“No sign of Lessa, but Roland is inside with two of Angoulême’s lackeys,” he told them. “Roland, it would seem, has developed an intense dislike for the sun.”

“And here I thought I’d never find common ground with the boy,” Vincent replied, rubbing at one eye. “No doubt Lessa has the place warded, and even if she doesn’t, we get that close and one of them is going to sense our power.”

“Agreed.” Marc rested his elbows on the door of a stall, eyes on the horse within, though I doubted he was giving it much thought. “They’ll have to come out eventually, though it will likely be after dark. We’ll ambush them then.”

“When they’re expecting it.” The words were out of my mouth before the thought was fully formed. “They might think Tristan won’t attack his brother, but they aren’t fools. They’ll have taken precautions, and they know he’ll be more likely to make his move when Roland isn’t surrounded by innocents.”

Taking a moment to organize my thoughts, I sat on a bale of hay. “It’s the core of their strategy: they’re building an army of humans not because they’re a threat to Tristan, but because he won’t harm them. They’re forming a human shield.”

“What do you propose?” Marc asked. “Our entire strategy is predicated on us catching him unaware, which is impossible with them closeted inside that building.”

“What about through the window?” Victoria asked. “A quick burst of magic and–”

“He’s flanked by the other trolls and the line of sight isn’t good,” Marc said, shaking his head. “You’d have to be only a few paces away to have a clear shot, and he’d sense the magic. None of us can get close enough, and if we take out the entire building, there’ll be countless human casualties.”

I coughed once, and waited.

Three sets of silver eyes turned on me. “No,” Marc said. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” I asked. “He’s letting the humans right up close to him. What better chance do I have to cut him off from his magic?”

“Probably none,” Marc said.

“Well then?”

“Cutting him off from his power is only half the battle,” he replied. “Unfortunately for you and for us, he doesn’t need magic to rip out your throat. Which is exactly what he’ll do if you walk in, curtsey, and then throw a perfume bottle full of blood at his face.”

“I wasn’t planning to get that close,” I muttered. “I’ve a good arm.”

“And what about the other two? Three, if Lessa is close by, which we should assume she is. Is your aim good enough to take out all of them?”

“You three can take out those two, and if Lessa is there, I won’t act.”

“But you will come out oath-sworn to Roland, which is problematic,” Marc said. “It’s a bad plan.”

“It’s humans who are enforcing the lines,” I countered. “It’s nothing for me to compel my way out.”

“Not without drawing attention to yourself, which runs the risk of Roland or Lessa seeing through your disguise.”