Everything stilled. Not for a minute did I believe that he was offering my freedom out of the goodness of his heart. He was only doing it because he thought I could help him. But did that matter? If I helped him, I would be free. I could hand over Tristan’s papers and let Angoulême do the rest of the work. I could trust that he would do so – trolls were bound to keep their word.

“What do you mean by dispose?” I asked.

A smile slithered onto his face. “I think you know.”

My fingers curled against the sudden chill that racked me to the core. He’d kill Tristan.

“Your Grace. Your Highness.” Marc’s voice sliced through the tension, and the magic fell away from my throat.

“I’m surprised to find you here, given your ward is currently on a rampage through the city,” Marc said, examining a fingernail.

I could all but hear the sound of Angoulême’s teeth grinding together. “Your Highness,” he said, inclining his head. “Please do stay off the streets – I would hate to see anything happen to you.”

Marc waited until the Duke was around the corner before he said, “Did he hurt you?”

I shook my head.

Marc’s shoulders slumped. “Small mercies. Cécile, he’s a very dangerous man. You must stay away from him.”

“I didn’t exactly seek him out,” I muttered, prying my shoulders away from the wall. “He found me.”

Marc’s troll-light hung behind him, as it always did. Although I could not see his face in the shadows, I imagined his eyes narrowed.

“What did he want from you?” His voice shook with anger.

I kept silent. Anything I told Marc he was sure to tell Tristan, and I didn’t want to limit my options just yet.

“Do not trust him, Cécile,” Marc warned. “He holds no love for your kind.”

My kind…

My temper flared. “Oh, but I should trust you – you, who always hides in the shadows and refuses to let anyone look upon your face.”

“Is that what you want?” he hissed. “To look the monster in the eye? Is it easier for you to understand the danger when it comes from the mouth of something ugly and strange?”

“I’m not afraid of you, Marc.”

“Then you’re a fool,” he snapped. “You should be terrified of every last one of us.”

I shook my head. “Not you. You promised you’d never hurt me.”

A short bark of laughter filled the hallway. “You do not know how easy it is to get around words.” He turned away, pressing a pale skinned hand against the wall as though to balance himself. I frowned at the black lacework tattooing his skin. “I didn’t know you were bonded.”

In a blink of an eye, his hand disappeared into a pocket. “I’m not. She’s dead.”

My whole body jerked in surprise, and I wiped my hands against my skirts, horrified that I’d brought it up.

He turned back to me, face still shadowed. “What did Angoulême want?”