From a distance, with the hood up, Pik passed easily for Satyendra. Chandni spoke as they walked, giving the impression that the two were discussing important matters, Honoured Mother to Honoured Vessel, and that they were not to be interrupted. That would be enough to keep most away, and she’d taken steps to make sure that the few others with the authority to approach, like Roh and Ban, were occupied elsewhere.

Despite the meticulous planning, Chandni knew that it would only take one piece of bad luck for her deception to be uncovered, especially on a day when the High Lord was visiting. She may as well worry about the castle falling from the sky for all the good it would do.

Not even I can plan for Yadavendra.

However, no High Lords ambushed her, no one moved out of place, and she and Pik arrived safely at the Chrysalis Chamber.

Sunslight poured in through the glass wall, a physical force sparking sweat and slowing thought. She wondered what such intense conditions must do to the Gardener-smiths’ minds.

Entering, they were confronted by an imperfect form of blue crystal assembled opposite them on a stand. This was the replacement set for Lord Rochant’s armour. The previous set had vanished around the same time the Deathless had been kidnapped, its whereabouts a mystery. There was armour sufficient to identify the body and limbs, but there were gaps the sapphire had not yet been coaxed to fill, and while it was approximately the right size, it did not yet seem to live in the way a finished suit did.

When Lord Rochant was reborn, he would don this armour. Each piece was grown alongside its vessel so that it would fit perfectly. The trouble was that contact with the crystal seemed to cause Satyendra physical pain. His skin would pale and bubble, losing its colour, and his face would—

No. None of them could stand that. She hoped that when Lord Rochant’s soul took residence it would purge all traces of the Wild from the body, and all evidence that her son had been corrupted. Until then, however, the armour still needed to be grown and so Chandni had come up with another solution: Pik.

Only one Gardener-smith was here and she didn’t look happy about it. As Pik began slipping off his clothes, she came over to Chandni, rubbing her hands together like a nervous Flykin.

‘How much longer?’

‘This may well be the last time. The High Lord is coming. If he is happy with Satyendra then the rebirth will happen immediately. Wrath’s Tear is in ascendance and we don’t want to miss the opportunity.’

‘And if he isn’t happy?’

‘Then it will wait until he is.’

‘But—’