‘My goodness.’ The Crow soared over the desk. ‘This is dreadful! This is a disaster!’

It was diving and flapping furiously at the invitations but there were too many and even as it snatched one and tore it to shreds dozens of others were streaming out of the window in a great long line. The Crow skidded to a halt on the sill and stared up at them hopelessly. Then a crafty glint came into its eye.

‘Hold tight! This will be uncomfortable!’ It took a breath and spoke a sentence. It sounded like a poem said backwards.

At once Seren felt all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. She had to gasp for breath. Her dressing gown turned inside out by itself and then back again. Her hair lifted and tingled round her scalp. All the doors in the room, even the smallest cupboards, opened and closed with a sudden clap!

The invitations shrivelled.

They turned black and rained from the ceiling like cinders.

The green pen gave a hopeless shiver. Then Seren realised she was holding nothing but green dust that seeped through her fingers onto the desk, with a gold trickle where the nib had been.

‘Got them!’ the Crow snapped, triumphantly. ‘HA!’

Seren sat breathlessly on the chair. ‘That was … amazing.’ She opened her fingers. The green dust powdered down onto the paper. ‘What is it? Dried leaves?’

‘Who knows. Who cares!’ The Crow paraded haughtily up and down the desk, leaving inky footprints on the paper and kicking invitations out of its way. ‘Whatever it was it couldn’t get the better of me! Did you see that! One word, one imperious command and BANG! Gone! Obliterated. DESTROYED!’

‘Yes,’ Seren said, ‘but…’

‘I mean, there’s not another person in Wales who could even come close. Not even that wizard down in Carmarthen. Or that wise woman in Bangor with the black cat who thinks she’s so…’

‘The pen was writing invitations,’ Seren said, in a very small voice. ‘And who knows how many it had already sent out.’

The Crow stopped in mid-stride. It swivelled its head and looked at her and for a moment they shared a look of horror.

The Crow groaned. ‘The Midsummer Ball! They will get in!’

Seren got up and ran to the window. ‘Can’t we stop it somehow?’

‘It’s too late! Who brought that wretched faery pen into the house? What IDIOT…’

‘Tomos. He thought it was Lady Mair’s. It’s not his fault.’

The Crow huffed and kek-kekked and stomped around the table. ‘Well, the fat’s in the fire now. We can’t stop Them coming. I…’

Seren jumped up. ‘Listen!’

Footsteps in the corridor.

Instantly, she dived under the desk. The Crow stood rigid by the inkwell.

The door opened and Mrs Villiers swept in carrying an oil lamp.

The housekeeper wore a long frilly blue dressing gown and her hair was curled in rags. Seren stifled a snort of laughter, and crouched lower, because if she was found how could she explain?