“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.
“I’ll ask you again, Cécile, is it worth the cost?” The King nodded at the guard, and the lash snapped wickedly across Tristan’s shoulders, tearing open his skin. His face twisted, but his eyes locked on mine. “Don’t do it. No matter what he does, agree to nothing.”
The whip fell again. Blood splattered and Tristan clenched his teeth in agony. He won’t kill him, logic told me, but logic was cold comfort in the face of Tristan’s pain.
The King nodded, and the whip fell again. And again. Tristan bore it in near silence at first, but I felt his reaction to every fiery lash. And I felt him break an instant before the first scream tore from his throat. Still the whip fell.
It was too much.
“Stop! I promise. I’ll find her.” My words were garbled, falling over each other, but the King heard. The whip froze mid-lash and Tristan crumpled to the ground. Rivulets of blood trickled down his back, the iron-inflicted wounds refusing to heal.
“Whatever it takes?” the King asked. “And you’ll bring her here? I feel inclined to hear how well the witch crows with her guts removed, although I’d accept her death in any fashion.”