I didn’t mean to burn the stables down, but I was angry. At Mother. I was so angry! But oh, how those horses screamed.

She could hear them again, as if the flames carried their voices in triumph, lifting them into the night amidst all the sparks and smoke. She saw poor Wreneck, so young, all covered in soot and scorch marks, his hair crisp and crumbling, his eyes filling with tears as he fought against Jinia’s grip, as he tried to run back into the stables to save the horses.

And how Orfantal stood off to one side, still in his nightclothes, staring at Wreneck with one small fist pressed up against his mouth.

Shush, Wreneck. It’s too late for them. Too late for everyone.

And Mother spinning round to glare at the stable boy. ‘This was your fault, wretch! Listen to those screams, child! You killed them all!’ And then she marched forward, raising her cane. And the blows rained down, upon Wreneck’s head, and Jinia’s forearms and shoulders, and all Sandalath could do was stand, frozen, helpless, hearing the cane striking flesh and bone, staring at Orfantal who watched it all but understood nothing.

Hush, my son. The screams are only in your head. It’s done with, now. Just the flames and their eager roar.

She reached the door. The latch was loose and almost fell away from the wood panel, and the door swung easily.

‘Lord Draconus! I knew you would return! It was the Azathanai, setting fire to the stables – can’t you hear the horses screaming? Oh, please, stop it now – stop all of this—’

He reached for her, lifted her from her feet – she’d not known him to be so tall, big as a giant. But hostages were always young. It was being young that made them precious, so Lord Anomander told her, laughing as he wheeled her through the air, and how she squealed her delight, safe for ever in his strong hands.

But now she hung suspended in the air, in a chamber with its stone walls gouged deep on all sides, as if clawed by a trapped beast. With more rents crisscrossing the wooden floorboards, with the ceiling beams looking chewed, shredded.

She felt something like a fist curl in her belly, low down, and it grew. Back arching, Sandalath gasped as her clothes stretched, as she swelled, skin tightening. Galdan! Look what we did! I didn’t know! Mother is furious with me! She says it’s a snake – a snake inside me, and it’s growing!

Fluids spilled from between her legs. She saw Draconus, looming before her, his face twisted in something like helpless frustration. She felt one of his hands reaching down, reaching in, and dragging the baby out.

She watched as he lifted the thing between them, and saw immediately that it was lifeless, a slick, red doll with flopping limbs. Snarling, he flung it away.

Another fist made a knot in her belly, began growing.