Oh yes, thought Satyendra. I have heard the story of Lord Rochant dying of a broken heart. What a charming way to dress up a death. Did you take your own life I wonder, or were the circumstances so embarrassing that you made up this nonsense to cover it?

‘There are many stories about my loyalty, and I am famed for the counsel I have given House Sapphire, but there are few stories about my heart. I tell you this because I want you to know that I am not perfect, nor am I without passion. Do not be ashamed of your feelings. However dark your thoughts may be, they do not need to come between us.’

A bark of laughter escaped Satyendra’s lips. He couldn’t help it. It echoed around the chamber, and by the time the sound was fading away, he could see the Bringers of Endless Order walking towards him again, like some diamond-toothed mouth closing on its prey. He didn’t like the way they looked at him, nor the glint of bright green eyes within the masks. They see too clearly for my taste.

The lead Bringer held out their hand for the message crystal and Satyendra was happy to be relieved of it. Then they escorted him deeper into the chamber. Slowly they spiralled towards the centre. Occasionally the light from their wands would catch the side of a wide, dull pillar, or the edge of a curving wall, but otherwise there was nothing but black all around him, pillars disappearing into an illusion of vastness, his imagination conjuring a space far larger than the castle could contain.

Though it felt like they would walk forever, they soon came to the chamber’s centre. Seven triangular bricks formed a circle in the floor, with a slab of stone laid on top of it, long enough for him to stretch out on. He saw thick straps and thicker buckles set at intervals along the slab, and froze mid-step.

This was it. It was real and it was happening to him right now. I am going to die here. Uselessly, his brain thought of all the times he could have run away, the opportunities he’d squandered. But now he was sealed in by heavy stone. There was nowhere else to go, his options funnelling down until all that was left was to choose the manner of his death.

‘I don’t want to,’ he said.

The Bringers said nothing, just watched him from beneath their hoods.

‘Let me out.’ He knew it was futile but a part of him didn’t care. He wanted more time! He wanted to taste his favourite foods again, to run free across the courtyard, to compete with his friends. He’d even enjoy sitting with Ban for more stories, or spending time with his mother. There was so much he’d never told her.

‘Let me out!’ he repeated, louder this time.