When Sapphire traced the outline of the scar on her palm, Claye’s eyes flicked to her hand, and he arched an eyebrow again before rushing to scribble more on the paper.

‘Sapphire, have your eyes always been … the shade they are currently?’

‘No. They’re usually brown.’

He nodded before tucking his notebook into a satchel.

‘Thank you for answering my questions. Regretfully, I do not have the authority to release you from this cell, but I will talk to the constable to see if we can move you somewhere more … comfortable.’ He scrunched his nose like he was finally noticing how dirty the surroundings were. ‘I am going to report my findings to the king and queen, and I will be back with an update as soon as I have one.’

‘What?’ Her voice broke. ‘What findings?’

But he was already outside the cell and locking the door.

‘Please! Don’t leave me here.’

She sounded like a child, and he looked at her with more sympathy than she expected – but he still walked away. Hot tears flooded her eyes, and soon she started to sob again. She buckled over, fear and anger and exhaustion spilling out of her with every strangled breath.

She wanted Witrotean. She wanted to give Susanna her extra quilt. She wanted to find a tree that leaked sweet water and bring it home as a surprise. She wanted to thank Martia for her guidance. She wanted to provide for the Home again.

But wishes were fickle things, she knew that.

And long after her tears had stopped, she lay on the bench, staring into the darkness.

A gentle hand stirred her from her latest dream and she smiled.

A gentle hand.

Martia.

The vision was over. But as she peeled open her eyes, a soft cry escaped her throat. Claye’s grey eyes were staring back at her. She scrambled away from him.

‘Sorry if I scared you. But it’s time to leave.’

She blinked a few times, the lingering ghost of Martia’s touch making it hard to be present.

‘Where am I going?’

‘You’ve been summoned by the king and queen.’

CHAPTER THREE

The same two guards were waiting for her as she came out of the cell. They moved to strong-arm her, but Claye lifted a hand, insisting they let her walk freely. It was a small act of kindness, and she was grateful for it.

Claye moved with ease as they walked through the castle.

‘What type of magic can you do?’

She knew she shouldn’t ask that question. She had never been one for small talk, but despite her anger and fear, she was fascinated by the idea of magic. Claye gave her a warm smile, opening his palm and extending his hand to her.

She flinched as he twisted his fingers slightly, a cold breeze dancing over her skin.

‘How –?’