“Marc can help push them out of the harbor,” Tristan said. “I’ll send him straight away.”

My brother’s eyes widened, and it occurred to me that he really hadn’t seen the scope of a troll’s power. “Right,” he said, then looked away and scratched his chin, giving away his discomfort. “Lady Victoria explained your predicament. I think if we tell those in Trianon that you must remain in the city to keep it protected that none of them will protest too heartily about you not venturing out. For now, anyway.”

“It’s not far from the truth,” Tristan said, eyes going to fires in the distance. “His power has grown.”

Doubt twisted my guts, and I knew it was doing the same to Tristan’s. Roland was testing his powers, seeing how far he could push them now that he was freed of the confines of Trollus. And for the first time ever, I wondered who the most powerful troll on the Isle really was.

Chapter 12

Tristan

Dawn came far too soon.

While Cécile disappeared to check on Aiden, I spent the first hours of the morning listening to the tallies of soldiers, arms, and supplies. To strategies put forth by men who had no real concept of what they were facing. Even with my little demonstration, the idea that Roland could stand in the face of an army’s worth of artillery and laugh was inconceivable to them. And though the Regent’s council remained uneasy in my and Victoria’s presence, it didn’t take long for them to start talking over us. Fred they included in the conversation – given Aiden was only a ceremony away from becoming Regent – but the volume of his voice suggested he was no less frustrated.

“They really are quite dense,” Victoria said, sliding her chair back a couple paces and settling her booted heels on the table with a thud. Several of the men shot her appalled glances, but she ignored them. “Maybe we should have sent them down to watch Marc push boats out to sea.”

“I believe they are called ships,” I said, the conversation around us stalling, just as she had intended.

“Semantics,” she declared, and began pruning her fingernails with a razor sharp filament of magic. When all twelve pairs of eyes at the table were on her, she asked, “Are you lot of armchair generals ready to listen or must I sit through another hour of your abysmal strategies?”

Eyes bulged and jaws twitched, but before anyone could speak, the door opened and Marc came in, an out-of-breath man trailing at his heels. “First ships have returned,” my cousin said. “But not all of them will make it back.” He nudged the man. “Tell them.”

The sailor peered up at Marc, trying to get a glimpse within the depths of his hood, then seemed to think better of it. “We went up the coast, but kept lights out and silence on the deck as she directed,” he nodded at Victoria. “There’s some coastal villages that seem untouched – could see folk moving about with torches and lanterns – but others…” He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. “They’re nothing but glowing pits of char.”