A bell chimed as I pushed open the door and stepped into the well-lit shop. The proprietor curtseyed deeply, but I focused on the woman who did not. Brown eyes regarded me with curiosity.

“You aren’t a troll!” I blurted out.

“Neither,” the woman replied, “are you.”

The proprietor of the store grimaced but interestingly, didn’t ignore me. “My lady, this is Esmeralda Montoya. She is a trader of fine goods.”

One of the woman’s eyebrows arched upwards. “My lady? I must say, I’ve heard the trolls call us humans any number of things, but generally speaking, none of them are so polite. You must be the girl they bonded to His Royal Highness.”

I gave a faint nod.

“By choice?”

“No.”

Esmeralda shook her head, her brow furrowing. Although she was dressed in men’s clothing, the fabrics looked expensive and she wore no small amount of jewelry. Her business with the trolls was clearly a lucrative one. “And now you are caught in the midst of the rival politics of a place you probably didn’t even know existed,” she said.

“I was supposed to break the curse,” I said. “Otherwise, I know nothing of the politics involved.”

“When it comes to the curse, there are no politics, no sides,” she said. “It is the one thing that unites all trolls – their desire to be free of this place.”

I frowned, remembering Tristan’s reaction to our failure to break the curse, and how it had been decidedly contrary to the sentiment of the crowd. “If they are united,” I said, “then I fail to see how I can be caught in the middle.”

Esmeralda opened her mouth to speak, but the proprietor interrupted. “You overstep yourself, Montoya. One would have thought you’d have learned to keep your mouth shut by now.”

“So report me to the trade magister,” Esmeralda replied, not looking overly concerned about the prospect. “Though of what you’d accuse me is a mystery to me.”

“Meddling.” The troll planted her hands on her hips.

“I hadn’t realized that was a crime.” One corner of Esmeralda’s mouth quirked up. “Why don’t you do me a favor, Reagan, and leave us to our conversation.”

“A favor?” The troll’s face perked up. “In exchange for what?”

“Ill-nurtured harpy!” Esmeralda swore. “The pox on you lot and your favors. What do you want?”

Reagan grinned. “The pox is of little concern to me, Montoya.” She rubbed her hands together. “A promise that you will grant me a moderate-sized favor of my choosing.”

“A small favor.”

The troll shook her head. “She is the wife of the heir to the throne. This is no small thing.” A dark smile touched her lips. “His Majesty has hanged you humans for less.”

I gasped, but Esmeralda didn’t blink. “A quick enough death, in the scheme of things.”

“For you, perhaps,” Reagan said, rubbing her hands together. “You are a fragile creature, human.” Her gaze flickered past me to Élise. “Tell me, girl, how long did it take for the last half-breed to die? How long did he hang from the noose, his better half clinging to life while his human half dragged him towards death?”