Everyone froze either to gape at my father with surprise or regard him with suspicion. I played the act, looking at him with an arched brow.

Papa calmly ate the last spoonful of his stew and set his bowl aside. Imonie, who was visibly anxious at the turn of conversation, took his bowl and began to wash it. My mother sat on a rock nearby, her long dark hair boasting a blue sheen in the firelight, her face sorrowful.

“Yes, where is Clementine?” the countess asked. “I’ve heard so much about her. Should she not be here with us? Both of my sons are. Aaron’s daughter is here. Where is yours?”

“I don’t know where my daughter is,” Papa said. “After our town was lost to us . . . she was angry with me and ran away. I haven’t been able to locate her.”

“You don’t have any tricks up your sleeve, do you, Ambrose?” the countess queried with a laugh. “Although perhaps I should also ask the same of you, Ms. Britelle? Since you are a seasoned stagecraft performer.”

My mother narrowed her eyes. “What are you implying, lady?”

“That you have schemed for Clementine to arrive at the mountain fortress after we have ascended and taken all the risk and danger.”

Mazarine snorted and cracked open a new chicken bone. Thankfully no one paid her any heed but me.

I told myself to inhale, exhale. To not draw any attention. But my body was wound tight and I think Nura sensed it, sitting beside me.

“Clementine has no idea who I truly am,” Papa answered. “I have withheld my past from her. And when she does discover it . . . the last thing she’ll want is to be anywhere near me.”

His words dampened the mood of camp. My father stared into the flames, as if his only daughter was truly lost. But through the fire and the dancing shadows and the starlight, I felt someone watching me.

I lifted my gaze to meet Phelan’s.

This time, he did not look away.

33

I couldn’t ascend the mountain the following morning without speaking to my father in private. The questions were devouring me. And I remembered the things I had once said to him, when my heart had been wrung by betrayal.

You are vile and deceptive and I want no part of you.

I retired to my tent and waited for the camp to fall quiet. I cloaked myself with stealth and slipped into the night, cautiously approaching my parents’ tent.

I hesitated a beat. I was anxious to enter unannounced, because I was uncertain about the status of their relationship. I had been surprised that my mother chose to accompany my father on this journey, given their past.

But perhaps love was not something easily forgotten, even when it had burned down to ashes.