“And so that we’re clear? I’d drink rat poison before I touched your pea soup again. It’s horrible. It always has been.” Not waiting for him to answer, she turned on her heel and marched away. Only got a few steps before she thought to turn round. “And if you dare tell Morgan that Remmie was here, I’ll make you drink rat poison. Don’t think that I won’t.”

As she often did, she waited for Morgan in the library. But for the first time since she’d set foot in the splendid room, it gave her no pleasure.

Morgan lied. He lied.

Or held back the truth from her, which amounted to the same thing. She was too angry for more weeping. Not even Remmie’s hatefulness had hurt her like this.

How can he love me, and lie to my face?

He came home just on sunset, with the clear sky streaking mauve and gold. Strode into the library smiling, jubilant, a heavy satchel on his shoulder.

“My love! Good news! I have azafris, I have—”

“One chance to explain, Morgan, why you’ve been lying to me!”

He checked like a deer struck through the heart by an arrow. “Lying? My love—”

“Don’t!” she said, sliding out of the chair and lifting her hands. “I’m warning you. Don’t. What’s mage-mist?”

“Oh.” Slowly, he let the heavy satchel thud to the floor. “Rumm!”

Snatching up a cushion, she threw it at him. “You leave Rumm alone. He’s got nothing to do with this. Morgan, when were you going to tell me that things in Dorana had turned so bad?”

“I wasn’t,” he said, watching her carefully. “At least, not until I had no choice. Barl, who told you about mage-mist? Was it Venette? Has she been here?”

She didn’t know whether to weep or scream. “No, it wasn’t Venette, it wasn’t Rumm, it doesn’t matter who it was! What matters is that you lied to me. Why would you do that?”

“To protect you, my love.”

“Protect me? When have I ever asked you to protect me?”

His face was pale, his eyes distressed. “You don’t have to ask, Barl. I love you. I will always protect you.”

“Not by lying to me, you won’t! What is mage-mist?”

“Oh, Barl.” He closed the distance between them, pulled her to his chest and rested his cheek on her hair. “Mage-mist is a leaking of raw magical energy into the air. It’s unpredictable and destructive and it’s causing some problems.”

She didn’t put her arms around him. Her insides were twisting anew with a terrible foreboding.

“Morgan… is it because of the transmutation incants? The shifting syllabics? Is this trouble our fault?”