“Don’t you ever shut up?” Talia asked. She centered her crossbow on the troll’s face and pulled the trigger.
The bolt sank into the troll’s hair, then dropped to the ground. The thick troll hair was as good as armor. Brahkop laughed. “Is that goblin toy the best you can do, girl?”
Talia dropped the crossbow and bounded onto the table. Dropping low to avoid the tendrils of Brahkop’s hair, she rolled to the end and grabbed the knife the Duchess had been using to carve her meat. The crystal handle shone as she tossed the knife from one hand to the other, testing its weight. “Small and poorly balanced, but it’s still a fairy blade.” She grabbed a fork in her other hand.
“Armand, they’ve come to take you from the Duchess!” Brahkop shouted.
Armand moved before Danielle could stop him. He crouched and drove his shoulder into her side, knocking her down. With Danielle out of the way, he drew his sword and lunged at Talia.
She sidestepped, jumping down on the opposite side of the table. That brought her within range of Brahkop. The troll’s hair writhed like a hundred silver tentacles, all reaching for Talia.
The knife flashed, and several ropes of hair fell, separating into fine strands that blew across the floor. Talia grinned. “I like this knife.”
Armand climbed onto the table, preparing to leap at Talia from behind.
“Armand, wait,” Danielle said. “I’m carrying our son.”
He turned so fast he stepped in Brahkop’s plate. “My . . . my son?”
“
Our
son. The future king of Lorindar.” She smiled and touched her belly. “Give me your hand. You might be able to feel him kicking.” The baby wasn’t moving at the moment, but she only needed to get close enough for one good kiss.
“How is that possible?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Danielle tilted her head, trying to duplicate Snow’s flirtatious smile. “You weren’t this confused on our wedding night.”
Armand flushed, but before he could respond, a thunderous crash made them both jump. Brahkop had hurled a chair at Talia. Fragments of that chair now littered the floor. Talia darted in, slicing away more of the troll’s hair, but she couldn’t get close enough to hit Brahkop himself.
“Please trust me,” said Danielle. “You searched half the city to find me. My stepsisters tried to deceive you. My stepmother locked me away. But you still found me.”
Armand looked toward the stairs the Duchess had taken, and the longing on his face hurt more than anything Danielle’s stepsisters had ever done to her. But she kept herself calm, even managing a shaky smile. This wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help himself. “You might not remember me, but you’ll know your son.” She reached for him.
“Don’t believe her, Your Highness,” shouted Brahkop. “Their companion is a witch who means to murder Stacia, and the Duchess as well.”
“Liar!” said Danielle, but it was too late. Armand leaped away, raising his sword.
Talia snatched a broken chair leg and hurled it at Brahkop’s face. He blocked, but Talia was already moving. She rolled along the ground, slicing a deep gash in Brahkop’s leg, then scrambled aside before he could reach her.
And then Armand was attacking, and Danielle needed all of her concentration just to stay alive. She scrambled back, drawing her own sword as Armand lunged again. The glass blade rang like a bell as she knocked Armand’s aside.
He thrust again, the tip of his blade ducking easily beneath Danielle’s sword to jab her shoulder.
Pain ripped through her arm. She nearly dropped her sword. Armand hesitated, giving her the chance to back away. Blood darkened her sleeve, and a wave of dizziness made her stumble.
“Relax, Princess,” Talia shouted. “Don’t spill the wine.”
Danielle nodded, trying to recall Talia’s training. Blade raised, shoulders loose. Back straight, as though she was carrying a tray. Keep the knees bent, and—
Armand’s next attack almost tore the sword from her hand. The wood inlaid in the handle grew rough, digging into her palm to help her keep her grip. She barely managed to swing the blade up to block a follow-up that would have slashed her throat.
There was too much to remember. She needed far more training before the movements would become automatic, the way Talia’s were. Danielle staggered back, her parries growing wilder as she tried to keep up with Armand’s attacks. Her own sword was sharper and lighter than any metal blade, but there were limits to what magic could do against a trained swordsman like Armand. Any moment now, he would get past her guard, and she would die upon her own husband’s sword.
“Armand, please,” she begged.
His blade beat hers aside, then sliced a bloody line across her thigh. “I won’t let you hurt her,” he said.
Danielle fell. Curse that flea-bitten mop of a troll, anyway. Brahkop had known precisely how to provoke Armand. She rolled beneath the table, barely avoiding another strike. Armand had always been so protective. Enchanted or not, he was still the same Armand, determined to defend those he loved.
He’s still Armand
. Danielle dropped her sword. Fear made her tremble as she crawled out, her hands raised.
“Danielle!” Talia spun and raised her knife, ready to throw.
“Talia, don’t!” Danielle shouted. Talia didn’t understand. She was going to kill Armand to save her.
Talia hesitated, and in that instant, Brahkop caught her. Ropes of hair snapped around her arm, and Danielle heard bone snap. Brahkop flung Talia across the room.
Danielle wrenched her attention back to Armand. “I yield,” she said, kneeling. “You win.”
Armand didn’t speak.
“I know you,” whispered Danielle. She held her injured arm, trying to slow the blood. “I’m unarmed. Helpless. You won’t kill me.” She raised her chin. “I love you.”
“I almost believe you when you say that.” Armand grabbed Danielle’s good arm and hauled her to her feet.
“Forgive me,” whispered Danielle. She whimpered as she shifted her weight onto her wounded leg, then smashed her knee into Armand’s groin. His sword clattered to the ground as he doubled over. Danielle grabbed the back of his robe and pulled him forward. Armand’s forehead struck the floor, and he collapsed, moaning.
Pain flared in her arm as she struggled to roll him over. Blood dripped down to her elbow, but she didn’t stop until he lay flat on his back. Sweat and tears stung her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, straddling the prince. Before he could react, she leaned down and kissed him on the lips.
She wasn’t sure what to expect. She imagined a rainbow of light bathing them both as the spell dissolved, and the sudden passion of Armand’s return embrace. Or a newfound clarity in his eyes as her kiss drove the clouds from his mind.
Armand passed out.
“I almost think I should feel insulted.” Danielle crawled away to retrieve her sword.
On the other side of the room, Talia had retreated halfway up the stairs. She had tucked the knife through her belt and held the Duchess’ fork in her left hand. Her right arm hung limp at her side. Danielle could see bloody stripes where the troll’s attack had torn the skin.
Brahkop pursued, his hair lashing over the railing to rip her apart.
Talia twisted to one side, then slammed the fork down, pinning a lock of hair to the railing. She raced down the stairs.
She was almost fast enough. She would have been if not for the dark smear of troll blood at the base of the steps. Her foot slipped out from beneath her.
Brahkop’s hand shot out, but his hair was still pinned, yanking him back before he could reach. His hair reared back to strike.
Quick as a cat, Talia drew her knife and threw. Danielle saw only a streak of silver, and then the ornately carved ivory hilt was protruding from Brahkop’s throat.
The troll stumbled back, falling against the railing. He reached for the knife.
“Bad idea,” said Talia.
Brahkop ripped the knife free. Before, blood had only trickled from the wound. But without the blade to staunch the flow, blood poured forth, darkening Brahkop’s hair and dripping to the floor.
He struggled to speak. The gurgling sound was almost unintelligible. Almost.
Danielle averted her eyes as Brahkop whispered Stacia’s name. And then his head slumped, and he was gone.
CHAPTER 15
T
HE SILENCE THAT FOLLOWED Brahkop’s death was, in many ways, more frightening than the previous clamor of battle. Danielle clutched her sword, peering up both staircases for any sign of the Duchess or her darkling servant.
Talia grabbed a round napkin of lace-rimmed satin from the table and pressed it to the wound in Danielle’s arm. She worked one-handed, keeping her broken arm close to her body. “Hold this, and press hard. Is the prince—”
“He’s alive,” said Danielle. Their voices sounded so loud. She could hear nothing beyond the walls. Had Snow finished her battle with Stacia?
“Good.” Talia used a second napkin to knot the first into place, then peered down at Armand. “How did you manage that?”
Danielle touched Armand’s cheek. Blood matted his hair where his forehead had struck the floor, but his breathing was steady. His face was warm and still flushed from their fight.
“He passed out when I broke the spell,” Danielle said, dodging the real question. She didn’t think Armand would appreciate others knowing exactly how his wife had beaten him. “Do you know how to get out of here? We have to find Snow.”
“Not yet.” Talia checked Danielle’s leg. “As soon as we get back, I’m teaching you to parry.” More napkins soon covered Danielle’s thigh. “Can you walk?”
“I think so.”
Talia turned around. “No doors. You check that staircase. I’ll check this one.” She paused briefly by the table.
Danielle frowned when she saw what Talia was doing. “Tell me you’re not stealing the Duchess’ dinnerware.”
Talia pointed to Brahkop. “We don’t all have enchanted swords, Princess. I take what weapons I can get.”
“You took the spoons, too.”
Talia shrugged. “Old habits.” She headed for the stairs.
Danielle did the same on the other side. As she reached the railing, a choked gasp made her whirl. Stacia stood beside Brahkop’s body.
Danielle moved first, but Talia was faster, throwing one of her stolen knives at Stacia’s head. An unseen force slapped the knife aside, sending it clattering to the ground.
Stacia barely noticed. All of her attention was on Brahkop. She reached for the troll, but her hand stopped before touching his face. She seemed frozen.
The battle outside the tower had taken its toll on Stacia. Her gown was torn, much of it burned away. Both sleeves were gone, and the skin of her right arm was red and blistered. A series of old scabs and scars marked her left arm where she had drawn blood for various spells. The most recent appeared red and inflamed. The poison on Stacia’s knife might not have killed her, but it was clearly having an effect.
No matter how bad she looked, she was still alive. Danielle tried not to think about what that meant.
“Where is Snow?” Talia jumped over the railing and drew another knife.
Stacia didn’t seem to hear. She wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry, Brahkop,” she whispered. “I heard your call. I tried to come. . . .” She shuddered. “But Rose wouldn’t let me. She wanted me to keep fighting. I came as soon as I regained control.”
For a moment, Danielle felt pity. Stacia’s grief transformed her from a murderous witch to a young child, ignored by her own mother, degraded by her beautiful sister, taking out her pain on the only person in the world lower than herself: Danielle.
Stacia brushed her sweaty hair back and turned to Danielle. Tear streaks marked the soot and blood on her face. “I loved him.”
“I know.” Danielle tilted her head toward Armand. “And I love him. Stacia, tell me what happened to Snow.”
Stacia shook her head. “We were able to take control of one of her dwarves and turn it against your witch friend. It threw her down into the lake. She might have survived, I don’t know. It was only when she fell that Rose’s anger broke enough for me to answer Brahkop’s call.”
Talia threw her second knife. The spinning blade slowed as it neared Stacia, stopping to hover in front of her chest. A flick of Stacia’s fingers sent the knife spinning back toward Talia, faster than Danielle’s eyes could follow.
Talia was just as fast. Her hand swept up, and with a muffled clink, the knife flew to one side. Talia adjusted her grip on the purloined spoon she had used to block the knife. She shot a grim smile toward Danielle as she switched the spoon for her whip. “See?”
“So you found someone to restore your fairy gifts,” said Stacia. “That must be how you killed my husband.”
“Stacia, please don’t do this.” Danielle moved to the side, trying to put Stacia between herself and Talia. Before Danielle had taken more than a few steps, Stacia snapped her fingers.