“I think I have a rebellious heart,” I confessed. “Every moment of every day I break my Firelord’s vows, because I cannot let go my former life. I cannot forget Teraj. And there’s more than rebellion in me; there’s discontent. Everything I wanted for my people, I have achieved. But it is not enough. There is still injustice, still prejudice. I feel that there is something more, something infinitely greater, that must be done.

“I was told once that there are no Quelled. But that is a lie. There will always be Quelled, as long as the world is cold and people need fire; as long as I divine. Is there a way we can survive the cold without fire or firestones, or slaves to mine for them? There must be another way. There must.”

But there was none, and the stones around me grew colder and colder, and the circle of my fate more and more binding. I could no longer feel my legs or feet, and my hands pressed under my arms were like ice through the fabric of my gown. Yet, incredibly, I felt a warmth, a joy. It came from outside myself; it was so real, so intense, I could almost place its source. It was somewhere near the altar – close. And somewhere, as if glad again to be in my company, someone smiled. I saw nothing; but with all of my being I was aware of him.

“Welcome,” I said, smiling. “Do you like this exceptional cold? You must have fire for spirit, then. It’s as cold here as it was out in the snow that day You gave me an answer then. Can you not give me an answer now, for the world?”

And then it struck me – crashed across me in a blaze of light, and I leapt up, yelling with laughter, and ran, hobbling fast on my frozen feet, out of the holy place, and down through passages and stairs and halls, past startled guards and down to my room. Dannii’s bed was still unoccupied. I ran through the halls to Lesharo’s room. I threw open the door and rushed in, half falling on his bed, shaking him, yelling at him to get up. I pulled off his furs and blankets, realised he slept naked, and threw him his trousers.

“Wake up!” I cried, pulling at his arms. “There’s something I want us to do!”

He stared at me vaguely, half asleep. “I can’t, lionheart,” he mumbled, trying to cover himself “I’ve a wife—”

“Get up! I want us to go outside, into the snow.”

“Into the snow? Are you mad, Elsha?”