‘Luca, we’ve been calling and calling!’ With a shimmer of gold embroidery, half-eaten carrot brandished like a light sabre, Mishaal’s wife rushed forward. ‘How wonderful to see you!’

He recognised the big, naughty blue eyes. So like Ronnie’s, but without the wisdom. Still brimming with an appetite for fun and fortune, they were set in a pretty face with a surface so smoothed by chemicals it had no expression. And the huck of laughter was unmistakable.

‘Signe?’

‘I am Princess Atiya now,’ she said graciously.

‘Good on ya.’ Luca’s gaze flicked to the stable door again. Darkness. Heart slamming harder.

‘Luca!’ Ronnie bustled between them, the original and authentic blue eyes fixed on his like emergency lights. ‘About bloody—’

‘MUMMY!’ There was a banshee wail from the archway. ‘WHERE IS KES?’

‘If you’ll excuse me, Your Highnesses?’ Ronnie marched off towards Pax.

Luca faced Mishaal, for so long the boy man he’d despaired of helping. He found he couldn’t address him formally. He couldn’t speak. His heart was a fist in his throat. He nodded instead.

Mishaal was swathed in a black and gold farwa coat, a thick Bedouin armour of jewelled, corded velvet, as exotic on the frosted cobbles as a leopard. He nodded back. Behind him, his big bull of a bodyguard stood in front of Beck’s door, trigger hands making fists by his sides.

Mishaal stepped forwards with a swish. ‘Luca, I came to make peace.’

‘Is that a fact?’ Luca was still eyeing the dark stable door and its beefcake doorman.

‘Listen to our plea, Luca.’ Signe stepped beside her husband and they held hands.

‘My marriage to Atiya has made a great difference to me,’ Mishaal said, raising his wife’s hand to his lips. ‘We have worked together on many changes, on our charitable projects and on our beloved family.’ He touched her bump. ‘Atiya focusses her spirituality on processes that heal.’

‘Good for you.’

‘I have made an inventory of all those that I have harmed and I wish to make amends to you all. I humbly ask your forgiveness.’ Mishaal lowered his eyes and waited.

Luca was nonplussed. Weren’t those the words of the Eighth Step so recently baulked at by himself and Pax? Had Signe plagiarised them for her healing spirituality?

He shot her a wary look.

The big blue eyes radiated back kindness. ‘My husband is lifting the curse, Luca.’

‘Oh, right. That’s good news.’ He glanced to the stable door again.

‘Peace be with you, namaste, assalamu alaikum, fred være med dog.’ Signe raised her hands to either side and let out a joyful breath.

Mishaal looked up, his face relieved. ‘Is that over? Can we go now?’

‘You’re not going anywhere until I know this guy’s safe.’ Luca marched to Beck’s stable.

A white face lifted in the darkness, eyes like black pearls.

Luca pressed his forehead to the bars with relief. He’d been in there all along, standing at his comfort blanket back wall. A belly roar of relief went up now, and Beck stormed across the shavings towards him. Then he stopped, throwing his head up, eyes huge.