“It’s not for lack of your master trying,” I said, crossing my arms.

“I am King,” Roland replied, his face twisting. “I have no…” His throat choked off the lie, and I could all but feel his fury. “What is it you want, human?”

“Revenge.” I hesitated, terrified of saying something that would trigger one of the traps the Duke had placed in the boy’s mind. “Angoulême has taken everything from me, just as he has taken everything from you.”

“He gave me the crown, just as he said he would.”

“Has he?” I asked, then before he could respond, “For your brother’s sake, will you hear me out?”

“Tristan cares not what I do.” Roland said, eyes going to his boots. “He’s dead.”

It was no answer, but I knew I had him – that he’d listen. “I know the Duke forced you to kill your parents and your aunt,” I said. “And to… attack your brother.” I bit the insides of my cheeks. “He has your name and he controls what you do.”

The barest hint of a nod.

“How can you truly be king if you are controlled by another?” I asked. “He is only using you for your power, Roland. To eliminate any who are strong enough to contest him.”

Silence.

“You know that is Lessa pretending to be Anaïs? That he betrothed you to his lover who is also your half-sister, and if that were not awful enough, he intends to cuckold you and pretend the child is yours. And when that child is strong enough to hold the throne, he intends to kill you and your sister so that there are no Montignys left. So that there are none alive more powerful than him.”

“What is it you would have me do?” Roland’s voice was acidic. “As you say, he is the one in control.”

I lifted my chin, forcing myself to hold his gaze. It was like staring into the eyes of a viper. “So you would live the rest of your life under his thumb, as his puppet, until he decides to do you in?”

Roland’s jaw tightened.

“What if there was another way?” I asked, before his temper snapped. “What if we could make it so that he could no longer use you as his weapon?”

“How?”

I swiftly explained to him how my spell worked. “You would be immortal,” I said. “Your powers would be the same as your great ancestor, the King of Summer, and you’d be able to travel to worlds beyond counting.”

For all he was mad, Roland wasn’t stupid. I didn’t dare mention that if he went through with our scheme, that Angoulême wouldn’t last long in the land of the living: Marc was certain the Duke would have set triggers in the boy’s mind to attack anyone who threatened his master. I didn’t have to say anything – Roland knew as well as anyone that Angoulême had many enemies who would take advantage of his vulnerability.