Sabine pressed a hand against the bloody shoulder of her gown, rubbing it as one does an old injury. “Tristan sent Chris back to the Hollow with instructions. They won’t be caught unaware.” But the expression on her face told me we were of a like mind, both wondering what possible preparations they could undertake to protect themselves.

I blew a breath out, watching it mist against the glass. “We can’t afford to wait around to see what they intend to do. We need to act first. Find out what they’re up to.”

“How?” Sabine asked. “I’m not guessing they’ll make it easy to spy on them, and if whoever we sent got caught–”

“The trolls will kill them,” I finished. But the Regent and Tristan would send them anyway, because what other option was there? The trouble was, I didn’t think that even if the spies made it there and back that they’d have anything useful to tell us. Counting numbers and establishing positions as one might do in a battle between human armies would do us no good, because the trolls wouldn’t fight that way. What we needed was to learn where allegiances lay amongst the trolls and the half-bloods, where the balance of power sat between the Duke and the King, and above all, what was going on in the mind of Thibault himself.

I exhaled another breath against the glass, watching as the mist formed into an elaborate pattern of frost even as a plan began to form in my mind. We needed to see, and for that, we needed the help of someone who saw all. “I have an idea,” I said. “But to put it into play, we’re going to have to go into the city.”

Chapter 4

Tristan

The wave of relief I felt from Cécile was little comfort; the distraction had been momentary, but it had certainly been damning. I forced her out of my thoughts, taking in the scene before me.

The Regent was dead.

Aiden stood frozen, sword slipping from his fingers to clatter against the stone floor. “What have I done?” he whispered. “What have I done?”

What he’d promised my father he’d do.

I slammed him to the floor with more force than was necessary, knocking him out. Then I blocked the doors and, most importantly, muffled the sounds of Lady Marie’s wails. Already, her dress was soaked with her husband’s blood, and she rocked back and forth, his corpse clutched to her chest.

“How is this possible?” the advisor asked, his eyes going back and forth between the unconscious Aiden and Fred wearing his Aiden mask. “What devilry is this?” He pulled a sword that appeared more decorative than useful, but before he could decide which man to attack, Marie wrenched it out of his hands.

“Monster,” she screamed, jabbing the point at the prone Aiden. “Take off my son’s face, you wretch.”

The tip of the blade thudded against my magic, and she screamed, attacking it over and over as though by sheer strength of will she could force the weapon through. I let her do it, taking the moment to come to grip with how quickly circumstances had devolved. How quickly I’d lost control.