This is the real griv, thought Flax. It’s disaster. It’s end-of-the-world, and hide-little-minch-wiggin-hide, and don’t-bother-hiding-because-nothing-can-save-you.

The Floating Forest was going to lose its magic. And Flax couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

Because the Lady was a witch. She was the witch. She had a hole where her heartbeat should be, and it was full of power and greed.

Whereas Flax was just a small, frightened minch-wiggin. A small, frightened, imprisoned minch-wiggin. She might as well give up.

And that’s what she did.

They all gave up. Flax, Rose and the pup. They huddled under the bed, feeling small and lost. Flax couldn’t even bring herself to sing.

After a while, they slept again.

Flax dreamt of the Floating Forest. She dreamt of mossy paths and clear cold streams. Of vines and fern glades, and the early morning light filtering through the green leaves.

She dreamt of the deep, slow song of the ancient trees, which only a minch-wiggin could hear. And the magic that ran through everything, and made the forest what it was.

By the time she woke, she knew she couldn’t give up. Because the Floating Forest was her home.

I’m supposed to be Destroyer-of-Dragons-and-Protector-of-her-People, she thought. I’m supposed to stop griv, not just sit back and let it happen.

But how could she stop it?

Or rather, how could the three of them stop it? Because the forest was the pup’s home, too.

And Rose was their friend, even though she was human.

And Queen.

And had the worst possible relatives.

Flax crawled out from under the bed and began to trot in circles, with the toasting fork in her hand.

Small circles at first, then bigger and bigger.

Worrying and thinking.

After a while, Rose woke up and joined her.

Then the pup.

Round and round they went.

Worrying. And thinking.

And getting angry.

‘The Lady’s nasty,’ said Flax. ‘She’s going to destroy the Floating Forest, and she’s pleased about it.’

‘She’s greedy,’ said the pup. ‘If there were three horned globs, she’d eat them all and leave none for me.’

‘She’s already Regent,’ muttered Rose. ‘She’s already the Lady. Why does she need more power? Why does she—’

Rose stopped, and put her hand on her tummy. ‘I feel strange,’ she said. ‘Fizzy. Like a firecracker—’

‘Good morning, Felicia,’ said the Lady, from the other side of the bars. ‘I have brought your breakfast.’

All her tiredness and raggedness of the night before was gone. Her hair was smooth and so were her sleeves. She was sleek with stolen magic.

In her hands she carried a silver tray, with a large cream cake and a silver knife beside it. The two Spellhounds stood behind her.

It was one thing to be angry with the Lady when she was nowhere in sight. It was another thing entirely when she was right there in front of them.

The pup crept behind Rose. (Though he was so big that most of him poked out.)

Flax crept behind the pup.

The toasting fork became a very small thimble.

Rose stared at the ground. ‘I would rather you released us, Aunt.’

‘And so I will,’ said the Lady. ‘Very soon.’

With a Word, she unlocked the cell door and held out the tray. ‘Say thank you, Felicia. A queen is never ungrateful.’

Rose took the tray. ‘Thank you, Aunt,’ she mumbled.

The Lady locked the door again. ‘Now eat your breakfast. I have important work to do.’

And she strode towards the labyrinth entrance, with the Spellhounds following her.

As helpless as Flax.