While my ropes continued to flail above, I turned my attention to the rock beneath my feet, channeling heat into the earth until it glowed brilliant red, the water boiling and turning to steam in a violent blast. I launched out of the lake under the cover of the white cloud of mist, landing in a crouch on the edge of the now dry lake.

A whistling razor of power sank into my shield, then another and another, all coming from different directions. Pulling out my sword, I coated the steel with magic and listened, swinging hard, not just deflecting, but destroying the invisible weapons with explosions of silver sparks.

Then I turned on the door.

“Come out, come out,” I crooned, slipping strands of magic through the cracks to magnify my voice to a deafening level. Lifting a hand, I scratched my finger through the air, mimicking the magic I used to claw at the door. The sound was horrible, and with a smile, I repeated the gesture. Then I punched out with my fist, and a giant crack formed in the granite. Again, and a large piece split off, smashing as it hit the ground.

But I couldn’t draw this out much longer. He knew I was toying with him.

“I’d rather not destroy the last piece of our history remaining outside of Trollus,” I said, walking forward until I stood a few paces from the entrance. “Perhaps you might do the honorable thing and come out rather than hiding in yet another hole.”

“I think not, Your Highness.” The Duke’s voice filtered out on threads of magic, and if he feared his imminent demise, his tone did not betray it. “I’m quite comfortable where I am. Did you find my gift, by the way? Why you bothered sending such a weakling was beyond me – especially one who knew so much.”

Who could say what the librarian had told him under torture? But two could play at that game. “I haven’t seen the man in months, and I most certainly didn’t send him to do my dirty work. He was here to settle a different score. You are not a popular troll, Angoulême.”

Silence.

“Curious how I found you? I’ll tell you,” I said, not waiting for an answer. “It was straight from Lessa’s lips.” I adjusted the sleeves of my coat. “My sister is a double-crossing liar, Your Grace, and yet you’ve left her in charge of your puppet prince. It’s unlike you to be so trusting, but perhaps trust is a privilege you reserve for those who warm your bed.”

All I could hear was the whistle of the wind, and a bead of sweat trickled down my spine. What if he suspected our plan? What if even now, he was setting a trap? But then he spoke. “You’ve always been over fond of your own voice, Tristan.”