“Aren’t you finished yet?” he demanded. “Mage Lindin, dawdling will do you no favours here.”

Dawdling? When she could hardly raise her arms above shoulder height after half-killing herself in the poultry coop? And after that with the hoeing of weeds in the horses’ carrot patch? And after that, helping one of the other servants haul sopping wet sheets out of the laundry tub, wring them free of water, then hang them to dry?

The injustice of Rumm’s accusations left her gaping.

“We start our duties early,” he said. “You’ll be roused before dawn. So you decide how much sleep you’d like tonight.”

Teeth sunk into her lower lip, she let him leave without offering a word in her own defence. She didn’t dare try. She’d only end up shouting… or worse.

Every breath she took, she took afraid she’d wake her binding.

At long last, with the final pot clean and dried, she drained the horrible water from the sink, wiped down every flat surface, bathed in the servants’ scullery then staggered off to the pokey little cupboard they’d cleaned out for her to sleep in.

Knowing she had no glimfire, someone had left a lit candle in her tiny room. The small, unexpected kindness touched her on the raw. Then, when she saw her old canvas carryall, stuffed full with clothes to wear in her exile, she had to blink and blink again to clear her blurred vision. And when she found Remmie’s hastily scribbled note, and read it, she burst into tears.

I’m thinking of you every minute. Don’t be afraid. I’ll find you a way out of this. Remmie.

Fighting back despair, Barl stripped off her stinking clothes, pulled on her nightshirt, blew out the solitary candle and crawled beneath the blanket on her lumpy, straw-mattress bed.

Oh, Remmie. Remmie. I’m sorry. Please help me.

Alone, in the darkness, she shivered herself to sleep.

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Like a beautiful voice raised in song, the magic lilts through her, making her weep. She feels like a golden fish swimming a river of power. Magic cradles her, carries her sweetly in its golden arms. There is pleasure here, and the glory of serenity. When she swims in magic’s river she is entirely herself. Fear is banished, doubt washes away. Surrounded by magic she is strong and sure. She knows who she is, knows what purpose she was born for.