They had been installed for several days in the Diva’s riverside residence, the Villa of Yellow Vines, days which had been filled with writing letters and petitions on Khassian’s behalf. This morning the Commanderie carriage had arrived without warning to escort the Diva to the Winter Palace. The invitation – to attend upon the Prince at his levee – was most pressing. The Guerriors would not even wait for the Diva to change into a costume more fitting for the occasion.

Since then, there had been no word and Orial had fretted away the hours alone. The housekeeper had brought her some lunch; she had tried to eat but felt so sick with apprehension that she only managed to swallow a spoonful or two of the delicious iced tea-cream dessert.

The Diva must have been arrested. That was the only explanation for so long an absence. All her plans had been aborted before there was time to put them into action.

There came a distant rattle of hoofs over gravel. Orial sped to the open window, leaning far out over the vine-covered sill. A carriage drew up at the gates; a man climbed out.

‘Diva!’ cried Orial.

She ran down the stairs and flung open the door to greet him, hugging him tight.

‘Such effusion!’ said Cramoisy. ‘Anyone would think you had not seen me in years.’

‘What happened? Why were you gone so long? Did you see the Prince?’

Cramoisy sank into a fauteuil and kicked off his shoes.

‘My ankles are quite swollen with standing so long. Court levees are a terrible trial on the legs, carissa,’ His voice was hoarse with strain.

‘But did you see Prince Ilsevir?’

‘His Royal Highness was gracious enough to grant me an audience. We agreed that I will make my confession before the court in the royal chapel. He wanted me to sing an aria or two from Talfieri’s new oratorio The Path of Thorns,’ Cramoisy made a little moue of disgust. ‘I was almost glad to tell him that my voice is ruined for I cannot abide the man’s music. And do you know, Orial, what Ilsevir then said to me?’

‘No…’

‘“We shall pray together for your voice to be restored. Perhaps the Blessed Mhir will restore your voice as He restored me to health.” ‘Cramoisy pulled a grimace. ‘I preferred Ilsevir as he was before – this sanctimoniousness makes me queasy.’

‘But what of Khassian?’

‘Ilsevir would not talk of him. I know he heard what I said. We may yet achieve something…’ There was a slight tic at the corner of Cramoisy’s left eye; the strain of the encounter had not left him unscathed. ‘And you’ll never guess who I saw as the carriage was driving through the Winter Gardens?’

Orial shook her head.

‘Captain Korentan! Striding along with a face as dark as thunder.’

‘Captain Korentan?’ Orial said consideringly. ‘Maybe he would help us. Maybe I should go in search of him…’