‘And?’ she asked, turning to look at her daughter as she bit off the top of the asparagus and flicked the woody stem back on her plate.

‘I … attended, as I have been asked to do,’ said Clariel.

‘You met other young people,’ said Jaciel. ‘Including Aronzo, our Guildmaster’s son?’

‘Yes,’ said Clariel, her mouth tightening. It was typical that having decided not to bring up the subject herself, her mother unerringly did so for her, as if she could sense her daughter’s caution.

‘Good,’ said Jaciel. ‘I wished you to meet him. You and he are of a similar age. I believe he is a useful journeyman in his father’s workshop and will soon be admitted as a goldsmith in his own right.’

‘Will he?’ snorted Clariel. ‘I doubt he works very hard at it.’

‘Do not judge others by your lack of application,’ said Jaciel. ‘Have you found a present for the King?’

‘Not yet,’ said Clariel. She could feel herself growing angry again. It was somehow closer to her now, after her berserk fury earlier that day, and she had to try harder to keep it in check. ‘I hope I will have something tomorrow. Even though I know it’s just an excuse to get you in the Palace to look at that Dripstone work or whatever it is.’

‘Dropstone work,’ said Jaciel coldly. ‘It is very important that I see it, and given the King’s attitude, your presentation for the kin-gift was the only way to do so. You should be pleased to be able to help me towards what I intend will be a truly great creation of my art.’

‘That’s all you care about it, isn’t it?’ snapped Clariel, rising to her feet and throwing down her knife and fork so they clashed on her plate, a meeting of arms like a harbinger of battle. ‘Your art! You can’t even see that other people have things they care about just as much, but you won’t help them!’

‘Clarrie …’ warned her father, raising one ineffectual hand.

‘I suggest you retire,’ said Jaciel, apparently unperturbed by her daughter’s outburst. ‘I am making allowances for you, Clariel. I know that our removal here has disturbed you, but please do understand that I … that we … simply know far better how to arrange your future. You will be grateful, in time.’

‘How can you say that?’ asked Clariel, her cheeks white with suppressed anger. ‘You ran away from your home to do what you needed to do! How can you not understand that I want something different from you too!’

Jaciel’s eyes had half closed as Clariel spoke, hooded as if she was momentarily lost in thought. She opened them wide and stared at her daughter, a powerful, disturbing stare.