‘He’s dying,’ said Bel. He had the marks, the spell was all ready, but it would not leave his hand. The marks refused to enter Clariel’s flesh. He looked quickly at the King. ‘It has all been too much. He’s smiling, though. Ader is telling him the news.’

‘Telling him …’

‘Princess Tathiel came with the Clayr,’ said Bel. He grimaced as the spell rebounded again and he lost the marks. ‘She has been with them all this time. She will be Queen. Much against her wishes.’

‘We can’t all get what we want,’ whispered Clariel. ‘I thought it was so simple … the Great Forest … not so much to ask …’

‘No, not so much,’ said Bel.

Clariel didn’t answer.

Bel wiped his eyes and reached for the Charter again. Mistress Ader came to his side, and he felt her hand upon his shoulder, lending him strength. But again the marks were repelled and Bel, already weary from his frantic flight in pursuit of Clariel, almost fainted from the effort himself.

‘There is too much Free Magic in her,’ said Ader, her voice kind but sure. ‘The wound is too deep. You have to let her go, Bel – and we must make sure she cannot come back.’

Bel nodded slowly and stood up as if carrying a great weight upon his back. As he did so, Mogget curled around his legs.

‘There is a way to save her, you know,’ said the cat. ‘Or you should know, if either of you had been properly educated. I suppose I could tell you, now you have recalled me to myself and to make some … ahem … amends.’

‘What?’ asked Bel urgently.

‘The Great Charter Stones,’ said Mogget. ‘Your healing spells will work if you draw upon them. Take her down to the reservoir.

‘Though it might be too late,’ he added, pulling one paw back daintily from the spreading pool of blood.

epilogue

Clariel came to consciousness slowly. For a moment she was disoriented, feeling the crisp linen under her, the sheet and fine wool blanket across her body. Was she home in Estwael, or was she still trapped in the new house in Belisaere?

Her eyes opened to see a circular room she’d never been in before. She was somewhere high up, the narrow window opposite showing only a night sky with a scattering of stars, dim in the light of the Charter marks that glowed softly above her bedhead.

Her side ached, and her face …

Clariel remembered. Her hands flew up, to touch nose and mouth, fearing to find bronze but instead feeling familiar skin. She let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. Slowly she traced her cheekbones, and then, more hesitantly than ever, touched the middle of her forehead.