The moment I said it, I knew it was a mistake. Not because I was wrong, but because Tristan wasn’t ready to hear it. I should’ve explained the facts and given him the chance to come to the conclusion himself, because when it came to his father, he was not logical. He was not reasonable. He wasn’t himself.

The letter from his father exploded into silvery fire, and I dropped my hand from Tristan’s sleeve and took a step back from the heat.

He went very still in the way only trolls could manage, then slowly turned his head to fix me with an unblinking stare. That strange and alien gaze that seemed entirely without emotion. Almost without… life. A lie of an expression, because the sense of betrayal I felt from him twisted my guts. The silence stretched for what seemed like painful minutes before he exhaled and said, “Explain.”

“We went to talk to the fairies,” I started to say, then stopped, realizing that it sounded like I’d deliberately courted disaster. “We needed to know what was going on in Trollus – what our enemies were planning.” I glanced at Sabine, and she nodded once in encouragement. “I knew you’d send scouts to spy, but even if they evaded capture – which isn’t likely – they wouldn’t know what to look for. They wouldn’t understand the dynamics like we would. And I knew the fairies could open a hole that would allow me to see what’s happening in Trollus without risk of capture.”

“Without risk?” Tristan’s voice was toneless, but somehow managed to be filled with incredulity and admonition.

Ignoring the comment, I continued, “She came when I called, and bargained with me. In exchange for a song, she agreed to show me our enemy.” I dragged my gaze up from the floor to meet Tristan’s eyes. “She showed me Angoulême, Roland, and Lessa.”

“She?”

I nodded. “The Winter Queen.”

Victoria whistled through her teeth, but I barely heard it through the jolt of trepidation I felt from Tristan. “And?” he asked.

An explanation of what I’d seen poured from my lips, but as valuable as the information was, I was more interested in his reaction to the Queen’s comments about his father. I repeated the conversation word for word, and then held my breath, waiting.

Nothing.

“She thinks Angoulême is the enemy we should focus on.”

Tristan let out a humorless laugh. “No, she withheld what you really wanted so that she could get what she really wanted. Which was?”

I swallowed, my chest feeling tight. “She wanted me to arrange a meeting with you. She wanted to trick me into getting you outside these walls. But ultimately, what she wanted was your name.”

Everyone in the room went quiet.

“Obviously I declined that bargain,” I said.

“I suppose we can consider that a win,” Tristan said, and my spine stiffened.