His gaze was full of the knowledge of what had been done to him, but still he said, “Not yet. Not until Angoulême is dead.” He shifted awkwardly in the snow, back arching and head twisting from side to side in a futile struggle to move. “He has to pay for what he did to her.”

“He will,” I said. “I promise he’ll pay for it.” The air pulsed slightly with the power of my oath, and he settled back, eyes on me. “Let me help you,” I said.

“No,” Martin whispered. “Not until he’s dead. I need to see him dead.”

I exhaled softly, knowing I couldn’t deny such a request, then turned to Chris, who was still on his hands and knees. “I need you to take him to Cécile’s grandmother. He shouldn’t be that heavy without–” I broke off as Chris blanched. But then he nodded.

“Cauterize them,” Martin whispered. “I don’t want to bleed out while I wait.”

For the first time in my life, my magic faltered. Trying again to raise heat, I swallowed hard as it failed again.

“Cécile’s braver than you,” Martin said around clenched teeth. “She wouldn’t flinch.”

“I know.” Then fire burned in the palm of my hand, and the stench of scorched blood filled the air. Martin screamed once, then fainted, and when I was finished, I vomited in the snow.

“Go,” I said to Chris, and without looking to see if he complied, I followed the trail of Martin’s blood into the ravine.

The walls rose up to either side of me, cut sheer by a stream that had run this way since before trolls walked this world. At first, the rock was unadorned, but as I rounded the first bend, the carvings began. Princes and princesses, dukes and duchesses, their expressions austere and eerily similar to my own. Many of them I recognized, but as I drew closer, the elements had washed away all but the suggestions of faces. It didn’t matter: they were my family. All of them. And Angoulême had no right to be in this place.

The ravine snaked its way between the two mountains, abruptly opening into a wide circular space, with a third peak at its far side. At the center lay a small lake frozen solid, and all around rose statues of the kings and queens from before the Fall. Their eyes were set with glass that had once been filled with troll-fire, and it seemed they were all watching me, fixing me with silent scrutiny. The entire space hummed with magic, the ground coated with it and the air so thick with it that it seemed scarcely breathable.

But there was no sign of life.

Maybe he’s gone, a little voice whispered my head. Maybe you’re too late.