“But instead I offer you a choice,” Tristan continued. “Side with me and fight for the freedom of your race.”

“Or?” The Regent wasn’t a weak man – was as born and bred to politics as Tristan. But I did not miss the unsteadiness in his voice.

“Or don’t. And I will walk away and leave you to fight this war on your own with no doubt in my mind that it will be over by morning. And all that your people will have lost – lives and loved ones and liberty – will be on your hands. That is, if my father allows you to live long enough for you to see the outcome of your choice.”

All the world’s blood will be on your hands… My mother’s, no, Anushka’s words, echoed through my thoughts, and I bit my lip.

The Regent’s eyes tracked to my brother, who remained disguised as Lord Aiden. “You knew this was coming, and yet said nothing?”

Wise enough to know the man would recognize that Fred’s voice was not his son’s, my brother only nodded and hung his head.

The horns of Trollus ceased their call, yet, in their absence, somehow seemed more present. More ominous.

“Choose,” Tristan said, and only our bond gave away his apprehension.

The Regent let out a ragged breath and inclined his head, the cords in his neck standing out as though his body itself fought the gesture of subservience. “Very well.” He turned his head to a man standing to his left. “Assemble the council.”

The crowd parted to make a path to the entrance of the castle, but the Regent stepped to one side. “After you, Your Highness.”

Tristan started forward, Fred and the Regent falling in behind him, and none of them looked back. I raised a foot to follow, then lowered it back into the puddle that the magic coating my skin had melted into the snow. I was not needed in this, nor, I thought, glancing down at my tattered and bloodstained costume, welcome.

The crowd of nobles dispersed, some calling desperately for their carriages so they might escape to the dubious safety of their homes, while others went to peer through the lowered portcullis, the wind having eroded away the dragon’s shape, leaving behind only a mound of snow. Many of them cast suspicious glances my way, understanding that I was somehow involved, but none of them guessing in what capacity. That I was responsible. That in the space of a few heartbeats, I had determined the fate of us all.

Almost from the moment I’d known the trolls existed, my purpose had been set. My goal known. Kill the witch. End the curse. Rescue Tristan. Free my friends. All of which I had accomplished.

And now?