She pulled her black velvet dress down over her shoulders and struggled to tie the fastenings around the back. Where was Grace when she needed her? Underneath her dress, she tied the laces of her boots. They were made from soft and supple leather, well-worn, perfect for running, and comfortably hugged her calves, ending at her bony knees. She didn’t know why she thought of running in that moment, but something made her feel like she might need to do that today. The only problem was that she didn’t know if she was going to be running towards something, or running away. The unease of that thought made her stop to fasten a knife to her thigh, hidden by the folds of her dress.

Just in case.

She smoothed her dress down in the mirror and brushed her hair, before pinning half of it up into a braid that crowned her head. The rest of her hair fell in a shimmering waterfall to her waist. Alice couldn’t help but notice the changes she’d experienced, for they showed themselves on her face. The girl in the mirror was an entirely different person to the girl that had been stolen away on a rainy night all those weeks ago. It was true, the blue-black bruise that circled her right eye eliminated any chance of Alice looking completely restored, but she certainly had gained a lustre that had previously been absent.

Turning away from the mirror, Alice jumped as her door was flung open, the lock that secured it now hanging loose, obsolete. Two of the priestess’ guards stood silhouetted in the doorway, wearing her symbol around their necks. She recognised one of the women as the toad-faced Blayne, whom she’d met on her first day. Their eyes were lined with thick black kohl and on their faces they wore twin expressions of hatred and disgust. Alice searched their eyes for mercy, but found nothing. Together, the two women strode forward and grabbed an arm each, fastening Alice’s wrists together with heavy rope. They didn’t speak, they didn’t offer an explanation or even question her, they just dragged her out of her room and into the darkened corridor.

‘Where are you taking me? What’s going on?’ Alice demanded, no longer shy or reserved, as she had been on her arrival. The women escorting her stayed silent. The one on her left, the taller of the two, simply looked Alice dead in the eye and snarled. They were taking her to see Hecate Winter, the High Priestess, that much was sure. Grace had told her that occasionally they’d hear of a girl who’d digressed from her training or who had displayed transgressive behaviour being escorted, like Alice was now, to the great hall. The girl, more often than not, was never seen again.

But Alice hadn’t done anything wrong. Had she?

She barely had time to wrack her brains over what she could have done. She was dragged through the hallways and corridors and then through the open doors into the great hall. They flung her onto her hands and knees, ignoring her cries and her struggles. Her dress was covered in dust and grime from being dragged relentlessly and her once-neat hair had fallen from its pins. Everything ached.