Lady Mair laughed. ‘You’re enjoying that.’

‘We never had puddings in the orphanage.’ Seren said it absently, and was surprised to find the remark produced an awkward silence.

‘Oh dear,’ Lady Mair said. ‘That is so sad.’

Seren glanced at Tomos, He had looked down at his dish when she mentioned the orphanage. What was going on? And did Tomos know about it?

‘Well, I’ve started on the invitations to the ball.’ Lady Mair smoothed out a corner of the tablecloth. ‘It’s going to be the most splendid thing we’ve had here for years. I’m going to need your help later, you know, planning the children’s games and the high tea.’

Tomos nodded.

‘Will we get to hear the music?’ Seren said wistfully. ‘And watch the dancing?’

‘I don’t see why not.’ Lady Mair stood up. ‘Have a good afternoon. Are you going out?’

‘To the lake,’ Tomos said.

A small frown furrowed his mother’s eyes. ‘Oh. Do be careful. Perhaps Denzil…’

‘We’ll be fine.’ Tomos grinned. ‘Honestly.’

When his mother was gone, he jumped up. ‘Come on, Seren! Finish that and let’s go. I’m dying to hear what story the Crow is going to make up this time.’

Seren licked the last morsel and rattled the spoon in the dish. ‘Tomos,’ she said. ‘They’re not going to send me away, are they?’

He stared at her, amazed. ‘Of course not! What ever made you think that? This is your home now.’

‘But there’s something going on.’

Tomos laughed and ran for the door. ‘You and your imagination! I’m going to get my sun hat. See you there.’

He ran out leaving the door open, and Lily came in and began clearing the dishes. ‘Have you finished with that, bach?’

‘Oh yes. Diolch, Lily.’

Still, she sat for a moment wondering. Tomos had laughed. But it hadn’t been like his usual laugh.

Not at all.

Denzil was in the hall, mopping the tiles. She walked carefully round the wet bits.

‘You’ll have a lot of work with this Ball,’ she said.

Denzil stopped. He looked up at her and she was surprised at how dark and grave his face was.

‘That’s not what worries me.’

‘What?’

‘Use your head, bach. Who is it that loves dancing and music? Who is that wants only to enter the Plas and fill it with Their magic?’

Seren stared. She took a step closer. ‘The Tylwyth Teg? But…’

‘The Plas all lit up and music everywhere?’ Denzil frowned. ‘Oh, They’ll be crowding outside, girl. You wait and see. They’ll be so hungry to get in. That’s dangerous.’

‘Don’t worry, Denzil. You’ve got your iron horseshoes up and yarrow and all sorts of protection. They can’t get past that.’

‘No.’ He swished the mop in the bucket. ‘Not unless They are invited. And who would be doing that?’

Seren nodded. She ran out into the brilliant sunshine. The afternoon was already hot, a scorch of butterflies. She turned a cartwheel, but it was too hot for that, so she wandered lazily over the green grass to the door in the garden wall, and through the flower beds of the sunken garden, brushing the tips of the blooms with her fingers so that the perfume of lavender and phlox and honeysuckle mingled with the drowsy buzz of bees.