they were warm from the glow of banked fires and lit with lamps of green and gold glass. Pulling my cloak off, I draped it over the back of a chair to dry. Tristan strode across the room, the fire flaring up with magic as he approached. With vicious jerks, he removed the gloves from his hands and threw them into the flames. His coat and shirt followed suit, then he dropped to his knees to watch it burn, the smell of the smoke acrid and horrible.
“How will I tell Élise and Zoé that I killed their aunt? After all the other hurt I’ve caused them, and now this?”
He was a dark silhouette against the orange glow of the fire. I stayed where I was, afraid to speak and afraid to stay silent. “Tristan, I was there when Esmeralda made her bargain with Reagan. She did it so that she could talk to me.” I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering the moment. “She wanted to tell me about the injustices the half-bloods faced because she believed I was in a position to help them. At the time I was too concerned with myself to appreciate the risk she was taking, but I did not fail to notice how much she cared for her nieces. Helping them was what she cared for most – what she’d dedicated her life to. And you gave her a chance to do that.”
“She helped me more than I ever helped her,” he replied. “And I repaid that debt by killing her.”
“You may have struck the blow, but it was our enemies – yours, mine, and hers – who killed her,” I said, clenching the damp fabric of my skirt. “Reagan may have held the debt, but we both know she was acting under orders. He could have sent anyone after me – there are men and women aplenty who would kill for the promise of gold. Esmeralda was chosen, forced to do this against her will, because she was our ally. She was sent to kill me because even if she failed, the action would still land a very painful blow.”
“My father didn’t do this,” Tristan said softly. “He wouldn’t send someone to kill you.”
I peeled the black lace gloves off my hands, letting them fall to the floor. With one finger, I traced the silver marks painted across my fingers. “I know.” I swallowed hard. “I will never claim to understand your father or to support his methods, but I know with certainty that he wants you to succeed him. This was Angoulême’s doing.”
“Yes.” There was a faint shake to Tristan’s voice. “And that he was willing to make such a bold move makes me very afraid of what is happening in my home.”
A home he felt powerless to protect. The weight of his guilt made my shoulders sag – not only for Esmeralda’s death, but also for having left his friends, his family, his entire people to fend against the worst. Picking my way around the furniture, I made my way toward him.
“Cécile, there’s something I have to tell you.” The words came out in a rush and I froze.
“I didn’t have to kill her.” His voice was ragged. “I could have stopped her just as easily as I stopped that bullet.”
The thought had occurred to me, but I refused to make him feel worse by saying so. “You had only seconds to act before she fired her pistol. You were only trying to save my life.”
The only sound was the crackle of the fire, his lack of response making my stomach clench as I realized this confession was not over. “Tristan?”
“I had time enough to think.” He turned his head, revealing his profile and the motion of his throat as he swallowed. “I had a barrier in place to keep you safe the moment I saw the pistol. But…” The muscles in his shoulders tensed. “I thought it was her.”
Shock stole all speech from my throat. There was only one her.
“I could tell it was a woman,” he continued. “I knew what I was doing when I struck. I was trying to kill Anushka.”
I felt as though time had stopped and I had stepped away from my body. Like I was watching a girl who was not me listen to words she had not expected to hear. After everything he had said and done to keep from breaking the trolls free, faced with the chance to end it all, he’d taken it.