It alarmed me to think the master of coin had been wearing a full-blown guise, just as I had been. That he had been masquerading as a well-known, beloved person—Lord Deryn. But this would explain why the duke had ordered my father to guard Mazarine, over a decade ago. Because if something happened to the troll, then the duke’s disguise would surely crumble.

I discreetly glanced up from my peeling to catch sight of him on the other side of the camp, speaking to Phelan.

“His Grace certainly pays a great deal of attention to Phelan,” Nura said sharply.

“I’ve noticed that as well.”

She glanced at me. “You and Phelan are still at odds?”

“He refuses to speak with me.”

“Well,” Nura said, scraping her second batch of sliced carrots into the pot. “Sometimes conflict can’t be resolved with words alone. Sometimes it requires settlement of a different sort.” And she gave me a shrewd smile.

A burst of laughter escaped me.

“Ah,” she whispered. “You have drawn his eyes now.”

“Is he hurling daggers my way?”

“On the contrary. He looks immensely jealous of me, as if he longs to be the one who made you laugh.”

I smacked her arm, which made her chuckle.

“Don’t tease me, Nura.”

“If you doubt me, then look for yourself, Anna.”

I did, unable to resist. As soon as my gaze touched his, Phelan languidly glanced away, back to the duke, as if I didn’t exist.

“Oh yes,” Nura said, also noticing. “You have certainly gotten under his skin. Whatever did you do, my friend?”

I focused on my potato peeling, thinking if she knew the truth . . . she would despise me. “Perhaps I enchanted him, and the spell has broken.”

Olivette returned with an armload of branches and dropped them before us, and I didn’t realize she had been crying until Nura leapt to her feet.

“Oli? Oli, what is it?”

Olivette glanced at her father, who sat on a nearby rock. Mr. Wolfe froze, stricken. He made to rise and approach until Olivette turned away.

“I’m not going with him,” she announced, dashing tears from her cheeks. “He’s lied to me my entire life. Why should I believe anything he says now? Why should I risk myself by returning to some cursed mountain fortress?”

“Come, let’s chat.” Nura took a gentle hold of Olivette’s hand, guiding her away from the camp.

I hesitated until I saw the sheen in Mr. Wolfe’s eyes, and I stood, following Nura and Olivette. I could relate to Olivette more than anyone else in this camp. Her words could be my own, as if she and I were reflections of each other. And I wanted to say, I understand how you feel. My childhood has also been built upon lies.