“There now,” Maria said with a smile. “Don’t you think you look pretty?”
Clara looked at her reflection in the long mirror and nodded. She did, indeed, look pretty in the new clothes that Maria had brought her. They were a big improvement on her jeans and T- shirt which now lay in a heap on her bedroom floor. She’d been wearing them ever since they’d arrived back in Ashgar and they looked indescribably tatty.
Looking round the bedroom she found it hard to believe that she was in a foreign country and wondered how they’d travelled. Probably by magic, she thought. Not that she remembered anything after Lord Jezail’s hex had hit her, but she assumed that she’d been put back in the crystal again for she was still quite stiff.
“All the young girls in Stara Zargana dress like this,” Maria chattered on. Smoothing the print skirt with its colourful braid trim, she adjusted the gathered neck of her white blouse, and stood back to admire her. “Now try this on,” she instructed, holding up a little black jacket. “The weather’s not nearly as warm as it was yesterday and we can’t have you catching a cold now, can we!”
“Thank you, Maria,” Clara said gratefully, looking at the pile of new clothes that lay scattered across her bed. “You’ve been very good to me and … well, you didn’t need to buy me so much.”
“I got you a few winter things as well,” Maria confessed. “The summer’s almost over and the wind’s really quite chilly this morning.” Her eyes, however, were troubled and more than a little afraid. She liked Clara and would do what she could to protect her, but using a hex to attack Lord Jezail hadn’t been at all wise and her master had by no means forgiven her. “Come downstairs and have some breakfast,” she urged, banishing her worries from her mind.
Clara sighed. Really, she couldn’t have had nicer jailers than Maria and Count Vassili. They were both very kind to her but although they did everything they could to please her, she was still conscious of being a prisoner, for they were careful never to leave her alone.
“Doesn’t she look lovely, Count Vassili?” Maria said as they stepped from the narrow, stone, spiral staircase into one of the lower rooms of the tower. Compared with some of the other rooms in the citadel, it was quite simply furnished, for which Clara was grateful. Ornate crystal chandeliers, tapestries and Persian carpets weren’t really her thing at all and she liked her little sitting room with its homely, carved furniture and deep, comfy armchairs.
Vassili looked up and nodded approvingly. “What have we here?” he queried, smiling. “An Ashgari princess?”
Clara gave a mock curtsey as he gestured towards the table where breakfast was laid. She was hungry and, pulling out her chair, missed the look that passed between Maria and the count. It was one of extreme unease for earlier that morning Lord Jezail had informed them that he wished to speak to Clara later on in the day. His tone had been grim and uncompromising and the count knew that he wasn’t going to take any nonsense from Clara. This time, she would have to copy out the spells and if she wouldn’t, he would use force. The thought made him wince as both he and Maria knew the pressures that could be brought to bear on her.
They chatted quite cheerfully throughout breakfast. Maria had mentioned a walk through the town and Clara was quite anxious to see it. The quaint, red-roofed houses of Stara Zargana had fascinated her and she longed to explore the narrow, twisting little streets that she could see from the slit window of her bedroom.
“Are you going to come with us this morning, Count Vassili?” she enquired.
The count, looking startled, glanced at Maria. “Where were you planning to go?” he asked.
Clara smiled as she buttered a piece of toast. “Maria promised me yesterday that she’d take me on a walk through the town this morning …”
Her voice petered out as she saw his expression change.
“I … er, I don’t think Maria meant today,” he said, avoiding her gaze.
Clara looked at him fixedly, her heart sinking. “Lord Jezail wants to speak to me, doesn’t he?” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “He wants me to write down the spells!”
Maria gave a sudden cry of distress and, pressing her napkin to her mouth, rushed from the room.
“Clara,” the count reached forward and grasped her wrist. “Clara,” he repeated, looking into her eyes, “this time you must write the spells down for him. All of them. If you don’t, he’ll make you — and, believe me, that won’t be very nice.”
Fear flickered in her eyes but, as the count sat back satisfied that she’d taken his warning to heart, she spoke again, her voice thoughtful. “Can I ask you something, Count Vassili?”
He looked at her in surprise. “You can ask me anything you like,” he said.
“Would you promise not to tell Lord Jezail what I asked?”
“He is my master,” he reminded her dryly.
“I know, but … sometimes you don’t approve of him, do you? Like just now, when you told me he might hurt me to get me to write down the spells.”
The count pressed his lips together and, pushing back his chair sharply, walked over to the window. Staring unseeingly at the mountains he suddenly longed for home. He’d had more than enough of Lord Jezail and his schemes. If it weren’t for the book he was searching for, he’d have left his service long ago.
“You see,” Clara said, rising to her feet and catching him by the arm, “there are some spells that I don’t think Lord Jezail ought to know.”
“I can’t advise you, Clara,” he said, holding her by the shoulders and looking at her straightly. “You must do as you think fit.”
“Do you think he would know if I didn’t tell him them all?” she whispered anxiously.
He paused and released her. “There’s no way that Lord Jezail knows what’s in the Book of Spells, Clara. Does that make things easier for you?”
She nodded and her face cleared as she smiled in relief. “It does,” she said. And then she added in a strange voice. “You have been very kind to me, Count Vassili. I won’t forget it.”
Maria came back into the room and, seeing from Clara’s face that she knew what was in store for her, ran forward and hugged her hard. “Don’t you worry,” she said in a voice tinged with tears. “You just tell him what he wants to know and everything will be all right!”