There have been many surprising things that have happened at this castle since their arrival, but perhaps the most surprising of all is how, once they have left the presence of that ephemeral queen, Constance Nim turns to her companion and seizes him fast, pulls him close, and for that moment she is flesh and blood and shaking ever so slightly, so unlike a mountain.

“Thank you, Tristan.” The words are as raw as a rabbit pulling its foot free from a snare, but have just as much life to them. “I owe you and your jests… I owe you. If you would have any favor from me, name it and it will be yours, if I can provide.” The sort of offer that is only extended because the recipient is trusted. Even Constance does not know whether Tristan’s reply will be light-hearted in turn, or as serious as the tilling of the earth.