Well, I'm pretty sure I'm required to fill this one.

*

After so long changing faces with every dusk and dawn, Ragnelle no longer thinks of herself as one thing or the other, foul or fair. Her husband lauds her beauty (and her wisdom, she must give him credit there), but she remembers him flinching, coming to her bed with reluctance rather than pleasure.

She may wear only one face now, but that doesn't mean she's forgotten the other, that it doesn't lurk somewhere beneath her smooth skin.