But then the fairies vanished, frightened away by the white ravens that appeared in their place, vicious creatures with gleaming red eyes full of hatred, and Beatrice knew that Rosa had sent them. She tried to shoo the birds away as they swooped at her, but her arms were like lead, her entire body refusing to obey her commands. When the birds realised she couldn’t move, they flocked about her on the freezing roof. Beatrice tried to shout for help, but her voice was a wisp with no power in it at all, and who would come to her aid anyway? She had made all the wrong choices in her life, each stemming from that one dreadful act of cowardice when she’d been summoned to her mother’s deathbed. And if there was no one to help her now, then it was no more than she deserved.

Still, she wept as the white ravens tore pieces of flesh from her legs, gobbling them down like starving creatures until the bones had been picked entirely clean and she was a skeleton from the waist down, never to walk or run or dance again. And perhaps never to see again, either, as the birds started on her eyes next, digging their sharp beaks into the jellied softness, knowing she could not lift a finger to stop them.

Then the door to the roof opened and James was there, and Beatrice realised that one of her eyes at least must be mostly intact because she could see the angry expression on his face: the way his mouth was a hard, thin line and his eyes were shards of flint. She supposed he had returned to berate her – about the plum trees, or Rosa, or the wish – and she tried to speak, to beg him not to do so when she was feeling so sad about the loss of her legs, but her lips were sealed together. Perhaps blood from her eyes had trickled down there and frozen. All of a sudden she realised how very cold it was.

The white ravens scattered as James walked through them. He dropped down by her side to gather her up in his arms.

‘Curse that imbecile doctor,’ he muttered. ‘I wish I could take a strap to him.’

She wanted to tell him about the ravens, but the words simply wouldn’t come. Her entire body trembled with the shock of seeing her legs eaten away and she could only whimper for the hideousness of the loss.

James straightened up and walked towards the door.

‘It’s all right, Beatrice.’ His voice was gentle. ‘We will soon have you warm. All will be well.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT