In most other places in the castle, her arrival would prompt a flurry of salutes or bows, but here in the kitchens, everyone was engaged in their tasks: kneading dough, chopping herbs, cleaning the never ending supply of dirty plates. Here, and here alone, Chandni tolerated it. For though she was in charge of the castle, the kitchens were Roh’s domain.

A thick slab of sapphire protruded from a corner of the room, the air around it shimmering with heat. Energy from the suns fed the crystals beneath the castle, the warmth and light carried up through the walls like blood through veins. Here, the sapphire had been shaped flat with shallow depressions for placing pans and plates, and during the day something was always cooking on them.

She made her way over to the old cook, who was busy stirring a pot of thick sauce. ‘Good morning, Roh.’

‘Big day today, Honoured Mother.’

‘I trust you have something special prepared for the High Lord’s dinner.’

‘That I do, that I do. And I’ve got his favourite soup ready for lunch. You know our High Lord, always early.’

It was true. Not in the way that Chandni was early. She liked to arrive with time in hand, to ensure she was present at the appointed hour. For her it was about respecting others and being precise. Yadavendra, on the other hand, would be shockingly, monstrously early. It was one of the reasons Chandni had already dressed in her best clothes, as on a previous visit she’d still been changing when he’d arrived. The frantic rushing, the panic, it had made for some of the worst hours of her life.

Never again, she’d sworn to herself. I’d rather go out into the Wild.

The throwaway thought brought back true memories of the Wild, and she shuddered. And then, straight after, came memories of Varg. He’d been thrown into her life so suddenly, and then left it the same way. He’d made the Wild bearable, and he’d been devoted to her in a way that nobody else was. The staff here were all loyal, but they were loyal to her as a tool of House Sapphire and Lord Rochant. Varg was loyal to her personally.

Even though he serves Lady Pari, he wants to be with me.

She thought of his gruffness, his strength, his appalling language, and had to suppress a chuckle. Then she thought of other things, the ease at which he blushed in her presence, his hands massaging her feet, of them wandering elsewhere, his promise that he would pay off his debts to the Tanzanite and come to her. That had been sixteen years ago.

It was fantasy of course, but it was her fantasy, the only one she had, and she clung to it.

‘I imagine you have a lot on your mind, Honoured Mother, what with the High Lord on his way,’ said Roh.