“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.