Although a canopy of high cloud loured over Bel’Esstar, it was not cool but oppressively warm. Orial trudged on across the heath that separated the Sanctuary from the city; the heath grasses were already parched for lack of rain and a thin, fine dust rose every time she put down her foot. Only a sulphur-leaved thistle thrived in this barren terrain: its vicious spines caught on Orial’s clothes and its burgeoning thistledown seemed to give off a faintly putrid odour. She felt alone and vulnerable; the sandy hollows could easily conceal predators waiting to prey on lone women making their way to the Sanctuary to visit their loved ones.

Who would hear her cries if she was attacked and dragged off the path?

The Guerriors on duty at the gate took Orial’s papers and escorted her into an ill-lit little room beside the gatehouse.

She stood waiting, listening, her heart thudding so loud she put one hand to her breast to try to still it.

Would they confiscate her papers? Would they detain her?

‘Demselle Magelonne! Whatever are you doing here?’

In the shadows of the bare room, his hair looked more dull pewter than silver – but the eyes, the blue eyes, were unmistakably those of Captain Acir Korentan.

‘I’ve come to see you, Captain.’ She glanced around her, hoping he would correctly interpret what she dared not ask aloud: Is it safe to talk here or shall we be overheard?

‘You must be tired after your journey from Sulien,’ Captain Korentan said courteously. ‘Can I offer you any refreshment?’

‘My throat is dry. I would appreciate something to drink.’

‘Please follow me.’

Nothing of any consequence had been spoken aloud between them. But he had understood. There was still, then, a spark of hope.

‘I heard that you were grievously sick.’ He stopped. ‘Forgive me. You are evidently recovered and I am delighted to see you in good health.’

‘That is why I am here. The Illustre was deported on my father’s complaint. My father –’ Orial hesitated. ‘My father acted in haste. He regrets what has happened.’

‘Then why is he not here?’

‘I have come myself to prove his accusations unfounded. I am well, I am whole. There is no complaint against the Illustre.’

‘No complaint in Sulien. But here –’ His fingers finished the sentence with an expressive gesture.

Orial had feared such a reply. And yet she still sensed a subtle alteration in Captain Korentan’s attitude. She felt she could test him a little further.

‘He is here, isn’t he?’

Korentan nodded.

‘May I see him?’

‘He is not allowed visitors.’

Orial took up the cup of water and drank.

‘This is a terrible place,’ she said softly. He nodded in reply. When she looked up, she saw that his eyes had darkened as if in pain.

‘The Diva is here with me,’ she said. ‘Could you not make an exception in his case?’