‘I know a secret. It’s about your father.’

Stop it. Be quiet. She moved, then; stuck her fingers in her ears. Her arms hurt when she lifted them. And she needed to piss, but there was no privy down here. Imagine being rescued with your skirt all wet and smelly. Imagine being taken to the Otherworld like that; think of the mockery.

‘I know a secret. I know what he’s building!’ the little voice announced.

Tell me. Tell me now. Cara clenched her teeth. Even with her ears stopped she could hear the taunting voice. No friend at all. The kindly words, the promises of comfort were lies. She had to find a way out.

‘Your father’s a liar, a liar, a liar! And you’re a pretender, pretender, pretender!’ It had become a song.

Tears came to Cara’s eyes. This wasn’t fair. It was cruel. Her father was a good man. Even if he was sometimes strict, even if he made her do things she didn’t want to do, he loved her and wanted the best for her. He never acted without good reason. Of course he wasn’t a liar.

‘Your whole life is a lie, Cara. It was a lie from the moment you were born.’

Cara’s heart went cold. This was a different voice, fey like the other, but much deeper and far, far more frightening. It scared her so much that words came out despite her best efforts. ‘Don’t say that! You don’t know anything!’ It was a whisper; for the space of a breath she hoped the owner of that voice had not heard.

‘I speak the truth.’ If a wolf could speak in words, its voice would be like this: dark, wild, full of trickery. ‘Ask your father why he is building his heartwood house again. Ask him why he needs protection. Who is the enemy? Who is the threat? Or does the danger come from within?’

‘You’re talking in riddles,’ Cara whispered, unable to let this pass. ‘First you try to tempt me with promises, then you accuse my father. What do you want?’

‘Ah.’ The tone changed again, softening, sweetening. ‘Only for you to take a step, and another, and a third. Only for you to look in the mirror. Only for you to be where you belong, Bird Girl.’ This voice was pure honey; it was the loveliest song of a lark high in the sky; it was the softness of down on the breast of a dove. It was sunlight and rippling water and the sigh of wind in the leaves. A person would need a heart of stone to resist such a voice.

Blackthorn. Remember what Blackthorn said. Use what is already there. But what was here, far underground? Earth. Rock. Little blind things that lived in the dark. Spiders, crawling insects. Creatures that lived among deep roots. Ah! Maybe there was help here after all.