“And then, when the …” She stops for a moment to look at me, releasing my hand, and I realise we’re both thinking about the Black Marks. “It was just a puppet show – Leho, it doesn’t seem right.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I couldn’t tell anybody, you know,” she continues, dropping her gaze. “Not that there’s anyone much to tell, but when I got home Cook wanted to know where I’d been, and I lied and said I’d been shopping.”

“So?”

Emee shrugs. “It’s not right to lie about something like that. It ought to be spoken about, and I wasn’t brave enough to do it.”

She raises her chin and sets off again. We reach the iron gates of the park, and walk along the dark path. The gas lights shimmer buttery yellow among the trees. Like before, it’s a relief to be off the street, to be out of public view. This time, instead of sitting on the bench, she leads me to stand beneath the spreading branches of a tree.

She is still clutching the dog. Although if she puts it down, she might not be able to find him again in the darkness.

“If you tie a bit of string to his collar, then he could get down.”

“I don’t have any string.”

I feel around in my jacket pocket. Something Papa taught me: always carry string, a knife, a couple of spare coins. “Here.” I fumble a finger between the dog’s skinny neck and the collar and make a boatman’s knot, which I can do with my eyes shut. Then I lift the dog down, putting him onto the gravel, the end of the string wound around my forefinger like a fishing line.

“I can barely see him,” Emee complains, craning into the darkness at our feet. “He’s just a black lump.”

“He won’t get away. This is good string. I got it from–” Well, never mind that.

With no warning, Emee leans over and, without touching me, presses her mouth against mine. Another surprise! Her lips taste sweet, like some kind of fruit. To steady myself, I reach out and put my hand on the bare skin of her arm. This has to be what it feels like to drown.

“What was that for?” I ask hoarsely.

Her expression is unreadable, and she moves away from me to lean against the tree trunk. “My aunt says the Cerels will be going away soon, leaving Ursa … I thought you might leave without my getting a chance to do that.”

Ye gods, what can I say to that? The Caucasas swims through my head, closely followed by Emee’s kiss and her aunt.

“I’d never leave without telling you,” I croak.

She laughs drily. “I’m glad to hear it.”

The string tugs my finger like there’s a fish on it. “But what makes you think I’ll be going somewhere?”