But what if they were? There was nobody to save her except Morgan Danfey. And if she failed to weaken his resolve… if this time next year she was still prisoned in his mansion, still polishing his staircase, still wrapped in the merciless chains of his magic…

Breathing hard, she bit her lip and wrestled with the fear. If she wept, if she despaired, it meant the Council had won.

The fragile moment passed. Cautious, she straightened and gave herself a little shake. Then she banished everything but the need to make the next length of banister shine. Oh… except she was forbidden to set foot past the third floor landing, wasn’t she?

“But Dilys isn’t,” she murmured, threading the wax-soaked polishing rag through and through her honey scented fingers. “And for the moment, I’m her.”

She looked up. The fourth floor was home to Morgan Danfey’s apartments. What if she slipped up there now, while she was unwatched? If she could gain entrance to his privy domain she’d be able to catch a glimpse of who he was when he was alone and felt safe. That would be useful. The more she knew of him, the easier it would be to find a way past his defences.

And I have to break him, before the Council breaks me.

Holding her breath, she listened again for any hint of Lord Danfey, the slightest creak of stair tread heralding Rumm’s approach. Silence. Beyond the third floor landing’s intricate stained-glass window, it was a glorious day. Filtered sunlight dappled her emerald and cobalt blue, patchworking the pale yellow linen skirt Remmie had sent her into a stained-glass echo.

Remmie.

Imagining her brother’s dismay, she pulled a face. “I have to go up there, Rem. If I don’t, just because Morgan Danfey said so, just because I’m afraid, then they really have won.”

If Remmie were here, he’d scold her. Take her elbow and drag her downstairs. But he wasn’t. She was alone, and lonely, because the servants didn’t dare befriend her and Rumm didn’t care. Oh, how she missed her scolding brother. Only now, forbidden to see him, did she realise how much a part of her he’d become since their parents died. Remmie was the light to her shadow, the gentle hand on the string when she was the kite soaring heedless toward the sun.

I wouldn’t be in this mess if I’d listened to him.

But she hadn’t, and she was, and now she had to get herself out of it. Before she changed her mind or Rumm appeared, Barl lightly ran up the stairs.