“Well, well. It seems you will never cease astonishing me with your resourcefulness, Cécile.” She sat back on her heels. “You have a way to find your troll master, do you darling? They are normally reluctant to carry charms and such, but I suppose five hundred years of captivity is enough to change even them.”

“Let her go, Mama.” Why did I call her that? “Please. She’s done nothing to deserve this. Let her go.”

“I need her.” Her eyes were unblinking. Calculating.

I shook my head, ducking under one of Tristan’s chains as I moved closer. “You need him. But Sabine doesn’t have to die – someone else would serve.”

“True,” Anushka replied, sitting back on her heels. “But she is here and likely to die from her other wound anyway.”

“You don’t need to curse the trolls again,” I said, desperately trying another tactic as the blood soaked into the carpet beneath Sabine. “I tried to break them free and I failed. I can’t do it. I don’t want to do it.” The lie slipped easily from my lips.

“And yet this one is free.” Rising to her feet, she walked around me to stand in front of Tristan. “Which means it’s possible, and a more permanent solution is in order.”

Taking advantage of the moment, I dropped to my knees next to Sabine. Tearing a strip of fabric from my skirt, I bound her shoulder as tightly as I could manage. My friend was pale and shaking, and if she didn’t get help soon, she’d bleed to death. She smiled bravely, then catching my hand, she placed it on her opposite forearm. Beneath the sleeve of her dress was something hard. A knife. I carefully extracted it, hiding it in the mesh belt of my dress.

“I’m weary of this life.” Anushka’s voice was soft. “I want the chance to live as I wish. Not to spend my days in fear that the trolls will catch me or that a foolish regent will burn me at the stake. Before, I was too blinded by hurt to see what needed to be done. But no longer.”

Kill her! I clenched my teeth against the rush of compulsion. She had the pistol pointed at Tristan, and it might go off if I stabbed her. Still, I edged closer.

She reached a hand to brush the hair off Tristan’s face, withdrawing it only when he lunged at her, his face taut with fury as he strained against the chains. “You have the look of Alexis,” she said. “But I suppose that’s no surprise. You all have the look of each other. Base things that you are.”

Turning away from Tristan, she went to a chest and pulled out a jar. Something moved from within. Keeping one eye on me, she set her pistol on a table next to a basin of what looked like lamp oil. Touching a candle to it, she waited for the flames to flare brightly, then she opened the jar and dumped in the contents. I caught a glimpse of a large spider, legs thrashing, and then it was gone, consumed. She murmured some words under her breath, and suddenly I couldn’t move, my legs frozen in place and my arms paralyzed at my sides. Helpless.