She went still, and I thought it over, but then she stirred. “Cécile?”

“Yes?” I asked, afraid of what more there could be to say.

“What happened to Matilde was Angoulême’s doing. Roland may have wielded the blade, but he wept as he was doing it.”

She said no more.

Reaching down, I gently brushed her eyelids shut, then the Queen’s as well. When I looked up, Lessa, still wearing her Anaïs disguise, was smiling at me.

I jerked the knife out of the Queen’s chest, holding it up as I climbed to my feet. It was coated with her blood, but I didn’t know if there was enough power in it to bind Lessa or not. Nor was I sure if I could get close enough to find out.

“I ought to just kill you and be done with it,” Lessa said, her eyes glittering with amusement at the knife. “But keeping you alive might serve a better purpose. For now.”

Run.

But my feet were fused to the ground with magic, and before I could try to throw the knife or work another spell, Lessa threw back her head and screamed, “Help! Someone help! The Queen has been murdered.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Cécile

Beneath Trollus ran a network of sewers. Below that, extensive caverns and vaults where grain and foodstuffs were stored. Underneath that, I discovered, was where the trolls kept their prisoners. That it was devoid of light was a given, but as the guards dragged me deeper into the earth, it seemed darker than the city, than the mines, than even the labyrinth, because it was so very far from any sort of light.

The low-ceilinged tunnels were damp with moisture, the air stale as though no one came down here very often. Or perhaps stale from the countless exhalations of prisoners who would never again see light.

The guards hadn’t doubted Lessa’s words when they’d come upon us, me holding a knife coated with blood, the troll queen and her conjoined twin sister lying dead at my feet. While most would’ve forgiven Tristan for killing his father – many even applauding him for it – having his human wife achieve the same results by killing his mother was another matter. At best, it made him a coward, and at worst… Well, the Queen had been well-loved by her people, and the Duchesse, too. Their murderer would not be forgiven.