“What do you want from us?” I snapped at Aiden, struggling with the desire to have my own revenge for what he had done to me, for what he had intended to do to my friends.
“Tell me why you killed her,” he demanded. “You could have taken the book back and gone. Catherine was only a pawn – she didn’t need to die.”
I frowned, more surprised at his sentiment toward the dead woman than his accusation that we were her murderers. It had seemed to me that he’d despised her – had only allied with her out of sheer necessity. But perhaps I’d been wrong. “I thought you hated her.”
He leveled me with a dark stare. “I needed her.”
Of course.
“We didn’t kill her,” I said, not bothering to hide my disgust. “When we arrived, her shop was in flames. Tristan got her out, but it was too late.”
Fred’s shoulders slumped with obvious relief. “Thank God,” he muttered.
Hurt sliced through me. “You didn’t honestly believe I’d murdered a woman in cold blood?”
“Some people will do just about anything for the sake of revenge,” he replied, staring at the ground. “And I’m not even going to guess at what he’s capable of.” Fred lifted his head to glare at Tristan.
“If I was so quick to kill, let me assure you, His Lordship” – Tristan coated the word with mockery – “would have been the first to go.”
“Then by all means, get it over with,” Aiden snapped. “Quit this pretense at being human, troll, and show your true colors.”
Tristan’s disguise melted away, and in two strides he was in Aiden’s face. “I gave you a chance to do a small good – to help Cécile – but instead you thought only of yourself and pursued a plan as evil as any of my father’s. If you had saved her, I would have done what I could to help you, and our future might look very different. But now all you are is my enemy, and you will come to regret that fact.”
Fred shifted, and I turned to give him a warning look only to find his brow furrowed and his gaze fixed on Aiden. The Regent’s son had not, I suspected, told him the whole of the truth, and my brother would not take well to having been manipulated.
“The only regret I have is that my plan failed, because I lost my chance to see a future unencumbered by your father and the rest of your wretched race of creatures,” Aiden snarled. “I swear that I’ll never stop until I find a way to see every last one of you on your knees, starving, dying, and begging for the mercy of humanity. But let me assure you, troll, I will show you none.”
Tristan’s temper snapped, and in a motion almost too fast to see, he lifted Aiden off his feet by the throat and slammed him into the wall. Fred swore and tried to reach for his pistol, but the effects of my compulsion remained and he settled for his sword. I opened my mouth to stop him, but before I could speak, the blade tore from his grip, spinning in a silver blur across the theatre to embed itself in the box across from us. Fred lunged toward the two, but magic caught him, pinning him to the ground.
I stood still, and though everything had happened within seconds, time seemed to slow as I watched Aiden’s face darken, the dagger he’d managed to pull from his belt banging ineffectually against magic, his free hand clawing against Tristan’s fingers. A cruel and vengeful part of my soul wanted to stand back and let him die. This man who was servant to the King I despised. Who had kidnapped me and tried to use me against those I loved. Who had threatened to kill an entire race of people because of the hatred he had for one troll. What mercy did he deserve?
But what sort of person was I if I did not give it? Even through his fury, I could feel Tristan’s hesitation. I knew how strong he was – that he could’ve snapped Aiden’s neck with one hand or worse. Yet instead he let death creep slowly toward the other man, not because he was cruel, but because he wasn’t a killer. That he was merciful by nature was what made him different from his father, from Angoulême, from Roland; and for us to have any hope of