“He’s just the first boy that happened to take notice of you,” Jolene said dismissively. “You’ll—” But then she stopped and peered more closely at Anna’s face, and her brows furrowed. “Go on,” she said, and motioned to Anna to continue.

“Y’all’s gonna live as long as th’ mountains. By yore reckoning, I ain’t gonna be aroun’ but a couple’a seasons. Y’all c’n hev yore pick o’ men, an’ I reckon they don’ mean too much t’ a Queen like y’all. But I’m different from y’all. I c’n niver love agin . . .” She sobbed, once, and got control of herself. “I know it. I know it, like I know th’ grass’s green an’ summer comes arter spring. I ain’t niver gonna love agin, an’ I ain’t niver gonna be happy agin iffen y’all take him. But fer y’all—he’s a-gonna jest be one more y’all collected. An’ thet ain’t no good reason t’part us. Please don’ take him jest ’cause y’all can.”

Jolene crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her right finger on her cheek. Anna held her breath. At least Jolene didn’t look offended.

“Would you say he feels the same?” she asked finally. “After all, if I can take him so easily, wouldn’t that mean he doesn’t really ‘love’ you?”

She shook her head. “He tol’ me he did. I b’lieve him. But . . .”

“But iffen he don’t feel thet way, then yore better shuck of him,” she heard in her memory. And was Aunt Jinny so wrong?

“Well. Let’s just go find out, shall we?” Jolene asked, and before Anna could say anything in reply, she waved her hand.

There was a flash of light—and they were no longer in the cavern with the throne. They were in the cavern where Josh’s workbench stood, and where that bed had been created for him.

He wasn’t sleeping now, he was awake, one hand on the malachite pillar, the other on the workbench, frowning in concentration.

Anna didn’t even get a chance to move; Jolene stopped her by gripping her shoulder. “He can’t see or hear us,” Jolene said calmly. “But just to be sure that you don’t interfere—” For the first time in Anna’s experience, Jolene sketched an actual glyph in the air, the lines of the sign glowing and pulsing with power before they faded. And when they had faded, Anna found herself completely unable to move.

“I can make him famous,” Jolene said conversationally. “Or, if it’s creation that he is interested in, and not fame, I can give him everything he could possibly need to execute the images in his mind. Never again will he have to work with inferior tools and material. I can even teach him how to shape the stone with his fingers alone, as easily as molding clay, and I can give him the power to make that possible. What can you possibly offer him?”

Her head dropped, as she understood that she really had nothing to compare to that to offer. Life sharing Jinny’s cabin? Dividing his time between farming and his carving? Working with whatever he could get his hands on?