And I’d put everything they were working toward in jeopardy.

It didn’t matter that I hadn’t known. That I’d been motivated to rid my sister, Marc – and all of Trollus – of a future ruler who I’d believed was a villain. A tyrant in the making. Good intentions didn’t make up for the fact that I’d given my father information to help in his war against the only faction in Trollus attempting to do any good. Which meant I needed to find a way to undo the damage that I’d done.

Opportunity came in the form of one of my father’s gatherings. A select group of aristocrats arriving under the cloak of illusion through the open front door, the only clue to their presence the massing of power under our roof. A group of trolls who, for reasons unknown, wanted no one in Trollus to know they were meeting in one place.

Which, in my mind, meant they were discussing something worth hearing, especially when they all ventured into the atrium.

Easing open one of the delicate doors, I slipped off my shoes and crept into the glass structure. This was my father’s abode, and for that reason alone, I avoided it unless in my sister’s company. Still, I knew the paths through the garden like the back of my hand, as well as the best places to hide.

Extinguishing my light, I drifted through the maze of stone sculptures and fountains, the air full of mist from water that sprayed and soared in every direction, whether it belched from the mouths of dragons or created arching paths for dancing pixies. Streams gurgled under delicate bridges, tiny fish made of gold and jewels glittering in the light of the artfully placed lamps. Heated sconces released the scent of gardenias, and from above, raindrops fell in an occasional storm, making a soothing pitter-patter against the ground below.

At the center of the oasis sat a large gazebo, and it was from there that I felt the press of magic from at least a dozen powerful trolls. I could hear nothing over the echoing sound of running water, which was likely why they had chosen this meeting place. At best, they discussed secrets, at worst, treason against the crown. My bet, my hope, was they discussed both. The area around them would be warded, but I knew my father and his traps. And how to avoid them.

Reaching one of the small bridges, I crouched next to it and formed a small raft of magic that I placed atop the water. Hooking my shoe heels into the bodice of my dress, I knelt on the raft, holding onto the bridge until I had my balance, an illusion of running water balanced over my head. Then I let go.

The raft wobbled and rocked as it made its way down the stream, and I held my breath as I floated over the perimeter of my father’s ward, the ground and stream bed coated with magic set to do horrible things to anyone who set foot where they were unwanted. That included me, should I fall in and touch the bottom.