Cutting down onto the sand, I risked a glance out to sea and confirmed my hope. The skiffs were moving, propelled by a dozen or so trolls that no doubt had been responsible for forcing the people into the wooden craft in the first place. All I had to do was keep him engaged until they were across. Never mind that it might take them hours.

Skidding to a halt, I turned, waiting for Roland to cusp the hill so that I could launch an attack of my own.

His short legs were pumping hard as he came into sight, tear-streaked face a twisted mixture of wrath and desperation, and never in my life had I hated Angoulême more. Who did this to a child? Who used an eight year-old boy as a tool to slaughter their enemies, especially when said enemies were the boy’s own family members?

But conflicted or not, Roland didn’t hesitate to attack. Our powers collided with thunderclaps that shook the earth, explosions of heat melting snow for miles around. His strategy was nearly as mindless as my mother’s had been, but as with her, his total disregard for his own safety or the destruction he was causing allowed him to channel more power into his offensive.

Not that it should matter: he was eight. A child. A decade from realizing the potential of his power.

He struck again, and my magic shuddered violently. Again, and my heel slipped. Again, and I had to take a step backward or risk falling.

A wicked little smile blossomed on his face, and fear twisted up my spine like a snake. Contrary to popular opinion, I was not the most powerful troll living.

Not even close.

Chapter 52

Cécile

Fallen straight into Angoulême’s trap, and there was nothing we could do about it. This battle would be over in a matter of moments, and we were hours away. Tristan was on his own. Marc, Sabine, and all our friends in Trianon were on their own. There was nothing I could do to help.

“What are our options?” I asked, staring down at my boots. Melted snow was pooling around them, seeping in to chill my toes, but I couldn’t be bothered to move.

“If I travel light, I might be able to make it in time to do some good,” Victoria said.

I knew what travel light meant – without me. “Go,” I said. “Take Vincent. Run.”

“Cécile…”

“It’s not a request,” I snapped. “It’s a command. Go. Now.”

In a heartbeat, they were gone, leaving me alone with Chris and my grandmother.

“We always knew it would come down to a battle between trolls,” Chris said, taking my hand. “We’ve done what we can. Now we wait to see who wins.”

But his words were clipped, the muscles in his jaw standing out against his skin. Passiveness sat about as well with him as it did with me.

And it sat not at all well with my gran. “Enough of this defeatism,” she snapped. “Those are human beings surrounding Trianon and some of them are hurt. Which we can do something about. Pack your bag, Cécile. Chris, you saddle those horses, and be quick about it.”