He knows his place, you idiot. Grinding my teeth, I listened to the warning little voice in my head. He knows you can crush him like a fly, but he doesn’t care. All attacking him would do is prove his point.

Tips must have felt the flux of magic, because the condescension fled from his face and he took a half step back. “I don’t suppose it matters much to you, though,” he said. “Cécile’s away from Trollus, and she’s safe. In the end, that’s all you really wanted.”

Inclining his head slightly, he started to back away, the conversation over in his mind. But it wasn’t over in mine. I’d faced my dislike of the mines for reason, even if it was only now coming together in my mind.

“Cécile isn’t anywhere near safe.”

Tips froze, and his crew quit pretending to work, their eyes fixing on me.

A few months ago, bloody stones, maybe even an hour ago, I would have told them only what they needed to know. Only what was necessary to secure their support. But things had changed. I had to change. I was no longer heir to the throne of Trollus. I was no longer the leader of a revolution. I was prince of nothing.

But I had a new weapon, one that I’d never used much before: the truth.

“My father,” I said, “coerced Cécile into making him a promise she is unlikely to be able to fulfill. He’s leaning on her mind, and if I don’t find a way to stop him, he’s going to either kill her or drive her mad.”

Tips winced, but I wasn’t through. With painstaking detail, I explained exactly what had happened at the mouth of the River Road.

Tips’s face was grim by the time I finished. “Maybe she’ll succeed and deliver Anushka,” he said, but the doubt in his voice hung between us. The half-bloods knew as well as anyone how thoroughly the witch had evaded capture.

“Maybe.” My eyes flicked to Marc, but his face was unreadable. “But I can’t count on it.”

Tips leaned on his crutch, his gaze distant and unfocused as he considered everything I’d told him, and I searched his face for any sign of what he might be thinking. “I hate to hear of anything bad happening to the girl,” he finally said. “But I don’t entirely understand what you expect us to do about it.”

I exhaled softly. “Other than catching Anushka, there are only two ways Cécile can be freed of the burden of her promise. The first is that my father no longer desires or cares if she fulfills it, which is something entirely unlikely to occur. The second is…”

“He dies.”

“He dies,” I agreed.

Tips absently rubbed one shoulder, his eyes on the floor. The muscles in his jaw moved beneath his skin, tightening and relaxing as he thought. After a long moment, he looked over his shoulder at his friends. They were silent, but made no effort to hide their apprehension.

Not good.

“I hate your father,” Tips said, the words harsh and clipped. “I hate him to the very depths of whatever soul I have. We all do. But…”

“But…” I pressed, even though I knew what he was going to say.

His shoulders lifted and fell with an apologetic slump. “He’s given us everything we asked for. Better treatment. The plans for the stone tree and the gold to build it.” Tips lifted his face, meeting my gaze with steady eyes. “He’s delivered everything you offered us, everything you failed to give. We’d be mad to side with you against him.” The corner of his mouth turned up and he snorted angrily. “It makes me sick to say it, but it’s the truth.”

I bit the insides of my cheeks. I’d expected this, but that didn’t make me any less angry. Every which way I turned, my father had schemes designed to make me and everyone else dance to his tune. Even this… he’d known I’d see that the structure the half-bloods were building was doomed to fail. He’d known that I’d feel compelled to do something about it. I was walking down a path he’d laid for me with no idea of where I’d end up. Part of me wanted to keep the information between Marc and me until I’d figured out what my father was up to, but that strategy had served me poorly in the recent past.

“He’s given you nothing,” I said. “The plans my father provided are not mine – they are false. Even if he allows you to complete the structure, it won’t hold for more than an instant. Take away the magic, and Forsaken Mountain will finish the destruction it started five hundred years past.”

Tips’s mouth dropped open, and his crew exchanged horrified glances.

The dullness fled from Vincent’s eyes. “That bastard!” he swore, voice loud enough to make dust rain down. “He’s a blasted sly old fox.”

I could think of a few more choice words to describe my father than that, but now wasn’t the time.

“But…” Tips’s mouth moved, forming words, but no sound came out. “They’re detailed,” he finally blurted out. “They’ve got calculations… lists of materials. They’re in your hand!”

I shrugged. “I’ve no doubt he was meticulous in ensuring that the plans he gave you appeared authentic. But I assure you, they are not.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’ve seen them – they replicate the magic structure perfectly.”

“Which is precisely the problem. Stone and steel aren’t strong enough,” I replied, trying to think of a way to explain it to them. Spying a large boulder in a pile of rubble, I gestured for Vincent to retrieve it, then I created a narrow column of magic. “Balance the rock on the column.” He did so, and everyone stared at the combination without comprehension. I sighed. “Now balance it on Tip’s crutch.”