I helped Cécile to her feet, then lifted her into the air. She’d been pushed to the point of death and beyond in this past day, and we weren’t done yet. I needed her, and that meant conserving her strength. “I can’t risk an encounter with Roland within Trollus,” I said, cloaking us in illusion and dimming my light. “The city would be destroyed along with everyone in it. We’ll need to lure him out to fight, but I don’t know how.”

“We lure him out by capturing the one who holds his strings.”

I risked a glance down at my wife. She was so very pale, skin marked with livid bruises and scratches. What had happened to her in the days that she’d been gone? In the days where I hadn’t cared whether she lived or died? One thing was certain: I needed to get her help immediately. “That would be a good plan, but I don’t know where Angoulême is.”

A faint smile cross her lips. “But I do. He’s with your ancestors,” she said, then she passed out in my arms.

Chapter 38

Cécile

I woke to the smell of wood smoke and roasting meat, my body sore, but the worst of my aches and pains gone.

“She’s awake. I’ll give you two a moment alone,” I heard my gran say, and as I blinked away the stickiness in my eyes, Tristan leaned over me. “How do you feel?”

“Better.” I looked around the interior of the cabin. “I don’t remember getting here.”

“That’s because you slept the entire way,” he replied, then twisted from side to side, cracking his back. “You’re heavier than you look.”

I made a face, allowing him to help me upright. “I meant, how did you find the camp?”

“I have my methods,” he said, then he kissed me. “Though you might wish I hadn’t. Everyone is quite angry about that stunt that you pulled.” His lips found mine again, harder this time, his teeth catching my bottom lip. “What were you thinking?”

“What were you thinking with that stunt you pulled?”

He made a noise that was both agreement and exasperation, then sat next to me on the cot, his arm strong and steady behind my back. I took in his messy hair, torn clothes, and face marked with a streak of soot. His mouth was drawn into a thin line, and I wondered when I’d last seen him smile. Or if he ever would again. How much of the truth did he know about his family? And if he knew nothing, would me telling him do any good?

“Are you all right?” I asked.

He inhaled softly, and I knew he was thinking of deflecting my question, but instead he shook his head, a quick jerk from side to side. Not all right.

“Your aunt,” I said. “She told me things about your father–”

“I can’t,” he interrupted. “Not now. I just… I don’t want to think about it. Him. Them.”