It was so sweet. High and strange and sad, it seemed to come from all around them.

‘It’s the roses,’ Tomos breathed in awe. ‘The roses are singing.’

Seren clenched her fingers tight, because the sound was so wonderful. It was stranger than the music of the Tylwyth Teg, because it was made by petal and sepal, and its sound was the sound of raindrops and seeds that grow in darkness, and its words were secret and pure.

As if in answer, from the lake ripples began to lap against the grassy bank, as if something was swimming towards them out of the darkness.

The Swan was coming, and the Egg was broken!

‘What can we do?’ she whispered.

‘Nothing.’ The Crow looked devastated. It turned to face the lake. ‘Nothing at all.’

The swans swam silently out of the darkness, and their reflections shimmered on the moonlit water.

There were six white ones in a line; their proud necks dipped and their beaks were black and gold. They looked beautiful and her heart gave a little shiver at seeing them. Behind them, black even against the blackness of the trees, came the Midnight Swan.

Seren felt afraid.

She had never seen a swan so big, or so graceful. Around its neck hung a collar of diamonds, each jewel sparkling tiny rainbows of moonlight. The Swan’s eyes were dark and its beak was gold. And its gaze on her was cold and curious.

The swans arrived at the shore and their line parted, so that the black Swan could swim close to the shore. She looked at them all carefully, especially at the Crow.

‘Don’t I know you?’

The Crow cringed. ‘Yes, Majesty. I had the honour of meeting you here many years ago. When I … er … unfortunately…’

The Swan’s voice was icy. ‘I remember! You were the schoolmaster who stole my rose!’

‘I was.’

‘And you’ve found your way back here. Why?’

The Crow gulped. Then it drew itself up. ‘Because…’

But the Swan had caught sight of the Box, which Tomos was holding tightly in both hands.

‘What is that?’

It heaved itself out of the water and onto the bank, all its feathers dripping. This close it was terrifying; its beak hard and dangerous, its eyes flashes of temper. ‘That Box has my name on it. Why? And who are these children you’ve brought here?’

The Crow seemed too scared to speak.

Seren stepped forward. She was scared, too, but determined not to show it. ‘We came because he’s our friend and because it’s not fair that he should be trapped in a bird shape. And we brought you something that you asked for.’

The Swan’s face turned to her, zooming closer on its long neck. ‘You are a bold little creature.’