She hoped the message from Ancelstierre was going to offer her the possibility of escape from all the attention. In Sabriel’s absence, it was her duty to deal with any Dead or Free Magic creatures, though admittedly the Abhorsen and the King had only consented to go on holiday—to the island of Ilgard—because everything had been largely quiet for the last six months.

Lirael was very eager to take up her duty. Any duty. She still keenly felt the loss of the Disreputable Dog, and being busy was an excellent way to not dwell on that. Or on the difficulties of adapting to a whole new life as the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, with a much older half-sister who was also now her mentor. Though she greatly respected Sabriel, Lirael was also very much in awe of her, and could not easily talk to her about anything other than the work they shared.

Then there was her nephew Sameth and niece Ellimere, though she could never think of them that way, since she was only a little older in years and felt considerably younger in terms of experience with the world. Just being suddenly a part of the ruling family of the Old Kingdom was an almost overwhelming challenge, particularly for someone like Lirael, who was used to spending a great deal of time alone, or in companionable silence with her dear dog.

Now it was nearly impossible for her to be alone, even for a few minutes. The previous six months had been occupied with recovering from her wounding; beginning to learn how to wield the seven bells of the Abhorsen and all the associated magics that went with that art (something she now realized would go on for her entire life; it was not the sort of thing you could ever entirely know); having her replacement hand fitted and fine-tuned, which took absolutely hours; going along with the bare minimum of social activity organized for her by Ellimere, who did not at all behave like a dutiful niece but much more like a bossy, matchmaking sister; and just trying to fit in with a busy family who knew one another very well.

The messenger girl who was leading the way turned at the top of the stairs and held her finger to her lips.

“Um, please remember to speak quietly and walk slowly,” she said nervously. “So as not to disturb the hawks.”

“I know,” whispered Lirael. She had some experience with the hawks in the Clayr’s mews, high in the rocky peak of Sunfall above the glacier, and she had also visited Mistress Finney’s domain before.

The falconer raised a hand in greeting to Lirael as she climbed the last few steps and emerged into the long room, half open to the sky, the shutters all pulled back to allow easy access for the hawks. The rain had eased and the clouds parted, and the warmish, weak sunshine of early spring was pouring in, a welcome light after the winter’s darkness.