He flinched, and I wondered how long it had been since someone had comforted him, if they ever had. If he had even wanted it. Then warm fingers clutched at mine, his chin trembled, and I knew the pain of the spell was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. How much terror had he caused in his young life? How many had died at his hands? His parents and his aunt, and, in his mind, his brother. Worse, how much emotional neglect had he suffered at Angoulême’s hands? His iron madness had been what drove him to commit all those atrocities, but now it was gone. And he was going to have to find a way to live with what he’d done.

A sob racked through his shoulders, and in a movement almost too fast to see, he curled up in a little ball, my fingers clutched painfully tight in one of his hands. In the same moment, I felt Tristan regain consciousness and relief thundered through my heart.

“Roland, Tristan’s alive,” I said. “He’s all right.”

He went still, then peered up at me with hope. Then his gaze flicked over my shoulder, and in a blur of speed, he slammed into me, knocking me flat on my back. I struggled against him, convinced that I’d been wrong about his madness being gone, when a wave of heat washed over our heads.

“You little human bitch,” Angoulême snarled. “What have you done?”

“Cured him,” I shouted, allowing Roland to pull me to my feet. He stepped between me and the Duke, and I wondered if he knew his powers had changed. “Good luck using him now, you abusive coward.”

“Cured him?” The Duke’s hands were balled into fists as he stalked toward us. “Cured him? You’ve ruined him – now he is nothing. He is worth nothing!”

Roland flinched, but stood his ground.

“Feeling brave, are we, you miserable little wretch?” Angoulême lifted a hand, face twisted with fury. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

The air filled with fire, but instead of incinerating us, it blasted around a shield of magic. Marc stepped into the clearing. “It’s over, Angoulême,” he said. “Surrender.”

The Duke spat in the dirt at Marc’s feet. “We’ve been through this before, you broken fool. You can’t defeat me.”

“Perhaps it’s time we put that to the test.”

Angoulême laughed. “Kill her, boy.”

Roland stiffened. Slowly, he turned to face me, and I saw tears were running down his face. “I’m sorry, Cécile,” he said. “I must obey.” Then he lunged.