Thread of Ash and Fire

Ch. 47: A Simple Riddle

"Please, Tristan," Owain said, and his voice was hoarse. "I'm on your side. You have to believe me."

Tristan tugged on the trousers. "It doesn't matter now."

He turned for the door. Owain dogged his steps. "Where are you going?"

"Talulla's called a meeting," Tristan said, reaching for the door handle. "Everyone's meant to attend."

"You're angry," Owain said.

Tristan wished he had the balls to sarcastically applaud. Really excellent detective work. Top grade stuff. He couldn't get the image out of his head. Owain and Halson, sipping champagne on the croquet lawn, handsome and hard as a pair of glittering diamond earrings. His grip on the doorknob tightened.

Owain's hand shot out to block Tristan's exit. "I should have told you about Halson earlier."

Tristan crossed his arms. "Correct."

"But what was I meant to say?"

"I don't know," Tristan said, exasperated. "I just feel like it's common courtesy to mention that you have an evil ex-boyfriend. Just like, hey, by the way, my ex-boyfriend commits mass murder once a week and is kind of crazy. That sort of thing."

"I thought..." Owain's gaze fell to the floor. His copper lashes shadowed his cheek, and Tristan's heart lurched. If only Owain wasn't so godsdamn handsome, he thought bitterly; then they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. "I didn't want you to judge me."

"Well, I am," Tristan said shortly. "Judging you. The fact that you once loved someone like that..." He could hardly get the words out. "What does that say about you?"

Owain exhaled. "He wasn't always like that."

Tristan's stomach knotted. He wished the words didn't affect him. Wished that he didn't feel a sting of jealousy, even now. And yet... "I've heard enough." His voice was gruff. "Out of my way. Please."

Owain hesitated.

For just a moment, Tristan wished he would stay motionless. That Owain would ask him to stay. But this was Owain; it had been soul-shattering for him to get on his knees and beg his father to allow him back to court. He wouldn't risk his pride twice.

So Owain stepped aside. And Tristan passed through.

**

The court room was filled with chatter.

Golden cages swung from the ceiling, carrying monkeys and songbirds and slit-eyed snakes. Courtiers in their human form — and there were only a handful, no more than twenty — lounged on settees, half-drunk on dream somnium and sherry wine. Mirrors lined the walls, making everything seem doubled and strange.

Talulla sat in a throne on a raised dais. The princess was dressed in a frilly white gown today, her crown a riot of glittering stars and pink jewels, and she was sucking on a lollipop. Several of her ladies-in-waiting sported fresh bandages on their hands. From another game of knives, no doubt.

One woman was absent altogether.

Not everyone, Tristan observed, his stomach clenching, survived Talulla's games.

Talulla clapped her hands. "Tristan Beauchamp." The court room quieted. Tristan was painfully aware of everyone turning, their smiles like knives. Talulla beckoned him forward. "We've been expecting you."

Tristan dipped into a short bow. "Your Highness."

She shifted in her seat, a giddy schoolchild. "I've considered your proposition."

"That's very gracious of you."

"And," Talulla said, with an air of great magnanimity, "I would like to offer you a deal." She waved her lollipop. "A fun little game, of my invention. If you win, then I'll give you use of my army for the next three months."

Tristan braced himself. "What are the terms?"

Talulla smiled. "In a moment, I'll ask you a riddle. You'll have ten minutes to answer it. If you answer it correctly, then you win."

Tristan blinked. "A riddle?"

"Yes."

The princess looked at him expectantly. Tristan slid his eyes to Faolan; the wolf shifter stood by the throne, a whip dangling from his hand. He looked very pale, and his eyes were fixed straight ahead. No help there.

"That's all you want me to do?" Tristan asked. "Answer a simple riddle?"

The princess tilted her head. "Were you expecting something else?"

Yes. Strangulation, torture, his liver in a jar... But best, Tristan thought hastily, not to put ideas in Talulla's head. He felt for the explosive in his pocket: a habitual, steadying gesture. "What happens if I lose?"

"Ah," Talulla said, her smile widening. "I'm so glad that you asked." She clapped her hands again. "Bring him forward."

There was the sound of heavy footsteps, followed by the clink of iron. Tristan turned. A group of guards were escorting someone through the hall. A prisoner, presumably. He stretched on his toes, trying to get a better look—

His stomach dropped.

No.

It couldn't be.

"Hello, Owain," Talulla cooed. "A little birdie told me that you spent last night in Tristan's bedroom." She held out an arm, and a magpie settled on her elbow, ruffling its feathers. "Is my darling pet correct?"

"I don't see why it should interest you," Owain said flatly.

He was staring up at the throne, his red hair gleaming like golden licks of flame. He was wearing the same clothes as earlier — walking boots, a green cloak — but he sported a pair of handcuffs now. Tristan tried to catch his eye, but Owain didn't turn.

Talulla's smile sharpened. "Oh, I take a great interest in the romantic happenings at court. It's so delightful! Like a puzzle to be solved." She swung her legs. "And you, Tristan? Do you have any romantic feelings for Owain?"

Tristan swallowed.

Unfortunately. Not that he was about to admit that. It would end with Owain being thrown into a misty bog with hungry, man-eating fish.

"I'm afraid not, Your Majesty," Tristan said.

Owain's jaw tightened. Talulla leaned forward, beckoning Tristan closer like a fellow conspirator. "Can I tell you a secret?" The princess's candy-pink lips ghosted over his ear. "I don't believe you."

Tristan resisted the urge to jerk away. "It's the truth."

"Well," Talulla said, "that should make this much easier for you, then." She leaned back, raising her voice. "Here are the terms of my little game. If you win, you'll have full access to my armory. Soldiers, ships, weapons... Whatever you desire."

Tristan's heart pounded. "And if I lose?"

"Then Owain dies." Talulla clapped her hands. "Shall we play?"