It was as she slowed to grasp the perch that one of the guards spotted her and pointed with a shout. Her wings fluttered against the air as she braked, hovering for a moment before closing her claws on the scored wooden bar. There was nothing that they could do to her from down there: if they’d had a gun, or even a bow and arrow, it’d be a different story. Those with the battering ram renewed their efforts. The others, after gawping up at her, pressed their backs close to the tower’s wall in case she swooped at them.

The doors in front of her needed hands to open properly. She leant forward to peck at them, her sharp beak rattling the bolts. That didn’t work, but there were other ways to get in. She started a more concerted jabbing and scratching as she tried to break her way through. Every time she pushed, the crack between the doors widened, and she could see flickers of what was inside: a splash of red, a line of silver, something deep green. She kept on, battering at the doors, using her size and her lightning-fast kicks to weaken the fastenings.

And all of a sudden, they gave, and the doors swung open, banging against their jambs. Her keen eyes noted all the places inside the room within – bed, table, wall-hangings, boxes, wood, brass, bone, cloth, light, shadow – and finally rested on the woman standing in the centre, leaning heavily on a stick.

She was dressed in white and gold, her skirts down to the floor, her sleeves as far as her hands. Almost weddingy, but her expression – her whole purple-bruised and black-blooded cut face – held no celebration.

‘Have you come for me?’ asked the woman.

Mary’s gaze skittered behind her to the intricate metal machines set up on benches around the circumference of the room, and didn’t answer. She turned her head in short, sharp jerks to take it all in.

‘What are you waiting for?’ The woman’s voice was sharp, used to being obeyed. Mary knew the type. Her neck feathers prickled.

She could just about squeeze in. She’d be at a sudden, and huge, disadvantage. No room to stretch her wings, her head forced against the ceiling, difficult to raise her talons in front of her. Difficult to leave in a hurry, too. The boom-boom-boom echoing up the tower told her that the guards hadn’t broken in yet, but also that it was only a matter of time until they did.