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.

But here they were. Olivette was broadly grinning, her face flushed and ribbons braided into her blond hair. Nura was far more reserved, dressed in a sleek black dress, and I still sensed her pain over my deceit. But her eyes were gentle when they met mine. An invitation to make things right between us.

They each offered me an arm, and I walked between them, through the winding corridors of the fortress.

We passed people I had never seen before, people who were carrying crates and bags of produce and stacks of linens, working to transform this place into home. All of them paused to curtsy or bow to me, and I thought I might die from the embarrassment.

“Here,” Nura suggested, guiding us to the courtyard doors. “Let’s walk the gardens. You need fresh air.”

We stepped outside. The snow was ankle deep on the ground, hiding the plants in white, but the sky was cloudless and ached a vibrant blue. We walked a stone path that had been cleared, through icy rosebushes and a trellis of vines. I soon grew sore for breath, and my friends guided me to a stone bench that overlooked the city of Ulla.