“No,” Angoulême said, his voice full of mockery. “But then again, Roland isn’t in Trollus.” He laughed, and I heard the tap tap of his cane against the stone floor of the tomb as he retreated into his depths. “I suggest, Your Highness, that you start running now.”

Chapter Forty

Cécile

The twins’ mining skills had come in handy, as they’d easily drilled a tunnel into the rear of the tombs under the cover of Tristan’s attack.

“Where did they put the bodies?” I asked, running a finger over the dusty statue lying prone on an altar of carved marble and glass. My finger left a streak of gleaming gold in its wake, and I bent low over the figure’s face, marveling at the level of detail, from the realistic swell of the troll’s lips to the slight creases at the corners of his sightless diamond eyes.

“That is the body,” Victoria replied, smiling slightly as I recoiled, shoving my offending hand into my pocket. “They dip them in liquid gold after they die.”

“Still?” For some reason, the notion horrified me: being encased in metal for all of eternity.

“Maybe that’s why Thibault ate so much in his later years,” Vincent said, coming back from his assessment of the piece of stone sealing the room. “He wanted to ensure his final resting place was worth the most.”

Victoria laughed, but I remained silent. Thibault had been a villain, but he deserved respect. “Do not speak ill of the dead,” I said, but my words were drowned out by a series of percussive blasts.

Vincent took advantage of the noise to shift the stone blocking the entrance, and then he cautiously eased out before stepping back in and nodding.

Sandwiched between Vincent and Victoria, I stepped out into the corridor, taking in what I could of our surroundings. I’d expected it to be dark and close, but much like the chamber we’d just left, the ceilings were high and painted with brilliant depictions of both trolls and fairies alike. The floors were dusty, but they were as smooth as polished tile, and railings inlaid with golden vines ran up both sides of the hallways.

Though Tristan had plumbed the depths of his seemingly endless store of knowledge, all he’d been able to tell us was that the tombs were a vast multilevel maze of chambers and corridors that were illuminated with natural light through the use of tiny shafts and mirrors placed just so. More mirrors sat above the golden railings, and though we were encased in as much rock as we ever were in Trollus, the halls practically glowed with sunlight.

Dusty and faded, the tombs remained beautiful. And entirely wasted, I thought, on the dead.