‘Adonai and Estel,’ Israfil said, and suddenly Riv’s head was full of blood and feathers, of Estel’s White-Wings insignia torn and stamped upon on the flagstoned floor. ‘You know of what I speak.’

It was not a question.

‘Improper relations,’ Riv murmured, remembering Israfil’s words in the Great Hall.

‘Yes. I am hearing rumours. That this behaviour . . .’ He paused, face twisting with uncommon passion. ‘This sin is more widespread than I would have hoped. That Adonai was not the only Ben-Elim, Estel not the only mortal engaged in these . . . practices.’

Riv felt a heat flush through her, as if she were racked with guilt.

But I have done nothing wrong.

And then she thought of Kol, on that moonlit night beyond Oriens. His smile, the touch of his fingertips against her lips. The shiver it had stirred in her.

‘Do you know of any such conduct?’ Israfil asked her.

She gulped. ‘Me, I, no. No, Lord Protector.’

He regarded her a long moment, then nodded slowly.

‘It may be that I am wrong. But, if it is happening, it must be stamped out, quickly and ruthlessly, before it spreads. It is wrong, and it would destroy us.’

Riv nodded, though again she got the feeling that Israfil was talking to himself more than to her.

‘I am gathering a small group about me,’ Israfil said, definitely talking to Riv now, as he pinned her with his gaze. ‘A few that I trust. You are one of them, Riv, because I see your passion and dedication to the cause, despite your, issues. I am placing my trust in you, even talking to you of this. But I would ask more. I would ask you to be my eyes and ears.’

He is asking me to spy on my own. But he is the Lord Protector, the highest power in my world. How can I refuse him?

‘Of course, Lord Protector,’ she heard herself say.

There was a knock at the door, making Riv jump.

Israfil took a long moment, eyes fixed on Riv. ‘My thanks,’ he said to her. Then. ‘Enter.’

Ethlinn walked in, Balur One-Eye at her shoulder.

‘We’ve had news from our scouts tracking the Kadoshim,’ Ethlinn said. She saw Riv sitting before Israfil, raised an eyebrow, but continued.

‘Has one of my Ben-Elim returned?’ Israfil asked.

‘No,’ a croaking voice came from the unshuttered window, and a big black crow flew into the room, flying around and then landing on the arm of Riv’s chair. It looked up at her with one beady eye.

‘Our friends from Dun Seren have sent help,’ Ethlinn said, a twitch of a smile on her lips.

‘Flick,’ the bird croaked.