“No,” I said, taking hold of her upper arms and drawing her back.

“What do you mean, no?” she demanded, twisting to look up at me.

“No magic. No spells,” I said. “Leave him be.”

“But he’ll die!”

I didn’t answer, only held her steady and away from my cousin, my best friend. Victoria was on her knees next to him, shoulders shaking as she wept, but when she lifted her head, her eyes were full of understanding.

Cécile was thrashing in my arms. “You can’t do this, Tristan. You can’t let him die. Please let me help him.”

But she wouldn’t be helping him. For my own sake, not his, I’d forced him to live when Pénélope had died. I wouldn’t do it again. This was his decision, and he’d made it. Whether I agreed didn’t matter. It wasn’t my choice.

“Please,” Cécile whispered, but she ceased struggling. And she wasn’t speaking to me. “Marc, please don’t leave us. We need you. I need you.”

His gaze shifted to hers, and whatever she saw there made her shoulders slump. She nodded once, then stepped away from me. Then taking a deep breath, she sang. It was the lament she’d sung for Élise, and it echoed hauntingly through the ravine and up into the night sky. Sabine and Victoria moved back, and I dropped to my knees and took my friend’s hand.

His heart was faltering, his breathing ragged and uneven. It would not be long. But what could I say in the space of moment that would do justice to the troll who’d been like an older brother to me? What was I without him? What would I become without him? The world and fate and the stars had given him nothing. Had stolen away almost everything that had mattered to him. And yet despite all he had endured, he was twice the man I’d ever be. If the world were just and fair, I would be the one lying broken on the rocks.

But the world was not just. And it most certainly wasn’t fair.

Say something. I clenched my teeth, desperately searching for the words that would convey how much he meant to me. How badly losing him would hurt. How much I didn’t want to let go. Then he caught my eye, and I knew I didn’t have to say anything all. And in the knowing, I was able to speak. “I hope you find her,” I said, my voice cracking as I clenched his hand tight.

The light in his eyes glowed bright for that last faltering heartbeat, then burned out.

Marc was gone.

Chapter 63

Cécile

It took time for me to forgive Tristan, and even longer to understand the choice he’d made, though I never really accepted it. Marc’s loss was a hurt that was felt by many, and whenever I saw Sabine sitting alone, face marked with grief, my anger flared anew, because there had been a chance. A chance for life, for love, for a future, and now…