‘No, I think not, brother. I’ve done little thus far. Made use of a weak mind, too fragile for this or any world. No. This is between Draconus and me.’

‘I did not know you parted with such vehemence.’

‘We didn’t. Until his servants betrayed me. I gave of myself. I made a gift. I took into myself a tortured soul, and brought it peace. For this blessing, that soul’s companions delivered terrible pain.’ She paused, and then waved the hand a second time. ‘Look about you, Caladan. See how even your gift to Draconus has been twisted. Those who would stand near him – each and all will end up suffering.’

Caladan Brood tilted his head as he regarded her. ‘You have cursed him.’

‘He curses himself!’ The scream was an eruption of flames, transforming the chamber into an inferno. She then laughed. ‘Best leave now, brother!’

‘And your daughters?’

‘I will drive them out – is that not enough? Leave their fate to their father – he deserves no less!’

Nodding, Caladan Brood strode into the flames, making for the front doors. The fire sought to devour him, only to flinch back on all sides. This demanded some effort on the High Mason’s part. With each step he took, the flagstones cracked beneath him.

* * *

The flames curled strangely as they edged round the corner ahead. Envy slowed her painful steps. Those are not mine. But not real either. This is another kind of sorcery. I feel it, like a well-fount – reeking of my essence, but far worse. She stared as the fire twisted upon itself, formed a face in ceaseless motion, as if every expression was nothing more than a mask beneath which raged some undeniable heat. Truths. What the skin hides.

A woman’s face, now smiling, now speaking. ‘Oh, look at you. Naughty girls – you gave me Malice, but not the living child, whom I would have protected. No, the undecided child. Held between life and death by your father’s protective spells. Of course, he sought only to keep you free of the risk of death, knowing well the wildness of your spirits.’ Her smile broadened. ‘As ever, he meant well. What parent does not dread outliving their children? But then you broke her neck.’

‘Not me! It was Spite!’

‘There are two chambers to the heart, child, and so you were named in answer to your twin sister. Meaning, you two are in truth one, bitterly divided in the hopes of weakening your power. But poor Malice, who came after, what was left to her? Denied a place, denied a home… what other name could attend such a child?’

‘It was an accident, Mother! An accident!’