Satyendra smiled at her, but she did not feel reassured. In the half light his expression was ghoulish, and memories of his face – his other face – rose up from the depths. She had only seen it once, when he was a baby and they were on the Godroad returning home from the Wild. It had been enough: the image was seared into her mind forever. ‘And how many times have I told you I’m not like everyone else. I don’t like singing.’

‘That’s not the point and you know it. You should announce yourself, not sneak into other people’s chambers like a thief.’

The comment seemed to bounce off him without impact. ‘It’s very dark in here, Mother. What are you trying to hide?’

She took a moment to compose herself. Satyendra had a way of being able to get under her skin like nobody else. ‘I’m assuming you came here for something other than to torment me.’

He fell silent then, his dark eyes glittering with hurt, and into that silence poured guilt. She was letting her temper get the better of her and it was most unbecoming. None of this was Satyendra’s fault. It wasn’t right to take out her frustrations on him. He’d come to her for help and she was pushing him away. She forced down her other worries to give him her full attention. ‘I’m sorry. Let’s try this again. You wanted to talk. Is it about the rebirthing ceremony?’

‘Yes.’

‘Tell me.’

‘I think we need to postpone.’ She took a breath to dispute this but he was already pressing on with his argument. ‘I don’t know the legends well enough yet, and I need to get better at hunting and strategy and understanding the flow of trade. There’s so much still to learn and I have to be perfect, Mother, you know that. Nothing else will do. I’m Lord Rochant’s only chance to return so I have to get it right. So you have to send a message to High Lord Yadavendra and tell him to call off the Bringers. It’s too soon for the ceremony.’

‘This is really worrying you, isn’t it?’

He nodded quickly and she could see his eyes welling up. The sight of it choked her heart. ‘Come here,’ she said, opening her arms, and he flew into them. ‘Oh my poor, sweet Satyendra.’

‘I’m not good enough. I’m not ready. Don’t let them take me away.’