Danielle L. Jensen's Reader Group discussion

So as I mentioned in the fun facts, STOLEN SONGBIRD originally ended with Chapter 37, but that was deemed too much of a cliffhanger. What I DIDN’T mention was that I actually wrote TWO more chapters to give the ending somewhat more resolution. That last Tristan chapter ended up being deleted, then resuscitated as the first chapter of HIDDEN HUNTRESS, and then deleted again. Here it is for your reading pleasure.

[Note: As this chapter didn’t make it into the books, there are some small inconsistencies between it and the direction Hidden Huntress/Warrior Witch ended up taking. For example, in the novels, the King did not execute all of the half-blood revolutionaries.]

Chapter 39
I stared at my manacled wrists with a detached sort of interest. The iron bracelets would have itched abominably on their own, but these restraints were designed for trolls, not humans, and as such, they had the added luxury of metal spikes skewered through my wrists. Blood caked my hands and arms, some of it old, black and crusted, and some of it fresh, its crimson brilliance visible even in the dim light. Skin tried to build and reform around the spikes, but the poison metal would allow no such thing, raining droplets of blood on the already damp stones beneath me. It was, I thought, going to leave a rather dreadful scar.

The pain was excruciating, like tongues of fire licking up my arms. Burning, burning, for four days now. It would have been enough to separate a lesser troll from his magic, but I was not a lesser troll. Which was why three guards sat outside my cell, their magic focused on blocking me from mine. It still wouldn’t have been enough; if she had died, no power on this earth would have stopped me from taking my vengeance on those who were to blame. My father. Angoulême. Myself.

Almost as though they had a power of their own, my eyes flickered down to examine the bonding marks tracing the fingers of my left hand. Black. My heart lurched, terror shoving pain and logic aside. “No, no, no!” I frantically rubbed away the blood, stabs of pain knifing through my arms from the movement. Gold shone through the smears of red and black blood and I sighed deeply, trying to control my ragged breathing.

Cécile. I closed my eyes, the ache of our separation far worse than the sting of iron. She was so faint in my mind now, physical distance and the witch’s magic numbing our bond so that there were times I was certain I’d lost her entirely. She was angry, probably with me, but I’d take that over the terror of the delirium-filled dreams that had plagued her for what seemed an eternity after I’d taken her to the barrier.

“Get up.”

I raised my head and appraised the troll standing at the gate. “Get up, my lord,” I corrected, keeping my voice mild.

The troll, who I recognized now as one of Angoulême’s peons, spat into the corner of my cell and jerked the door open. “His Majesty wants to speak with you.”

“Now?” I glanced down at my filthy clothing. “I’m hardly at my best.”

The guard ignored me. Unlocking my manacles from the wall, he jerked me to my feet, the iron spikes tearing at the bones in my wrist. I bit back the scream that rose to my lips – those days were over. There would be no more shows of weakness, not anymore.

***

My escort took me not to the throne room, as I had expected, but to my father’s private chambers. Tension crawled down my spine with icy fingers – my father preferred to do his dirty work out of the public eye. Did he intend to kill me himself, or was this only to be a private conversation? The side door opened, and my father came into the room.

“Leave us.” He gestured at the guards, who reluctantly dropped my chains to the floor and left the room.

My father looked old; his face was tired, drawn, and sweat dribbled down his jowls. Aunt Sylvie told me once that I looked like my father when he was young, but I couldn’t see it.

“She lives.”

It was a statement of fact, but I answered it as though he posed the question. “Yes. She could have been living down here, if you’d let me get her help. But...” I shrugged. “You didn’t leave me much choice.”

“And why do you suppose that is?”

He was too calm; these were no idle questions. “You hated Cécile for failing to break the curse, and you wanted to see her die.”

“I didn’t hate Cécile, Tristan, nor was her death my ultimate purpose.” The smile on his face did not reach his eyes. “A human girl is not worthy of such a profound emotion as hate.”

“Then why did you try to kill her when you thought I was dead?”

“Because with you gone, she was useless. Her life was worthless.”

I thought I saw a faint flicker of emotion in his eyes, a slight furrowing in his brow. “But you still threatened her life after you knew I was still alive.”

“Did I?” My father settled himself on a chair, motioning for me to sit across from him. My chains rattled against the ground as I moved, jerking painfully against my wrists. Part of me wanted to perch on the edge of the chair to keep from getting it filthy, but that was what he was expecting. He wanted me chained, filthy, and weak; so instead, I sprawled backwards, resting my bloody arms against the velvet upholstery. By all accounts, he’d been overwrought with grief over my death, but apparently that was only a cover for his machinations. “You wanted me to believe you’d kill her eventually, regardless of what happened to me.” I clapped my hands together, splattering blood over the carpet. “Quick thinking, all things considered.”

“Merely a reversion to my original plans.”

“Which were?”

He shook his head. “If you aren’t clever enough to figure them out for yourself, then you don’t deserve to know.”

Cécile’s ball of light floated over and landed on my knee. It had been following me about ever since she left, but I had no control over the magic anymore. “You created a circumstance that would force me to show where my loyalties lay if her life was in danger,” I said, ignoring the sweat that trickled down my back. He’d been playing me the entire time.

“Which you did, although I must admit, it all happened far quicker than I anticipated. One moment the girl was fine, and the next, well.” A crystal decanter rose from the sideboard, invisible hands carefully filling two glasses, which floated over to settle on the table in front of us. “Did you think I didn’t know what you were up to, boy?”

“If you knew, why didn’t you stop me?”

“Because instigating violence creates ill will with the people,” he said, sipping the wine. “It was better that I provoke you into action before you were ready and capable of defeating me. You started the battle; you attacked your own father.” He drained the rest of his glass. “Now they all see you not only as a traitor, but as a loser. It also gave me an excuse to round up all your revolutionaries, your half-bloods, and remove their heads.”

Bile burned up my throat, but I tried to keep my hands steady as I reached for my wine to wash it down. Dead. All because I hadn’t had the courage to kill him when he lay helpless at my feet. Wine slopped over the rim of the cup.

“You’re making quite the mess.” His lip curled back with disgust.

“You may have to clean it up yourself,” I said. “It seems your servants no longer have heads.”

He roared with laughter while I stared at my boots. How had everything gone so dreadfully, dreadfully wrong? “You don’t really expect me to believe you’d been planning all of this from the beginning?” I asked.

“I’ve been looking for a way to force you to play your hand for some time,” my father said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “At first Cécile was only a tool for breaking the curse, but when bonding you to her failed to achieve our freedom, I saw that she could be used for another purpose.”

“Bravo,” I said. “It seems everything has gone according to your plan. Now what do you intend to do?”

My father bent his great bulk forward and met my gaze. I barely suppressed the shudder his icy silver eyes induced in me. “If she’s served her purpose, there isn’t much point in keeping her alive, now is there?”

I had been waiting for this threat – for him to state his intention to send assassins after Cécile. “If she dies, I’ll tear away the tree and let Forsaken Mountain finish its work. Most of the magic is mine – it will come when I call.”

He didn’t even blink. “You’d kill your friends and family for the girl? Eliminate what’s left of your race because of a human?”

“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate.

“You really love her, don’t you?” His eyes searched mine. “You’d do anything for her. Sacrifice countless lives and sell your soul to the proverbial devil to save her, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes!” I shouted. “Haven’t I done so already?”

“You have indeed,” he agreed. “The question is, will she do the same for you? Will she risk countless lives, the lives of her friends and family to save you? Does she love you enough to do all of that?”

I froze.

“To break the curse, the witch must die,” my father said softly. “The foretelling did not say the act of binding would kill her, it said bound as one the witch they’ll slay. The witch is outside.” He gestured with one hand. “Cécile is outside.”

“No,” I croaked, my throat tight. “She knows what will happen if the curse is broken. She’ll never do it.”

“Not even to save your life?” He leaned back in his chair. “Are you sure?”

I wasn’t sure. This was my unpredictable, fiery-tempered Cécile, who’d already risked her life for mine. There was a very good chance she’d act without thinking and suffer the consequences later. “What makes you so sure she’ll succeed where hundreds of others have failed?”

“Because,” my father said, “the girl has both magic and motivation. I think she’ll find a way.”

My wrists burned, but ice ran through my veins at his words, because in my heart, I knew he was right.

Oh, that was chilling! And since it does include the half-bloods dying, then I'm kinda glad that it wasn't included! So great, and I can't wait for more!

Thibault ALWAYS a step ahead in the game. This troll is truly something else!

I really love this whole interaction between them. I'm glad you're sharing all these!

I don't think I can ever have enough of this world and these characters. They are my favorite!

Wow just wow!! I've always wondered about Tristan's imprisonment from his POV. Absolutely love this!!!

I've wondered about this, why did the ball of light seem to have a mind of its own? Will we find out more as to why in Warrior Witch?

Al wrote: "I've wondered about this, why did the ball of light seem to have a mind of its own? Will we find out more as to why in Warrior Witch?"

The ball of light was the one Tristan gave to Cecile in the labyrinth when he thought he was going to die from the sluag attack, and it serves its purpose at the end of Hidden Huntress, so you won't see any reference to it in Warrior Witch :)

My god, I loved it. It answers so many questions I had about what happened in between the two books! The king's always got to be 3 steps ahead of everyone. I'm pretty sure he already suspects why Cecile could open the book.

Amazing! That's why I can't hate the king. He's so clever and intimidating that it makes him quite charismatic in a way!