The crowd parted to make a path to the entrance of the castle, but the Regent stepped to one side. “After you, Your Highness.”

Tristan started forward, Fred and the Regent falling in behind him, and none of them looked back. I raised a foot to follow, then lowered it back into the puddle that the magic coating my skin had melted into the snow. I was not needed in this, nor, I thought, glancing down at my tattered and bloodstained costume, welcome.

The crowd of nobles dispersed, some calling desperately for their carriages so they might escape to the dubious safety of their homes, while others went to peer through the lowered portcullis, the wind having eroded away the dragon’s shape, leaving behind only a mound of snow. Many of them cast suspicious glances my way, understanding that I was somehow involved, but none of them guessing in what capacity. That I was responsible. That in the space of a few heartbeats, I had determined the fate of us all.

Almost from the moment I’d known the trolls existed, my purpose had been set. My goal known. Kill the witch. End the curse. Rescue Tristan. Free my friends. All of which I had accomplished.

And now?

I’d unleashed the trolls and worse upon the world with a vague certainty that it could be made to work, that we would triumph and peace would be had; but not once had I considered what role I would play. What part Tristan would play, yes. The innate decency of most of the trolls, yes. The ability of my friends to overthrow the wicked, yes. But of myself…

I swallowed hard, panic creeping in around the edges of my thoughts. Tristan had walked away without acknowledging who I was or what I’d done. Without so much as a backward glance. Logically, I knew that he would not have done so without reason. Good reason. But the dreadful grasping claws of doubt whispered something else.

The gazes of those left outside no longer seemed suspicious; they seemed full of accusation and blame. The urge to run filled me, but to where? The home of the woman I’d murdered? The hotel room filled with memories? There was nowhere and no one in Trianon that I could turn to for guidance. Except…

My feet moved, and I flew up the steps into the castle. Faster and faster I ran, through the dim corridors until I found the door I was looking for. Flinging it open, I stumbled inside. “Sabine?”

And slid to a stop. Julian knelt on the floor, his face streaked with tears and my mother’s corpse in his arms. His eyes blazed with anger, and with one hand, he fumbled for the pistol at his waist and pointed it at my chest. “Murderer,” he hissed.

He was not wrong.

Chapter 2

Tristan

Do not look at her! I screamed the order at myself, but keeping my back turned and taking those first few steps seemed almost impossible.