Stolen Songbird: Malediction Trilogy Book One (The Malediction Trilogy) by Danielle L. Jensen

tapestries and paintings covered the walls and thick carpets muffled my footsteps. In the center stood a giant copper bathtub filled with water and next to it was a small dining table set with a feast fit for a queen. It made me think of the dinner I had missed tonight – the one my grandmother had been preparing for my going away party. My father would have set up a pig turning on a spit over the open flames, and I could imagine our dogs watching with wistful eyes, begging whoever walked near for scraps. Gran would have made some potato mash, along with last year’s carrots and beets drenched with butter. And her famous apple cinnamon cake. Cake that couldn’t be made without eggs. I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering the way the yellow yolks had mixed into the mud. I had gone away, but there would have been no cake, no dinner, no party. Only a fruitless search in the growing dark.
    “Quit being a sentimental fool,” I muttered to myself. “It’s just food.” The three trolls look at me askance, and I gave them a weak smile. “That’s quite the spread.”
    “Have as much as you like,” Marc said. “If there is anything in particular you want, let the girls know and they will arrange for it.” He then turned to the servants. “You have three hours.”
    “Yes, my lord,” the girls responded in unison, curtsying again as he strode from the room.
    “You must be hungry, my lady,” one of them said.
    “Mostly, I have to pee.”
    The girls giggled and pointed to a side door. “Over there, my lady.”
    After I had rid myself of a few gold coins’ worth of extra weight, I came back and surveyed my options: bath or food. My growling stomach decided for me. I set into a bowl of thick stew as if I hadn’t seen food all day, which I hadn’t, and then gobbled down handfuls of berries and an apple, their juices running down my chin to add stains to my already destroyed shift. The girls watched me with wide eyes. “What are your names?” I asked between bites.
    Both of them jerked as though slapped. I stopped chewing, and watched them exchange meaningful glances. “I don’t think that is what she means,” one whispered to the other.
    “I’m called Élise,” the elder said to me after an uncomfortable pause. “Call her Zoé.”
    “Cécile,” I said around a mouthful of bread, deciding to ignore the awkwardness. I was acting like I’d never met a manner in my life, but stones and sky, I was hungry.
    “We know, my lady. We’ve been expecting you.”
    The bread stuck in my throat, and I set aside the rest of the loaf, my hunger vanished. “I’m not anyone’s lady. I’m just Cécile.”
    “You are betrothed to Prince Tristan, my lady. After tonight, you will be a princess of Trollus,” Zoé said, her wide eyes growing even wider. “You are so fortunate, my lady – His Highness is exceptionally handsome.”
    “And brave,” Élise chimed in. The girls clutched each other’s arms and pretended to swoon.
    “And dreadfully rude,” I grumbled, getting to my feet and walking over to the tub. I’d never bathed in front of anyone other than my gran or my sister before, but I knew that this was how the nobility did things. Making a fuss over their presence would only draw attention to my common upbringing. Pride was armor, and I wouldn’t let them take it from me. My scant clothing discarded, I climbed hurriedly in, wincing as my collection of abrasions stung.
    “Is the water warm enough, my lady?” Élise asked, passing me a sponge.
    “It’s…” I glanced towards the cold fireplace on the one wall. Clearly the grate hadn’t known a fire in a long time. After a moment’s contemplation, I realized I hadn’t seen an open flame since Luc’s lantern. “I’d like it a bit warmer,” I said, curious as to how she’d manage such a feat.
    The troll set aside the bottle of bath salts she had been pouring in and touched the water with a fingertip. It swirled around me, glowing faintly silver, and