“Is he dead?” I asked, hardly willing to believe it was possible.

“Quite.” Marc dropped the edge of the white sheet of canvas that, along with a fresh dusting of snow, had been used to conceal the opening. Keen eyes would have seen the trap, but those of a running troll half blind from the sun? Not likely.

A grouse called from the woods, and I stiffened. “They’re watching us,” I said under my breath. If they were with Chris, then they were my friends, but I was in disguise and none but he would know Marc and the twins were allies. Lifting my hands to my mouth, I repeated the bird call.

Silence. And too much of it. “Companions of Chris will know who I am,” I whispered to Marc. He nodded once, and held out an arm to help me to my feet.

Taking a deep breath, I called out, “We’re no threat to you. I’m a friend of Christophe Girard.”

For several long and painful moments, no one responded, then the bushes rustled and Chris’s face emerged. “Cécile? What did you do to your hair?”

I winced at his use of my name, hoping the fairies weren’t watching. “Long story.” I gestured at the pit. “What’s going on here?”

He emerged from the bushes, and with a wave of his hand, four other faces appeared from the woods – all folk from Goshawk’s Hollow. “Tristan gave me a few ideas before I left,” he said. “The rest… Well, I remembered how blinded he was those first few days after he left Trollus, and I figured we could take advantage of that.”

“And you decided Roland should be your first target?” I balled my hands into fists, curbing the urge to lay into him for ruining our plans. What was done was done.

Chris shook his head. “We’ve been watching them. Roland refuses to come out into the sun, and besides, Lessa seems to control his every move. Didn’t seem likely she’d let him chase after us into the woods.” Scrubbing his fingers through his hair, he glanced into the pit. “The other two were our targets. Figured we’d take out as many as we could so Tristan’d have a clear shot at his brother. Speaking of which…”

“He’s protecting Trianon,” I said. “That’s why we’re here – he sent us to put a stop to Roland.”

Chris’s gaze shot back to me, his brow furrowing. “And judging from your tone, we muddied up your plans.”

I crossed my arms. “You’re supposed to be helping people to safety.”

“That’s already done,” he replied. “Your gran personally set to dragging everyone out of their homes and into the mountains, but…” He nodded at the four who’d overcome their fear of Marc and the twins and finally approached. “There’s plenty who’d rather fight than hide, and I’m one of them.”

I bristled at the implied accusation, but before I could respond, Marc asked, “How many have you killed?”

“Six.” Chris jerked his chin at the body in the pit. “If that scream was his friend, it will be seven. Cocky bastards are easy to separate, and they’ve not yet figured out our game.”