They clung to the trunks of the trees and glided across the surface of the snow, leaving smooth, dark trails behind them. Rosa assumed they were simply random swirls and whirls to begin with, but then she looked closer and her breath caught in her throat. The snails were writing poetry – gilded words sparkled in the snow, whispering of opals and orchids, wishes and stars.

‘Remarkable,’ she breathed. Even though they were in competition, she could not help but feel a sense of wonder, along with the instinctive urge to share the enjoyment of the moment with someone else – but the only other person there was Eustace, and he was frowning up at the sky rather than looking down at the snails. Rosa turned back to the poems, already melting into the snow before her.

‘Rosa.’ Eustace’s voice sounded strained. ‘What is that up there in the trees?’

She straightened up and tipped her head back to look into the sky. It had started to snow again and large flakes fell into her eyes and gathered in her lashes. She saw only the skeletal branches of the trees to begin with, but then there was a flicker of something flitting from one branch to another and the unmistakeable rustle of wings as more dark shapes emerged from the darkness. Could they be birds, or perhaps bats? But then she picked out the billowing edge of a tiny fur-trimmed cloak, the flash of a buckle on a sparkling slipper, the flying tumble of long, dark curls.

‘Oh my goodness,’ she exclaimed. ‘Those are—’

‘You bitch! You said you locked them away.’

‘What?’ Rosa tore her eyes from the sky to glare at him. ‘What are you talking about?’

The look on his pale face appalled her. There was a wildness there and his eyes darted about too fast. ‘The ravens,’ he breathed out the word fearfully, as if it was a curse that could bring the birds flocking down upon him.

‘Those aren’t ravens,’ Rosa replied. ‘Do you hear any clockwork? They’re—’

But that was as far as she got before Eustace lunged towards her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Rosa stumbled back, but Eustace wasn’t aiming for her. With the end of his cane he smashed her clockwork raven against the tree, completely staving its head in. The bird tumbled into the snow and Eustace brought the heel of his boot down hard over and over again until the raven was ground into bits.

‘Damn it, Rosa,’ he said, breathing hard. ‘What must I do? How can I make you understand that I am in earnest? I cannot and will not live with those infernal birds a moment longer! You must send them away.’

‘They are not here!’ Rosa gasped. ‘They are only inside your head.’

‘Don’t you dare lie to me!’

‘I’m not! Those were f-fairies in the trees. That’s all.’