I took heed of her warning and set the platter down on the table, which was scattered with chicken bones, all split and sucked dry. I felt her presence trailing me like a shadow.
“And what is this?” she asked.
“A gift from the countess,” I replied.
“Ah, my old beloved enemy,” said the troll, bending her head close to the hen. She sniffed it, her nose scrunching in distaste.
“It’s poisoned,” I said.
“Any fool could smell it and come to that conclusion,” Mazarine said, straightening. “Why does she poison me?”
“She wants to use you to strike at the duke, who I suppose I should begin calling the master of coin.”
“Ah, I see. Her ambition never ceases to amaze me.” She studied me closer, one eye smaller than the other. “And you are involved with the heiress?”
“For now.”
“You have surprised and delighted me, mortal girl.”
“How so?”
“You have used your guise to the greatest advantage. You find yourself in a dangerous game to secure a new sovereign, and yet you move effortlessly. Tell me, does your stone heart still hold true, unmovable as this mountain?”
“I’ve guarded it well,” I carefully replied, but I could still taste Phelan’s lips on mine. I still saw him on his knees before me, captivated. I still heard the way he said my name.
“Time will tell, won’t it?” Mazarine said, as if she sensed the cracks in me.
“May I ask you a question?”
“Perhaps.”
I took that as a yes. I held her beady gaze and asked, “Can I trust the duke? The master of coin?”
“Hmm.” She drummed her fingers on the table, her long nails clicking on the wood. “Can you trust him, you ask. He often says one thing and does another in secret. Who do you think spread rumors of how great the cruel duke was a century ago? And yet who bribed the guard at the duke’s door the night of the assassination? The master of coin. But who promised the master of coin an endless cave of jewels and gold once she reigned? The heiress, who you call countess.”
Her answer did nothing to bolster my reassurance. The duke might be playing me, or he could be genuine, eager to see the countess’s ultimate plans dashed.
“Does that answer your query, mortal girl?”
“Yes.”
“But there is another question in your eyes. Speak it, Clementine of Hereswith. I will answer with truth.”
It was so cold in this room I could see my breath, and the snow was swirling, gathering in my hair. And yet I had never felt more alive than at that moment.
“Will you support Phelan if he takes the throne?”
She must have been expecting this question, because she answered it smoothly. “I support you.”
“But I’m not a worthy contender.”
“You are a daughter of the mountain, even beneath the veil of my magic.” Mazarine began to walk a circle around me. “You have crept into my stone of a heart and softened me, to my immense dismay and utter astonishment. I would support your claim without fail, but if you forgo it yourself, I would support your choice of sovereign.”
She rendered me speechless.
And it pleased her. She came to a halt before me, studying my face. “I always knew you would help guide us home.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I used to watch the world spin from my third-story windows in Hereswith,” Mazarine began. “Time does not feel the same to me as it does to you; minutes are long and empty, and seasons feel endless. Yet I was patient. I was waiting. Waiting for someone to come along to set things in motion. The moment I saw that red hair of yours—you were eight, skipping along the street beside your father—I knew that you would be that change. Ambrose would never want it, of course. I could smell his fear every new moon; he wanted you to lead a normal, safe life despite the bruise our curse had left on your soul. But fathers often underestimate their daughters, don’t they?”
Her words roused emotion in me. How ironic, I thought, if I crack and crumble right here and now, at her feet. The one who had disguised me.
She must have sensed it. She took hold of my chin, her fingers frigid against the flush of my cheeks. Her long nails bit into my skin, reminding me to be careful. To bury my feelings. “Take care tonight, Clementine. The end draws nigh and many of us are not as we seem.”
“Do you know who struck me last night?”
“I was not watching the hall,” she replied, releasing me. “But the smith is wholly devoted to the heiress, in case you did not know.”
And she picked up the countess’s platter of hen and tossed it out the open window.
I walked the fortress corridors after my meeting with Mazarine, finding my way into the Duke of Seren’s abandoned chambers. The suite that Anna in the dream had guided me to.
It was a different experience to see this chamber in the daylight. The walls were wainscoted with painted oak panels. A massive tapestry dressed one wall, and the marble hearth held a heap of ashes. There were four large windows curtained with red damask and a set of balcony doors that remained wide open, ushering in wisps of snow. The bed was large and sunken in the middle, framed by a grand headboard carved with mountains and moons, and there was a reading chair in one corner, flanked by bookshelves.
I stopped before the bloodstain on the floor.
I imagined Emrys drawing his blade over the duke’s throat, and the duke fighting, clawing for life. It had been a nightmare, a new moon. A bewitching, soul-changing hour.
A mountain wind sighed through the balcony doors. It touched a wardrobe in the corner, whose carven doors were slightly ajar. Something silver flashed within, and I stepped around the blood and snow to behold the heart of the wardrobe.
The knight’s armor hung within.
I stared at it a moment, remembering it from Elle Fielding’s dream, from the nights I had fought beside Phelan.
I reached out to trace its steel. A chill raced up my arm.
“Even now, you are not afraid.”
The voice took me by surprise. I spun to see Emrys standing a few paces away from me, the stain of blood between us, holding gravity like a hole in the floor.
I took a frantic step away from the wardrobe, but I felt trapped. The balcony was at my back, but my uncle was impeding my path to the corridor.
“Forgive me,” I said in a calm voice. “I shouldn’t have wandered here.”
“I seek no apologies,” he replied. Even his voice was like my father’s—deep and gentle. A rumble of thunder. “You are free to explore this place, niece.”
I tensed.
Emrys seemed to know the cause of it, because he glanced over his shoulder to look at the open doorway and then said, “Rest assured. No one comes near this suite but me. And now you, I suppose. We can speak freely here.”
I struggled to believe him. Someone could be lingering just outside the door, eavesdropping. Someone like the countess or Lennox . . .
But I drew in a deep breath and calmed the flutter of my pulse.
“Do you take delight in harming magicians on the new moon?”
He grimaced. “Ah, I was waiting for you to bring that up. My sincerest apologies, Clementine. I did not know it was you.”
“It doesn’t matter if you knew it was me or not.”