“When we first met at that banquet,” I start, “you were Lady Himintell, being picked on by those frilly walking dung piles and ridiculed by Gavik. And now”—I motion to her dress, her stiff posture—“you got rid of him. Now you’re an archduchess. Give yourself a thimbleful of credit, will you? You’ve done well.”

Fione breathes out, her gaze skittering over the floor as she thinks of what to say. Finally she looks up, and this time it’s right into my eyes. For the first time since the clearing, her cornflower blue eyes look at me.

“Thank you,” she says.

It’s like the first sprout of spring breaking through a snow bank. My chest warms, and I smile back. It isn’t a long moment, and soon her gaze is out the windows again, but at the very least, it happened. My unheart doesn’t feel so heavy suddenly. Encouraged by it all, I open my mouth.

“Does she usually have nightmares?” Fione’s head snaps up, and I continue. “It’s just, she spends most nights at your place, so I don’t see it often. But last night—”

“She hurt herself. And talked about the Tree,” Fione finishes for me. “Right?”

It’s my turn to look surprised. “How did you—?”

Fione lowers her voice, her face suddenly expressionless, as if she’s trying hard to keep it together. “It’s happened every night since she’s been back. She flails, she screams, she cries. And she mutters about the Tree the whole time.”

Quietly, we watch the maids flicker in and out of the dressing room with long lengths of purple ribbon. Fione’s face is so drawn, so tight with worry. I can’t imagine what it must be like—to have your beloved back, only to watch them struggling so in their sleep.

I lean in to Fione, careful not to get close enough to scare her, and murmur, “If the Tree isn’t real, as you said in the tower, then why is she having so many nightmares about it?”

I know the Tree is real. Or, at the very least, I know Varia thinks the Tree is real. I know Yorl has given me explanations and evidence as to why the Tree is real. The valkerax has talked about it. But I’ve never seen it. I know the Tree is real in the same sense one knows the gods are real—belief. Fione has never held such beliefs for the gods; if anything, she’s shown disdain for them. She’s a lady of facts and evidence, resisting the unquestioning faith most of Vetris has been scared into by Gavik and the sheer intimidating threat of magic itself.

So my question hangs, and she’s unable to answer it.