‘I see he is already focused on the task ahead,’ added Yadavendra. ‘Good.’ He reached out a hand towards her son’s shoulder and Chandni was uncomfortably reminded of the last time the High Lord had been close to her. ‘This will be a great day for you, your family, and our house.’

‘Don’t touch me,’ said Satyendra.

The hunters’ eyes widened, their hands tightening on their weapons.

Yadavendra’s hand paused mid-air.

Even the Bringers broke off their private deliberations to look over.

Outwardly, Chandni maintained an appearance of calm. Pretend everything is fine. Don’t give him a reason to be angry. Think, Chandni! Say something before someone else does.

‘Don’t,’ said Satyendra a second time, glaring up at the High Lord with barely concealed malice.

The moment stretched out, Yadavendra’s gauntleted hand hovering in the air above Satyendra. To touch her son now would appear wrong, and yet to lower his hand, to not follow the gesture through to completion, would seem like weakness.

‘Please, my High Lord,’ said Chandni, finding her words at last. ‘Satyendra is filling his mind with thoughts of Lord Rochant. He must stay focused. I fear his love for you is such that your presence is overwhelming him.’

Yadavendra’s fingers curled into a fist, which shook, as if he was considering bringing it down on her son’s head. ‘I see. Then I will leave you to your task. Know that I have faith in you, young Satyendra. You will succeed.’ He looked at Chandni, making it feel as if he had delivered a threat rather than an endorsement.

She bowed quickly, pressing herself against the wall as his crystal wings cut the air in front of her nose.

Two of Yadavendra’s hunters went with him, while the other two assumed positions in the corridor, positions that should have been taken by her guards. She could see the potential clash of egos, adding it to the list of things to resolve.

The clump of Bringers opened out into a semicircle, like a great rustling hand preparing to wrap itself around Satyendra.

‘Does the Honoured Vessel have any last words?’ asked one.

Satyendra glanced back at Chandni, his eyes cold and dark. ‘No.’

She watched as the Bringers closed the circle around him, trying to form a memory before he was snatched from view. The great door opened, a heavy disc of stone that swung ponderously, silently. It was dark inside, and the Bringers entered that darkness, the black half of their robes vanishing quickly, the white half shortly after. And then they were gone, and the door closed behind them. Her guards moved forward and sealed it shut. There was no way to open it from the inside. Either the Bringers would give the signal that all was well or it would remain locked, a tomb for an abomination.