But what sort of person was I if I did not give it? Even through his fury, I could feel Tristan’s hesitation. I knew how strong he was – that he could’ve snapped Aiden’s neck with one hand or worse. Yet instead he let death creep slowly toward the other man, not because he was cruel, but because he wasn’t a killer. That he was merciful by nature was what made him different from his father, from Angoulême, from Roland; and for us to have any hope of making a future worth living, he needed to remain that way.

“Tristan, he’s baiting you. Let him go.” I moved forward, forcing my mind to calm and our mutual anger to temper. “If you kill him, everything will come out. It’s what he wants.”

Tristan’s grip lessened, and with a hiss of disgust, he dropped Aiden to the ground. Casting a black look at Fred, he released him, then went to the balcony to look over the edge.

I knelt down next to the man who was destined to one day rule the Isle, watching as he wheezed and choked, hand pressed against his bruised throat. “You believe yourself better because you are human,” I said. “But you are not. You are weak, selfish, and your word means nothing. You are not fit to rule a privy. Get out of my sight, or I’ll spell you with an itch upon your privates that will have you squirming for the rest of your days.”

Not waiting to see if he listened, I poured two glasses of wine and forced one into Tristan’s hand as the door open and closed, both of them departed. “Pull yourself together,” I said. “Bouchard and his nephews will be upon us in moments.”

He nodded, eyes reverting to grey as they fixed on the people flooding back into their seats below. “They’ll never be safe while caged by the curse,” he said softly. “They are in danger from within and without, and what can I do to help them? How can I protect them?”

There was only one answer, but I bit my lip and said nothing until I heard the other men come back into the box.

“Is all well?” Bouchard asked, his brow furrowed.

“Everything is splendid,” I replied. “I believe the second half is about to begin.”

“I didn’t realize you were acquainted with Lord Aiden du Chastelier,” he said once Tristan had turned around.

Tristan didn’t answer, so I kicked him in the ankle.

“We’ve met in passing,” he eventually said. “He knows my father.”

I could see another question forming on Bouchard’s tongue, but now was not the time for inquisitiveness. “The curtain’s rising,” I said swiftly. “Best we take our seats.”

Whether the girls performed well or not in the second half, I could not have said, for I spent it with one eye on Tristan and the other on my thoughts. King Thibault might believe he had control over Lord Aiden, but we’d seen proof that control was tenuous at best. There were ways around any oath – he only needed to find them. And then what? His hatred of the trolls wasn’t limited to those who’d crossed him.