Hidden Huntress - Danielle L. Jensen Page 0,122

be kept in the dark, and he’d use the knowledge to negotiate. His was still the position of power, and both of us knew it.

“It would seem Anushka knows Cécile is hunting her,” I said. “Last night she murdered the witch Catherine and either burned or absconded with the grimoire, which means we’ve lost any method of tracking her.”

My father’s brow furrowed, and he was silent for a moment. “Why, if she knows who Cécile is, has she not tried to kill her?”

Of course he saw right to the heart of the matter. But I had no intention of revealing Cécile’s familial connection to Anushka just yet. Just as I had no intention of revealing that I knew he controlled Aiden du Chastelier.

“The question crossed my mind,” I admitted. “I might have thought it some moral conscience or allegiance to her kind, but she has demonstrated that she’s no qualms against killing other humans. Which means there is a reason she hasn’t made an attempt against Cécile’s life.”

“There is something important about Cécile,” he said. “The foretelling led us to her, and everything she’s done has demonstrated its accuracy. This is only more proof that there is something about her that is significant, something we don’t know.”

“Something that Anushka does.”

“So it would seem.” He slipped a finger into his pocket and extracted a gold coin, flipping it back and forth across his fingers as he thought. “You have a plan?”

“Of a sort.” I watched the gold flick across his knuckles. “Cécile has explained that the curse is nothing more than an act of Anushka’s will made physical by magic. Its very existence is predicated upon her desire to keep us contained. Her hate.” I tore my gaze away from the gold. “I can only imagine how infuriating it will be for her to discover a troll has broken free of her will. And not just any troll.” I squared my shoulders. “The descendant of the one who provoked her hate in the first place.”

Which was part of my plan, if not all of it.

The gold coin stopped moving. “You intend to use yourself as bait?”

I nodded. “She’ll feel compelled to move against me. I’m certain of it.”

He went very still. Nothing showed in his expression, but that lack of motion betrayed his unease with my proposition. “If you announce what you are to the world, you’ll put the rest of us at risk. We are yet vulnerable.”

“Which is why I have no intention of revealing what I am, only who,” I said. “I’ll infiltrate their aristocracy – we know she walks among them – and then I’ll parade around in front of her until she’s driven to act, and in doing so, will reveal herself.”

“Risky,” my father muttered. “For one, she might actually kill you, and two, you’re dependent on a woman who hasn’t made a mistake in five hundred years doing just that.”

“Do you have a better idea?” I asked.

He sighed. “I assume you’ll be needing some gold.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

CÉCILE

Standing on a low podium in only a thin silk shift, I watched in the looking glass as the dressmaker deftly wrapped a tape measure around my waist. Her fingers brushed against the thick scar on my ribs, and I flinched as her hands twitched away from the unexpected flaw on my body. “You’re thinner,” she said to hide her reaction. “All the gowns will need alterations and the busts will require padding.” She wrapped the tape measure around my breasts again, glanced at the measurement, and sighed as her original assessment was confirmed.

Against my will, my cheeks warmed. Her assistant smiled pertly at me, but I kept my chin up and met her eyes. “I’ll have another one of those cakes, please.” To the dressmaker I said, “You needn’t go overboard – I’ve been unwell, but I’m sure I’ll be back to my usual self shortly.” Sadly, my usual self would still require the padding.

It was true that I was feeling better. The King’s compulsion was still with me, but it no longer felt desperate, no longer consumed me. While I’d be a fool to say we were back in control, our circumstances no longer felt so dire. With Tristan free, Lord Aiden was no longer a threat, and we had a plan, albeit an uncertain one.

Tristan would have stayed up all night plotting, but I’d insisted he rest. He’d not complained about his injuries, but there was no mistaking how much they troubled him. I wanted to offer to try

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