“Not all who meet her see enough to realize that.” Dupont leaned in to blow gently on the infant flame, encouraging it to move across the kindling and onto the larger sticks behind it. “Or the power she wields. After all, here we both find ourselves, practicing for an adventure of her design.”

Gwen sheathed her sword and crouched beside Madame Dupont so she could help sort through the split logs. Tearing at them for kindling was a good vent for her turbulent thoughts, and as the silence stretched, she had the unsettling feeling that Dupont had somehow read her mind—had somehow known that when Gwen had said she needed to vent her energy, what she really needed was to speak.

The pile of ready kindling next to Dupont had grown to somewhat ridiculous proportions before a splinter jabbed its way into Gwen’s thumb. She hissed an epithet and tore the offending shard of wood out and threw it into the flames.

Closing her eyes, she summoned her courage and blurted, “I’m not so sure I should do this thing tomorrow.”

Dupont drew a slow breath, though there was no break in the minute sounds of her tending the fledgling fire. “I think if you were not nervous, it would mean that you did not understand the magnitude of what you intend to do. But you must not mistake nerves for knowledge of what is to come.”

“If I lose,” Gwen whispered, “then I’m consigning her to a fate I can’t prevent. I’m the one who lets her down. Who feeds her to the dragon.” She dropped her head, gazing down at the marble floor as it flickered and glowed with reflected firelight. “And even if I win, at best I’m only postponing her fate. Maybe she should just run, get out of this castle, out of this county—maybe by offering her this hope, I’m putting her in harm’s way. Even if I win, I can’t save her.”

“You can save her from this marriage, this moment,” Dupont replied. “It is not for you to save her from all things that may come—that isn’t what she has asked you to do.”

“But it’s what I want to do,” Gwen burst out, dropping her hands to the floor to keep from losing her balance. Her gaze lifted to rest on the massive dragonslaying spear hung over the fireplace, wishing for something so simple as a monster to fight. She bit her lip against the rest of what she desperately wished to say, certain that Madame Dupont, of all people, would chastise her for letting her heart become tangled up in her mission.

But Madame Dupont only smiled a quick, dry smile, and shifted her gaze from the fire to Gwen. “If you lose tomorrow, will you care for her any less than you do now?”

Gwen blinked at her. “Of course not.”