“I called you duchess,” the troll replied.
“Why? I’m not your duchess.”
She cocked her gnarled brow at me. “You do not remember, Clementine?”
I traced through my memories. Bloodstains, darkness, wind, shattering glass. Breaking and breathing and arrows and dreams and the rhythm of Phelan’s heart against my cheek.
“I remember, but Phelan is the one who claimed the throne,” I said.
“You both did. You sat as one; you broke the curse as one.” Mazarine paused, watching the emotions ripple across my face. “You are not pleased, child?”
“I . . . I didn’t want this!”
“Nor did he. Which means the two of you are perfect for this task.”
“So he is duke?”
“Aye.”
“And I am duchess?”
“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”
I swallowed a hysterical laugh. “But . . . how can you call us that? We aren’t married.”
Mazarine shrugged, utterly unperturbed. “You and Phelan are still bound by commitment and magic of your own making. You are partners.”
I was quiet, overwhelmed.
“The two of you are like iron, sharpening the other,” Mazarine said. “I sense that he could not do this without you, and you would not want to do it without him. Together you are stronger, a balance. You will both lead the duchy into a new era.”
I groaned again and covered my face with my hands. But I couldn’t deny that I felt a small thrill when I imagined this new path before me.
The door opened.
I glanced up to see it was Imonie, and my heart lifted at the sight of her.
The lines on her face eased when she beheld me awake and sitting in bed. But then she looked at Mazarine, and her scowl returned with vengeance.
“You’ve upset her,” Imonie stated.
“I have kept this extraordinary yet fragile mortal alive,” Mazarine replied smoothly. “I believe gratitude is in order?”
Imonie huffed, but she nodded. “You have my eternal gratitude, Brin of Stonefall.”
Mazarine made a smug noise. But she set down my water cup and rose. “I will be just outside the door if you need me, Your Grace.”
It took me a moment to realize she was addressing me, and I cleared my throat and nodded. “Thank you, Mazarine. Brin.”
The troll left, shutting the door behind her.
Imonie quietly took her place, her eyes never leaving my face.
“How are you feeling, Clementine?” she asked.
“I’ve been better. How long have I been asleep?”
“For a week.”
“A week?”
Imonie nodded. “Your parents and I have been worried sick, but that troll would only let us visit you once a day.” She reached forward to take my hand, a rare display of affection from her.
I smiled and squeezed her fingers with what strength I could find, which was still faint.
“Can I get you anything, Clementine? Water, tea, food?”
My stomach was indeed empty, but I wasn’t hungry for food. I leaned back into my array of pillows and said, “Will you tell me a story?”
A flicker of surprise passed over Imonie’s face. But then she smiled and smoothed the wrinkles from my blankets.
And my grandmother told me the stories of the mountains.
My parents visited not long after Imonie departed. Papa brought in a tray of soup, soft bread, and tea, and my mother acted like she was going to feed it to me until I took the spoon.
They perched on either side of my bed, watching me eat.
“I’m going to be fine,” I said, seeking to reassure them. But my hand trembled as I lifted the spoon to my lips. I knew I still had many weeks of recovery before me, and I wondered where Phelan was, but I was too proud to ask after him.
“Where is the countess?” I asked instead.
“She’s recovering,” Papa replied. “She plans to leave the mountains and return to Endellion once she is able to travel. Lennox will accompany her. She’ll be under house arrest for a while, per Phelan’s wishes.”
“And what of the duke? The master of coin?”
My parents were silent, provoking me to look up from my soup.
“He fled the hall after he shot you,” Mama said. “And after Mazarine removed the arrow and tended to you, she hunted him down. He was hiding in one of the lower levels of the fortress.”
“Is he dead?” I asked.
My father nodded.
I didn’t pity the master of coin, not after seeing the extent of his greed. But I would certainly need to speak to Mazarine about how I wanted to dole out punishment in the days to come.
“Mazarine has taken up her service to you with unfaltering allegiance,” my mother stated, as if she had read the trail of my thoughts. “I believe she has appointed herself as your guard.”
“And let her remain that way, Clem,” my father pleaded. “She is stubborn and frightening, but she will protect you.”
“Yes, I think I’ll keep her.” I set down my soup, feeling nauseated. After a week of being asleep, I had filled my stomach too swiftly. I reached for the teapot but my father beat me to it, pouring me a cup. He even knew how much cream and honey to stir into it. And then I realized there was tea, when there had not been before, and I whispered, “Where did the tea come from?”
“Phelan has opened the fortress,” Papa replied. “He has been busy while you slept, traveling and gathering resources and people. This place has returned to life.”
I fell quiet, listening. And while the walls around me were thick . . . I caught a faint trace of laughter. A rumble of furniture being shifted. The clang of something like pots. Doors opening and closing.
My unworthiness rose. My fears and worries nipped at my thoughts and I suddenly felt very small and very unprepared.
I looked at my parents and said, “Will you both help me? Will you both stay with me? I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Papa made a sound, and I think he was swallowing his tears. He leaned close to me and dropped a kiss on my brow, and I knew he would walk beside me, that he would be with me for the hard days as well as the good days.
My mother took my hand in hers, a hand full of magic and love and gentleness. “We will help you, Clementine. Whatever you need, we will be here for you.”
She exchanged a glance with my father, one that made my breath catch.
I thought about the different paths we had each taken—vengeance and fear and anger and solitude and pain—and yet how all three of us had ended up here, in this strange moment of new beginnings.
I’d once believed that magic and secrets and beliefs had torn us apart. But in the end, I think it wove us back together with stronger threads.
The next day, Mazarine said it was time for me to get up and walk. I bathed and dressed with her assistance, and then I stood beside the hearth, holding on to the back of a chair. My head swam, and my legs felt like pudding, but I was not about to say such things to the troll.
“I think . . . I think I need a cane,” I said.
“Will we do?”
I glanced up to see Nura and Olivette enter my chamber. I hadn’t dared to hope that they had remained in the fortress after the curse’s breaking. I hadn’t dared to hope that they would want to see me, speak with me.