“Your Highness.” I curtseyed low, holding the position until my knees ached. Even without magic, I had no hope of outrunning him – he was many times faster than me, even at my best. “Is there some way I might assist you?”

He huffed out an annoyed breath. “I’d hoped you might run. The rudeness would have been enough excuse.”

Excuse for what?

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Your Highness.” My knees were starting to shake.

“No one understands.” His voice sounded almost sad.

“Roland!”

Never in my life would I have dreamed I’d be so happy to see the Duke d’Angoulême. He stalked past me toward the murderous prince, four tense-looking guards on his heels. “Stones and sky, boy! What could possibly have provoked you to do this?”

“He tripped and dropped the new Guerre set Lady Anaïs had made for me. I went all the way to the Artisan’s Row to collect it from Reagan, and now it is ruined.”

“Why do I suspect his tripping was no accident?” The Duke’s voice was acidic, and I could not help but notice he kept a wary eye on Roland.

The Prince climbed to his feet. “He walked behind, so I did not see it happen.” The knife he’d had in his hand was gone, and I wondered where he had hidden it. Not that he needed it.

“As though that makes all the difference.” Angoulême waved a hand at his guardsmen. “Clean this mess up. And you–” He turned around and pointed a finger at me.

I froze. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Pick that up and bring it.”

My eyes flicked to the box lying in the middle of all that gore. The last thing I wanted to do was pick it up and carry it into the heart of the lion’s den.

“Do it!” Angoulême was visibly upset, and I did not care to think what would happen if I disobeyed. Running forward, I picked my way through the mess of flesh and bone and reached for the box. As I was bending down, I saw Roland’s knife hidden in a fold of fabric, and before I could even think about what I was doing, I hid it in my skirts. Taking hold of the box, I heaved it up, afraid for a moment that I wouldn’t be able to lift it and would give myself away. But I managed to get it up, my fingers slick with troll blood and worse. Heart in my throat, I followed the two toward the Duke’s home, which I knew lay not far up the street.

The walls surrounding the house were higher than was typical in Trollus – as high as those around the palace, and just as well guarded. Armed full-blooded troll men and women watched the street, their expressions those who expect an attack at any minute. Two of them opened the gates for us, but none paid any attention to me.

“Where would you have me put this, Your Grace?” I altered my voice to keep it low, but I could not keep the shake from it.