“I’m sure it’s Rhianna,” said Loren. “She moved away from the window. Look, she’s on the balcony.”

The woman reappeared and leaned on her elbows in the open window of the high parapet. The turret was set into the tower with a balcony of open arches. The light slowly faded as the sun began to disappear behind the castle, dropping them into twilight. The girl’s hair blew around her face from beneath her hood and she stretched out her arms, letting the last warm rays bathe her hands. It looked as though she was trying to catch a sunbeam, and even from a distance Loren thought she looked melancholy and haunted. As the girl leaned far over the window’s edge, Loren held her breath, and then the figure retreated into the tower.

An unintelligible yell reverberated through the tower and Will quickly lifted his finger to his lips. “I told you there was someone upstairs. We should go. And if it is Rhianna she might have a plan, or know where Cat is, and we shouldn’t stay here too long anyway. Do we leave the serrals here? They’re both asleep.”

Loren nodded, and Will moved to a large carafe standing beside carved goblets. Will poured a cup of water and took a gulp. “Ugh! The water’s been standing too long. It’s not fresh.”

“At least that means this room wasn’t prepared for anyone,” remarked his sister.

“If we’re going to find Cat, or Rhianna, we need to go now,” he said. “Whatever that feast is down in the hall, they’ll be starting soon, if they haven’t already. And if that is Rhianna, then she’ll be going too.”

Loren inhaled and let out a deep sigh. “Okay. We won’t find anything staying in here.”

Orca balanced on Loren’s shoulder as they crept down the spiral stairs and sneaked out onto the first-floor gallery. They kept low and peered through the bannisters. People milled in the banquet hall below chatting, and an air of nervous excitement was tangible. Voices sounded close by, then they heard the click of a door being opened. Will grabbed Loren and they ducked beneath the balustrade’s hanging curtains and peeped through a veiled gap. Loren sucked in her breath and whispered, “Well, now we know, she either moved like lightning, or that’s not her up there.”

Rhianna—this time it definitely was Rhianna—laughed nervously as she exited one of the dignitaries’ rooms opposite with Ianthe and Eirlys. “Don’t worry, my dear.” Eirlys tried to soothe her with a wry chuckle. “We’re all here this time, though I can’t help but feel concerned when we get a summons from the Ice Queen.”

“It’s not a laughing matter. I’m pretty sure she’s got Cat and the stone! Why else would she want everyone here?” Fear tinged Rhianna’s voice. Ianthe placed a hand on her arm, but Rhianna kept talking in a hushed voice. “What if she uses the Seren Stone? She’ll have all the power she’s ever wanted. A tiny dreg of spirit water from the stone gave that girl wings. You noticed the wings, yes? And she isn’t even one of us! She’s never even gone through the changes that generations after her did!” Rhianna thrust out her hands and clenched her fists in frustration.

Loren’s heart pounded and she flexed her shoulder blades with guilt, her wings contracting beneath her coat as she peered through the curtains.

The three women made their way across the carpet to stairs at the end of the stretch of suites and down into the hall below. Peering over the handrail, Will and Loren watched Rhianna move slowly and hesitantly across the room, her eyes flicking from guest to guest. The women found their seats at the huge banquet table and sat huddled in deep, whispered conversation.

Will sniggered. Across the room, on a sturdy wooden chair and on top of a voluminous pile of navy cushions sat a large man. The huge chair-back supported the man’s slack neck, and even Will could see up his nostrils from the balustrade. The man snored, oblivious to everything.

“Look at him,” Will whispered, nudging his sister.

Eirig, from the Borders, Orca hissed. And that’s the Marine. The lechrad sneered, stretching forward between the balustrades, his tiny toes the only thing stopping him from slipping through.

Holding court and enjoying the sound of his own voice near the centre of the room was the unmistakable Marine. Staff stood close to offer drinks, copious amounts of which he threw back between snippets of words. He relished the attention and courted whatever praise and adulation he could. “So, we escaped the Welsh Red no problem. Though it took Eirig”—he tossed a dismissive gesture at the sleeping man across the floor—“weeks to settle them!” His high-pitched whine filled the hall as he bragged and fingered the tassels adorning his shoulders.

The Marine paused, glancing around the room. He caught Rhianna’s eye and winked. From upstairs Loren watched her cringe. The Marine smirked and marched across the room, ignoring Rhianna. He prodded one of his cohorts and steered him towards Eirig, snuffling and snoring, in the large chair. The Marine pointedly coughed. Irked at the lack of reaction, he cleared his throat loudly and sharply jabbed the portly man in the ribs.

Eirig jumped and slid as his mountain of cushions gave way. He landed on the slippery floor and snorted again. His ruddy cheeks huffed and puffed as he pulled himself back up unceremoniously into his chair, leaving the cushions scattered across the floor. Eirig threw out a blow as he scrambled to his feet, but the Marine sidestepped. Several men with Eirig held him back—tension was high enough without a scuffle.

Rhianna watched the threat of a brawl with clear revulsion as the Marine and a handful of sycophants guffawed and cackled. Watching above, Loren and Will began to appreciate the political balancing act before them.

Loren scanned the hall for the host. Fear had ignited in her belly the moment Rhianna had mentioned Glacia, Cat, and the Seren Stone, and desperation crept into her body. Politically, Glacia had all the power. Within what must have only been hours, she had summoned all the clan and tribal leaders to her castle, and what was more, they had all come. A shiver shot down Loren’s spine as she realised something very big and momentous was about to happen. The woman was nowhere to be seen, but her presence was evident in the apprehension below.

Footsteps echoed behind them and Loren urgently tugged at Will’s shirt. They scurried away from the bannister to the tall, arched windows, set deep into the south wall, and withdrew to the stairwell.

A heavy wooden door slammed not far away, and after more footsteps, clinks of metal echoed. A key rasped in a lock and both Loren and Will furtively leaned forward. The hefty wooden gate opened and they sank into the stone, barely able to breathe, as a tall woman walked out of the south-west tower. She locked the heavy padlock and walked purposefully over to the balustrade.

She stood just feet away from where Loren and Will crouched and leaned over to survey the hall below. Her shimmering russet gown had overtones of citrine and brushed the floor. Its sleeves tapered to reveal pale, long-fingered hands grasping the handrail. Long, flaxen hair, the palest gold, fell midway down the woman’s back, catching lightly on the raw silk of her dress. As she turned, a smile played on her lips and satisfaction blazed in her indigo eyes.

Her dress swished as she floated across the floor and disappeared into the gallery’s stairwell. Loren and Will held their breath in case she returned, but she didn’t, and the only sound was the hum of expectant conversation below.

Resisting the urge to sneak back to the bannisters, Loren whistled under her breath and turned back to the stairs. Will passed her and ran up them two at a time. Tripping on the top stair, he fell sideways and slammed his shoulder into the wall. He leaned heavily against the wall, rubbing his arm. The wall moved and Will gasped as he swung round. A large stone block had shifted. He pushed the hinged stone into the wall as he knelt beside it, and a doorway opened.

Inside was dark but for chinks of light coming through cracks, and the odd cresset or two. Loren dropped beside him and both stared into the shadows. They could see shallow rising steps, but nothing else. Will pulled the hidden door towards him and it closed itself. The door was completely invisible, so he pushed the stone again. It opened easily and Will grinned in excitement.

“Ready?” He beamed. “I think this is where we start searching!”

Loren smiled, and only Orca cautioned them. Inside the wall? We don’t even know where Glacia’s gone, and if it’s safe.

“Glacia will be making her big entrance, we’re safe!” hissed Will.

“What about Cat?” Loren asked.

“Maybe we’ll find her through here!” Will knelt on the top step and peered inside. “Come on.”

“Are you sure?” Loren hesitated. “Where do you think it goes?”

Moreover, interrupted Orca, staring into the dark, what’s on the other side?

“Same question,” said Loren.

“So, let’s find out. It must go to that tower, obviously Glacia’s tower, and to that girl we saw through the window. We can’t get up there from here as Glacia locked the door behind her. This is the only way!” Will crawled into the gap.

Loren crouched down and Orca muttered I don’t like this, in her ear as she entered. Inside, she lifted her head to gauge where she was and stood up. “Wow!” she exclaimed in a hushed tone. “This is huge.” She carefully walked up the shallow steps in front of her.

“This must be going above those amazing windows downstairs!” Will’s voice returned in an excited whisper.

The vague light faded and the steps evened out to a flat, tall tunnel. The walls were dry, and it was very cold. Loren shivered. “It even smells cold, have you ever noticed that? You can smell cold!”

“It’s freezing,” he agreed. “It’s much warmer in the rooms.” He hurried on. “More steps, going down.” Loren followed. Will stopped at the bottom of the steps as the castle wall rose in front of him.

So, how do we get out? grumbled Orca, still petulant with misgivings.

“Quiet!” hissed Will, down on his knees as he searched for a gap in the stone with his fingers. “Got it!” He awkwardly pulled stone towards him. The stone grated and swung inwards. He looked into the passage beyond then crawled out with Loren close behind.

A spiral staircase stretched below, but a large wooden door blocked their way up. “We’re in Glacia’s tower, aren’t we?” whispered Loren.

“I think so,” Will nodded.

And she is where? asked Orca.

“Not here, you know that,” said Will, taking a few paces down the stairs. “These stairs go down to the gallery. Glacia’s down there.”

And the door? prompted Orca.

“Is it locked?” asked Will. “It might not be.” Will pushed against the door and it opened with a high-pitched, almost inaudible squeak. “We’re in!” he whispered with a delighted grin.

He stepped out of the tower and into the turret. Stairs went both up and down beyond the door. He stood on the landing staring down into a barely furnished rotund room. It seemed to be more of a storage space, filled with large, dusty trunks and not much else except bookshelves. Loren leaned over his shoulder, gazing at the plethora of books, dusty and old, filling the shelves. It took every ounce of her willpower to follow her brother and leave the library behind. Will pointed to the spiral stairs rising beside them and they crept up what was only a handful of steps, before arriving at a second wooden door leading into the rest of the turret.

“Should we knock?” asked Loren.

You don’t know who’s in there, Orca worried.

“Not Glacia, but Cat might be, or that other girl,” said Will.

Oh, good! It’s not as if she has a network of secret passages or anything, said the lechrad clinging to Loren’s shoulder.

“Are we going in or not?” hissed Will. “There’s no lock. She locks the whole tower at that gate at the bottom of the stairs. C’mon.” He turned the door handle and the door stood ajar. He beckoned to Loren and they pushed it open enough to slip into the room.

They pressed their backs to the wall and stood upon plush, dark-blue rugs. Gauzy blue curtains hung at the tall, narrow windows, and an ornate wooden bench sat below one of them. A luxurious velvet couch, in the castle’s midnight blue, was opposite, and a sturdy wooden bed, draped with lilac quilts and discarded clothes, sat behind the door. Beside them were more spiral stairs topped with a padlocked door. Across the room, adjacent to the couch, which supported a heap of violet cushions, was a thin doorway. The door was open and an icy breeze blew the curtains, beating them against the pale stone walls. Cressets lit the room, and their constant flitting in and out of the turret door betrayed the shadowy presence out on the balcony.

Loren’s curiosity got the better of her and she tiptoed forward. Sketches of the sea and sun rested with charcoal on the floor by the couch, rustling in the breeze. She bent, picked up an errant picture and immediately identified with the artist. She smiled in approval. Will followed and she turned to him nervously. Orca fidgeted in agitation. “Those are good,” whispered Will looking at the sketches. “Like yours,” he added with a smile. “Come on.” He ignored his sister’s hesitation.

As they turned, a shadow appeared in the doorway. Her outline merged with the dusk for a moment as cressets withdrew, then gravitated back, illuminating her wild hair flowing about her hood like a halo. The girl stepped into the room, letting the door close behind her. She stared at them with her hands on her hips and her cloak billowing in the cold breeze. Cressets sensed the unease and began to emit double their usual light in excitement. The room lit up and the girl stood her ground with a confused expression, but she spoke with wary curiosity. “Who are you?”