‘Will they?’ asked Clariel. It was interesting that Valannie did not say that her connection to the King, or the Abhorsens, would make her popular. Her father had been strange about this as well, with his talk of the ‘best people’.

‘Tell me, Valannie, should I mention that my grandfather is the Abhorsen? Or the King my mother’s cousin?’

Valannie stopped doing up the left sandal for a second. Clariel looked down at the top of her maid’s head. The foremost part of hair, that part not covered by her scarf, was so shiny and stiff that she realised it must be coated with lacquer, or a varnish.

‘Perhaps not unless it is brought up first, milady,’ Valannie said cautiously. ‘There, the buckle should rest just above the ankle, no higher, and turned out so.’

‘Why?’ asked Clariel.

‘The buckle is very fine work, and gold, so should be shown. If it were pinchbeck or mere gilt, then you would hide it –’

‘No. Why should I not mention my connection with the King or the Abhorsen?’

Valannie looked up and gave the tinkling laugh that had already annoyed Clariel on several occasions.

‘Oh, politics, milady! That is for your elders, I think –’

‘I wish to know,’ said Clariel sternly. ‘If you will not tell me, I shall ask at the Academy. I shall ask everyone I meet.’

Valannie snapped back like a bowstring freed of its arrow, and took Clariel’s hands anxiously in her own.

‘No, no, my dear. You mustn’t do that!’

‘Then explain to me. What are the politics? What is going on in the city?’

Valannie scowled and dropped Clariel’s hands.

‘Oh, milady, you are a hard mistress. I will tell you, but you must not let on that it was I. Your parents do not want you worried, and there are … well, it is not right for a young girl to be drawn into troubles that are of no concern –’

‘They are of concern!’ snapped Clariel. ‘I wish to know.’

Valannie pursed her lips, and looked to the door, before lowering her voice.

‘Some years ago, the King went mad, or so they say. He is very old …’

‘And?’ asked Clariel, as Valannie faltered.