She couldn’t speak. Could only nod. Orwin’s wedding ring sat on Remmie’s palm, bloodily reproachful.

“He wasn’t beasted,” Remmie said, his arm sliding around her. “I think he must’ve fought back when the creatures Morgan sent here tried to take him.”

Any lingering affection she’d felt for Haeth’s son died in that moment.

“I want to see him,” she said, struggling to her feet. “I want to see my husband.”

His eyes brilliant with grief, Remmie took hold of her shoulders. “No, Venette. You don’t.”

Silenced, she looked at him. Thought, I am a widow. And then the tears came. She sobbed in Remmie’s compassionate embrace until her throat was raw, her head aching. Some time after she was empty, she pulled free of his arms.

“Your sister should be back by now,” she said, and was shocked by how she sounded. “We’ll return to the inn, Remmie. There is a great deal to do.”

The days that came after blurred swiftly one into the next, until weeks had passed with hardly any good news to be found.

Morgan slept in his mansion, shifted from the library onto his bed. Every day, Venette checked on him. Not once did he stir, still and quiet as an effigy upon its marble tomb.

Scolding, cajoling, encouraging and pleading, Dreen Brislyn rallied the shaken General Council. She and her colleagues crafted their missives to the princes and potentates belligerent at the borders, and in return wrung from them a suspicious, reluctant respite. The cursed mages of Dorana had the span of two full moons in which to undo the creeping damage their magic had caused. But if, following two full moons, Dorana’s innocent neighbours still suffered from Doranen magic, then the mages of Dorana would tender payment in blood.

Dreen and her General Council kept that ultimatum secret from all save Venette Martain, Barl Lindin and her brother, and devoted every hour they could find to the succouring of Dorana. Travelling laboriously by carriage, they visited every district, meeting with civic leaders, struggling to allay fears, instil confidence, and show by example that the mages of Dorana could, for a little while, live a magickless life. The people should not lose hope. Their magework was not gone from them forever. There was to be a working in Elvado, and a plan was in place to rid Dorana of mage-mist.

With Venette’s guidance, Remmie by her side, Elvado’s frightened survivors were shepherded to a fragile calm. The first thing they did was gather Morgan Danfey’s bound beasts in the central plaza, nine hundred and ninety-six of them all told. Remmie tried to kill one, but no sooner had his dagger plunged hilt-deep in the monstrous thing’s heart than the blade was spat out again, rejected. So the creatures were piled into the lightless chambers below the Hall, and Barl was called from her magework to ward them within.