My mind couldn’t even begin to wrap itself around the concept, so I set that part of his explanation aside and focused on the last. “If it was so taxing, why did she do it?”

“Because she wanted to talk to you without his interference.” Marc rubbed his chin. “She didn’t care to risk a direct confrontation with him. It’s well within his power to do her a great deal of harm.”

And here I’d thought it was the other way around. I let my spoon fall against the lip of the bowl with a clatter. “Then why is he afraid of her?”

“He should be wary, yes. Her power is immense, and she commands an enormous host of deadly creatures. But her magic isn’t a weapon in the way a troll’s is.”

“I didn’t say wary.” My skin burned with my rising anger. “I said afraid.”

Marc hesitated, his stillness betraying his unease. “I don’t know.”

I desire to renew our acquaintance… The fairy queen’s words danced through my head and I swore. “They’ve met before.” Shoving a roll in my pocket, I started toward the door.

“Cécile–”

I stopped without turning around. “No, Marc. I know you’re trying to protect him, but if he’s keeping things from us then he doesn’t deserve it. We’re at war, and there’s no place for us keeping secrets from each other. Not for Tristan. Not for any of us.”

I left the room and he didn’t try to stop me.

Chapter Eleven

Cécile

I climbed the stairs of the other tower, wrapping my cloak around me before I shoved open the heavy oak door. The chill made my arm ache in memory of Winter’s touch, but I shoved aside the pain as I scanned the darkness for Tristan.

He stood in the shadows, elbows resting on the weatherworn parapet. Though he knew I was there, he didn’t turn and, after a moment, I went to stand next to him. Casting my eyes out over the city, I noticed the light of the dome was gone, its presence apparent only through the slight distortion in the air. The blizzard had ceased, but the cloud cover had thickened, blocking out all light from the stars and moon. The Isle should have been pitch black in the hour before dawn.

But it wasn’t.

In the distance rose an orange glow. Fire, fierce and bright, and not just burning in one location. It burned in many. And even as I watched, a massive gout of silvery troll fire exploded into the night sky, rising higher and higher before fading into the colors of natural flames. “Roland,” I whispered. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Tristan’s voice was barely audible over the wind.

“Can you tell where he is?”