“Indeed. Now, deliver the chicken to Mazarine. But do not rush away. Delay and talk to her, to ensure she begins to eat it. Trolls are vain creatures, and they like stories and shrewd company. You will do fine, Anna.” Lady Raven was obviously scared of Mazarine. And she was sending me in her stead.

“I’m not in danger from this troll, am I, lady?”

The countess opened the door and looked at me. Another one of her pitying expressions. “No, my dear. So long as you give her the hen.” She took a step over the threshold but then paused.

I braced myself, my hand eager to find my dagger, hidden in my boot.

“Oh, and Anna?” she added, just before she departed. “Last night, you hesitated, and the nightmare got the best of you. See that you don’t let it happen again.”

40

Ten minutes later, I knocked on Mazarine’s door with a headache and a chicken. She had chosen a room in the northern wing of the fortress, where the colder, darker chambers sat with minimal sunshine and an interior view of the mountains.

“Who knocks?” she growled through the iron-latticed wood.

“It’s Anna Neven,” I replied, balancing the platter of hen.

I heard her footsteps as she approached the door. The multiple locks turning. And then I stood face-to-face with her, and a frightening smile lit her face. Her yellow teeth flashed like amber.

“Anna,” she crooned. “It has been a while. Do come in.”

I entered, struck at once by the abundance of candlelight and the heavy scent of moss and damp stone that filled her chamber. Her windows were open, and snow was swirling into the room. The temperature was frigid.

“Careful,” she warned. “The floor is slick in some places. And mortal bones are quick to fracture.”

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?”