But this was the way the world was. It was deeper and stranger and scarier than she’d ever imagined, but it was real. To forget, to give up now, would just be giving in to her fear. And Alice’s father hadn’t raised her to give up.

You’ll be afraid, he’d told her once. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. The important thing is what you do about it.

‘What’s the other choice?’

‘You become my apprentice,’ Geryon said. ‘You work here, and I train you until you’re ready to defend yourself.’

‘How long will that be?’

‘Years. Maybe decades. And even when you’re trained, you’ll be a Reader, with all the dangers that implies. The mundane world will be closed to you for ever.’ He shook his head. ‘I know you did not ask for this, and I know it must be difficult for you. But there is no other way, I promise you.’

Alice’s brow furrowed, but in the end it wasn’t such a difficult choice after all. Forgetting about magic would mean forgetting the fairy in her kitchen, the last memories she had of her father, as well as giving up any chance of finding out what had really happened to him. If I train to be a Reader, then maybe . . .

‘I’ll do it,’ Alice said. ‘Be an apprentice, I mean.’

‘I thought you might.’ Geryon gave a little sigh. ‘Even now, you do not appreciate what may be required of you. Remember that the other option remains open, if you are ever inclined to give up. Or,’ he added, almost offhandedly, ‘if you fail.’

Chapter Eleven: The Sorcerer’s Apprentice

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE SORCERER’S APPRENTICE

Alice spent the rest of the day resting in her room. Meals were delivered to her door by the familiar invisible servants, and dirty dishes whisked away in the same fashion. Before she got into bed, she peeled off the bandages and looked at herself in the mirror. Her bruises were fading, and her cuts had scabbed over. The one on her cheek was still an angry red, cutting across her pale, freckled skin as straight as a ruler.

The following morning, when she smelled breakfast cooking downstairs and opened the door, she found a small grey cat sitting in the doorway. Alice frowned at him.

‘Ashes? What are you doing in the house?’

‘I’m being punished for my sins,’ the cat sighed. ‘Can I come in? We need to talk.’

‘I suppose.’ Ashes slunk past her ankles, and she shut the door behind him. ‘I ought to be angry with you, though.’

‘Why?’

‘What do you mean, why? You nearly got me killed!’

The cat hopped up on her bed. ‘I could say the same about you.’

‘That’s not fair. I didn’t even know what a Reader was, much less that I was one. At least I got us both out alive.’