Alice felt nauseous. Had any moment she’d spent with Grace been real? Or had they all been a part of the priestess’ plan to infiltrate her defences and manipulate her into releasing her dormant magic?

Images of the time she and Grace had spent together flashed before her eyes. Moments of laughter midway through intense training sessions, falling asleep together after difficult days, midnight feasts, laughing so hard they could barely breathe… And then there were those moments she couldn’t bear to think about, the moments when she felt sure that Grace had wanted something more, the moments that kept her awake at night: when their hands brushed all too often, when Grace spent a little too long gazing at Alice’s lips. All of those times she had woken up drenched in sweat after dreaming about Grace doing things to her she wasn’t even sure were possible…

Were they bonded at all? Was every moment, every gaze, every almost-kiss founded on misinformation and betrayal? Had everything been a lie?

Alice fought back tears. This is what comes of being vulnerable, she thought: pain and betrayal.

‘Guards, you know what to do.’ The priestess waved a nonchalant hand and disappeared out through a hidden doorway behind the altar. Alice was manhandled and dragged kicking and screaming from the room, terrified about them taking her back to the dungeons.

Instead, the guards deposited her at her bedroom door, dropping her on the cold stone floor and disappearing into the shadows. Her muscles felt like they were bleeding, but she managed to pick herself up and, sobbing, drag herself into her safe haven.

As she crossed over the threshold, a blurry figure rushed towards her, sobbing uncontrollably. It was Grace.

‘Alice, what did they do to you? What did she say? Are you all right?’ Grace bombarded her with question after question. All Alice could do was stand there, arms firmly stuck to her sides, until Grace unfurled herself and limped backwards, staring at Alice in confusion.

Her left eye was overcome by a blackened bruise that was shimmering on her dull, usually glowing, skin. There was still a crust of dried blood around her nostrils and on her top lip. Her thick russet hair was unkempt and wild. Instead of her usual loose shirt and trousers, she was dressed in just a white floor-length nightgown. There were charred marks on her collarbones, her throat, her wrists. She looked like a ghost, intent on haunting.

‘Is it true that the High Priestess told you to get close to me? To gain my trust?’ Alice’s voice was shaky, but strong. She would not be lied to.

‘No, Alice, no. Don’t believe her. She was trying to trigger a reaction and she saw that I was the way to make you break. In the beginning, I was assigned to be your guardian, yes, but that was because I begged, on my hands and knees, when we returned from the journey to collect you. I went in there and I threw myself at her feet and I begged to be appointed as your Protector. I couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering alone. I couldn’t leave you to deal with this on your own, Alice.’