécile clear of your father, aren’t you?”

Reluctantly, I nodded. “I’ve thought about it. But if I did go back, I’d have to kill my father, which might well kill my mother and my aunt. I’d have to kill my brother. And only then would I be in power, but for how long? Everyone would know that I held the freedom of my people in my grasp and threw it away. They’d hate me for it, and how long until one of them found a way to put a knife in my back? Then it would be a war for the throne, and who can say how many would die. The beginning of the end was five centuries ago when Anushka entombed us in rock, but this I think would see her act through to completion.”

“Or you could set them free.”

“And entertain an entirely different set of costs,” I replied, full well knowing that I’d thought of that option as much as the one of which I’d just spoken.

“Stuck between a rock and a hard place, aren’t you?”

I laughed, wishing it didn’t sound so bitter. “Every day of my life.”

A knock sounded at the door. Chris rose to his feet. “That will be Sabine, I expect.”

The blonde girl strode in, kissed Chris on the cheek, then took the seat furthest from me. “I’ve come from tea with Cécile. She’s put your plan in motion, so I suppose we’ll soon see if it works.” Pouring tea into a delicate china cup, she blew gently on the contents. “Genevieve’s returned – she dropped in on Cécile’s fitting with the dressmaker.”

Chris made a sympathetic noise. “Cécile got a bit of a tongue-lashing, I reckon?”

“Oddly enough, no.” Sabine took a mouthful of tea. “She said Genevieve seemed out of sorts and was perhaps not yet recovered from her affliction. She stayed only long enough to see the dresses she’d commissioned for Cécile, and then she left.”

“That’s a stroke of luck,” Chris muttered. “Not like that woman to let a grievance go.”

“I doubt she has,” Sabine said. “I’m sure she’s only waiting for a prime moment to dole out punishment.”

“Any sign of Aiden or of Cécile’s brother?” I asked. Cécile believed there was little risk of a repeat attempt at kidnapping her, but I was still wary of her walking around the city alone.