It was late in the day by the time she rose and rang for tea and fresh washing water. When Jill arrived, she said nothing of the previous night’s events, although Rosa knew the servants must all be ablaze with gossip about it downstairs. In fact Jill wouldn’t meet her gaze at all, and Rosa realised the girl was frightened of her. Or, at least, afraid of the clockwork sentry still perched upon the post of her bed.

‘Do not worry about the ravens,’ Rosa said gently. ‘They will not harm any of you below stairs.’

Jill shot her a brief look, before staring back down at her hands. ‘Is it true that the clockwork birds are all in the chimneys, your grace?’

‘Yes, but you need not be afraid of them. They are here only to protect me.’

Jill bobbed a curtsy and turned back towards the door, only to pause and return.

‘One other thing, your grace. I don’t know whether anyone has informed you.’

‘Of what?’

‘It’s the king. He died this morning. In the early hours.’

She curtsied again and took her leave. Rosa frowned, recalling what the twins had said about how the pleasure garden’s opening night would have been cancelled, if it had been held just a day later. And it seemed they were right. A period of general mourning would now be announced for the king, and opening a pleasure garden during such a time would have been quite unthinkable.

Rosa told herself it was only a coincidence. The rest of the words the twins had spoken to her had been a total muddle and she felt sure Eustace must have been behind it anyway. Last night had been a triumph. She had managed to put Eustace in his place, and she was not about to let any fortune-telling babble detract from that. And yet … she did not feel as triumphant as she had expected. In fact she didn’t feel triumphant at all.

Suddenly, something broke apart in her chest and Rosa began to cry. Her soul ached and ached. She wept for Cookie. She wept for herself and the miserable cage that her life had become. She wept for the life of happiness she might have had as James’s wife. And she wept for the unborn baby inside her, whom she had always wanted, but now feared she would never be able to truly love. She felt ashamed of the words she had spoken to Eustace about the child, but she had meant every one. She felt ashamed that, for the first time, her clockwork creatures had invoked fear rather than delight. But there had been no other choice and she would do it all again if she had to. That did not make it easier to bear.