“I’ll stop searching this moment unless you let me see him,” I said, raising my chin in defiance. This might be my only chance, and I wouldn’t give it up without a fight.
“I hoped you would be reasonable,” the King said with a sigh. “But very well. Bring him!” he shouted back into the tunnel. Moments later, I could hear boots treading on stone, but also the sound of something heavy being dragged.
Chris gripped my arm. “Be strong. This isn’t going to be easy.”
As if I didn’t know. For months I’d felt Tristan’s agony as he was subjected to punishment at his father’s order. Had watched the silver marks on my knuckles tarnish as his strength was sapped in ways my mind too easily imagined. But none of it prepared me for the sight of him being dragged barefoot and shirtless between armed guards, who flung him at his father’s feet.
A sob tore from my lips as my eyes took in his gaunt frame, filthy and covered with dried blood. Three sets of manacles encircled his arms, manacles designed to hold in place iron spikes skewered through flesh and bone. Fresh blood oozed around the metal, falling in crimson droplets to soak the sand beneath him. The King reached down and pulled the hood off his head. Tristan remained unmoving, slumped against the barrier. A breeze rose off the sea, gusting by me to tug at his grime-caked hair.
Very slowly, he raised his face, eyes focusing on me. “Cécile,” he croaked. “I told you never to come back.”
3
Cécile
Only Chris’s firm grip on my arm prevented me from launching myself through the barrier. “Damn you to hell,” I screamed at the King. “Who does this to his own son? How do you live with yourself?”
How could I live with myself knowing it was my fault Tristan was in this position, and that I’d done nothing about it?
“He’s lucky I suffer him to live,” the King replied evenly. “Tristan is guilty of treason of the highest level. He conspired against his father and his king. He instigated a rebellion that resulted in numerous deaths. He began a duel against me that very nearly cost me my life.”
“You gave him no choice,” I replied, my voice bitter.
The King slowly shook his head. “He always had a choice. He chose you. Now he must suffer the consequences.”
Tristan slowly pushed himself up onto his knees, and I saw with relief that there was still a gleam of spirit in his eyes. He wasn’t broken. At least, not yet. “Cécile, don’t listen to him.” His voice was rough from lack of use. Or screaming. “You need to go now.”
“I’m not leaving you like this,” I said.
Tristan grimaced. “Christophe, take her away from here. Far away. You promised to keep her safe, and this is far from it.”
“He’s right.” Chris tugged on my arms, drawing me back. I struggled against him, digging my heels into the rock and sand, but he was stronger.
“Let me go,” I shouted.
Tristan’s face tightened with concentration that mirrored the resolve I felt through our bond. “You gave me your word, Christophe,” he said. “I expect you to keep it.”
“Damn troll,” Chris muttered. Ignoring my hammering fists, he flipped me over his shoulder and started out to the beach.
“Put me down,” I demanded. I’d abandoned Tristan once, and I wasn’t going to do it again. Clenching my teeth, I called upon the power of the earth, drawing it deep within me. “Stop.”
The fire of the torch flared and bent away from the wind gusting in off the ocean, the river reversing its direction as the waves surged, flooding up around Chris’s boots. The full moon gave me power enough to match Tristan in this, and I intended to use it.
Chris froze.
“You will not interfere,” I said.
“Christophe!” Tristan shouted. “Take Cécile away from here.”
Chris groaned and clutched his head, dropping me with a splash.
“You’re going to break his mind,” the King said, and when I regained my feet, I saw that he was watching with great interest.
Chris fell to his knees in the water, clutching at the rocks beneath. “Please,” he groaned. “It hurts.”
I relaxed my will, unwilling to let my friend suffer to prove a point. “Tristan, stop what you’re doing to him,” I said. “You’ve no right making decisions for me.”
He glared at me, then gave a short nod. “Stay, then.”
I turned my attention back to the King. “What do you want?”
“I’ve told you,” he replied. “I want your word that you will do everything within your power to find Anushka and deliver her to me. And in exchange, I will allow you and Tristan to be reunited.”
“Cécile, don’t.” Tristan rested a bloody hand against the barrier. “You know what will happen if you break the curse. It won’t just be us you set loose, the others will be free to walk in this world once more.”
“She knows what you’ve told her,” the King said, looking down at his son as though no longer quite certain how much Tristan had divulged. “What loyalty does she owe the Regent of Trianon? What has he ever done for her? Is keeping him in power,” he said, turning his attention back to me, “worth the cost?”
Indecision racked me to the core. “He says he can take back the Isle peacefully,” I said, my eyes flicking to the King. “He said he has a plan.”
I felt Tristan’s shock at my words, and he tilted his face up to look upon his father, who nodded. “It is the truth. When my plans are complete, Trianon will be ceded without violence against the citizens of the Isle.”
Long moments passed, and then Tristan dropped his head. “It’s a trick. Don’t believe him.”
“But, Tristan!” I desperately wanted the King’s words to be true—desperately wanted there to be an easy solution to this hopeless situation.
“Please,” Tristan pleaded. “Don’t promise him anything. If you do, he’ll own your will. Walk away from here and never come back.”
I trembled, my mind racing through all of the possible options. Tristan couldn’t see the future, he didn’t know for certain that history would repeat itself. Was it not possible that the King really meant what he said?
“I’m begging you, Cécile,” Tristan said, his voice shaking. “If you love me, you won’t give him what he wants.”
My eyes stung. “If I refuse,” I said to the King. “What then?”
His face hardened. “Are you certain you want to know?”
“Yes.” I had to tear the word from my throat, which was tight with terror.
“As you wish.” An invisible hand of magic slammed Tristan against the barrier, making him grimace in pain. I could see him struggling, muscles straining as he tried to free himself. Fresh blood welled up around the spikes through his arms.
“No!” I screamed. “No, no, no. Stop, please don’t hurt him!” I flung myself at the wall caging them in and ran up against magic as hard as rock. The King had erected his own barrier to keep me out. I whimpered as one of the guards revealed a whip studded with iron spikes.