“You see, Cécile,” she said, leaving the pistol where it lay and coming toward me. “That’s what they are. Base. To the human eye, they are so very lovely, but to their ancestors, the immortal fey, they are wretched, ugly, and colorless things. Trolls. With his death, I will curse them never to draw another breath, and no one in this world or the next will mourn their loss.”

I spat in her face, because it was all that I could manage.

Lifting one black sleeve, she wiped it away. Then she slapped my cheek hard enough to whip my face sideways. “Of all the disobedient daughters I’ve had over the centuries, none caused me half as much trouble as you.”

My eyes watered from the pain and I blinked. “I’m sure if they had known the truth about you, they’d have fought harder.”

“The truth?” The look she gave me was ripe with pity.

Going to the window, she pushed back the drapes and eyed the moon. “Time enough.” Her heels made muffled thuds against the carpet as she walked back to Tristan. “How did you know Cécile was mine?”

He laughed silently. “You of all people should know that the fey see all they wish to behold.”

She cocked her head to one side. “If that is so, why did they wait so very long to help you?”

He lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “What is five hundred years to those who watched time begin and will endure beyond its final hour?”

She snorted. “Which is your pretty way of saying that you don’t know. Maybe they wanted to see you suffer?”

“Perhaps.” He smiled at her. “But a base creature such as myself has no business speculating about the motives of his immortal betters. Does it unnerve you that, even now, they are watching?”

Her expression tightened. “Let them watch. Let them bear witness to the end of the trolls.”

“We’ll see,” Tristan replied. “Pulling a mountain down on our heads was not enough to destroy us, so we may yet endure your spell.”

Recoiling, naked surprise broke across her face. “You think I broke the mountain?” She threw back her head and laughed. “Why would I have done such a thing? And how? Ah, you see, Cécile? They cannot lie, but they are the masters of deception. What great steps they must have taken to erase the truth and cast blame so that five centuries later, a Montigny prince himself believes such a falsehood to be true.”

“You’re lying.” Tristan’s voice was flat.

“No, Your Highness, I am not.” She licked her lips, then smiled as though they’d been rimmed with sugar. “The greed of the trolls broke the mountain. You mined the earth too viciously, and it was she who took revenge.”

“I don’t believe you,” Tristan snarled, but I could feel his doubt.

“What if the words came from the one you love?” Her eyes flicked to me. “Would you like to see my memory of that day, Cécile? I know you’ve meddled in such magic before.”