It had, like the gate and the door, improved itself. From the trough that had contained the run of water before, it had become a circular pool. The water poured out of a stone spout at one side, and out again at the other, into a gutter that carried it through the now-impressive wall.

Even though she knew she shouldn’t, once she’d drunk her fill of cold, clear spring water so that it sat heavy and potent in her belly, she levered herself up and slid into the pool, pushing herself up and over the rim.

She held her face just over the surface of the water, while it soaked up her arms and legs. It wasn’t deep. It barely came to her elbows. But it was enough. She pressed her head down and turned it side to side, wetting her hair and scalp, watching the water tint pink in front of her wide-open eyes.

Then she rolled on to her back, spreading her arms wide and letting her body float. The water around her, constantly refreshed, gradually grew clearer as she lay there, her clothes once again becoming loose about her, rather than stuck to her skin. With her arms up, only the oval of her face – eyes, nose, mouth and chin – was above the rippling surface. She reached under for the boilersuit’s zip and dragged it down, easing her arms out one at a time, and pulled it down to her waist.

It wouldn’t come. It was stuck against something on her back. And yet when she tugged, it didn’t hurt. It just didn’t move.

The material was too tough for her to tear. She didn’t have a knife, though Crows might have left something in the castle. She couldn’t see her back anyway.

She gave up and tried to sit. Even that simple task seemed almost beyond her. She felt so weak, it took an age to manage upright. Something broke the water behind her, distinctly, long after she did.

She didn’t dare turn around. As the coldness of the water faded and the warmth of the late afternoon air touched her, she realised that there was something clinging to her back, hanging between her shoulder blades, heavy and wet. She sat very still, screwing her eyes up so that she wasn’t even tempted.

She shifted slightly, and the weight shifted with her, slow and large.

She couldn’t sit there all day. She couldn’t avoid whatever it was. She had no weapons, but she did have magic. What good that might be against something that held her so close without her noticing until now was only ever going to be a guess.

She opened her eyes and turned her head slightly, her gaze falling on the frayed strap of her top, her bruised brown skin, the slope of her shoulder, and the tawny ridge of feathers behind.