Duchess Elise calls four hours before the late-morning sunrise. The moon has not set, but I am already dressed in a cobalt gray robe, which buttons at the front. It is the only clothing the Prince has chosen that I can put on without help.

By the paleness of Elise's skin, and shadows beneath her eyes, I see I am not the only one who has slept badly. My head feels like packed snow from last night's wine. Sleep, when it finally came, was heavy and deep, and has left me groggy and exhausted.

But even with the general muffle over my senses, I have the impression we are being followed. Of course there are the two guards who accompany the Duchess, and two more discreetly trail me, but there is someone or something else lurking in the twilight of the mind-world, plucking at my attention.

We wind through the fort, down narrow streets and enclosed courtyards, passing arches that peek through to the empty market square. A passing patrol of soldiers bow to the Duchess. They show no surprise at the sight of her wandering before the fort has risen, and I realize she is a woman with free rein, accustomed to being among her people and going where she chooses, when she chooses.

Up ahead, two lookouts in the bell tower keep watch over the northern side of the lake. She stops before a low, freestanding structure with closed shutters. I work the frosty air in and out of my chest in an effort to remain calm, already stretching my senses to glean Kel's whereabouts.

The Duchess opens the door to a workshop. She casts a look behind as we enter, and again I have the sense of someone there, though my inner eye touches no minds other than the assigned guards.

The pottery workshop smells of wet clay and earthen minerals, mixed with a trace of the Duchess's sweet berry perfume. A pottery wheel stands on one side near a cushioned bench. Drying racks are stacked against the walls, littered with sandy, bone-hard figurines, glazed vases, and prettily painted bowls.

The Duchess closes us inside, lights a lantern and goes to a second door in a crevice at the back. Before turning the rusted key in its lock, she pauses.

"I have a daughter, Claudia." These are the first words she has spoken since last night and her voice sounds as gray and troubled as the dark moons beneath her eyes. "She is twelve years old. My son, Jules, is seven." Her lips rise in an unauthentic smile.

Inside me, the uneasy bud of paranoia I have carried here, blossoms. "Jules is third in line to the throne. When we thought Prince Jakut had been assassinated—"

"You were concerned your husband and son would be next."

We must move the boys. She was talking about Kel and her own son.

"Jules will be eight this year and is summoned to the Ruby Court to continue his education. I have done what was needed to protect my family."

Did the Duchess intend to send Kel with Jules to the Ruby palace to protect her son? Or had the Duke and Duchess bought Kel to take their son's place at the royal court once they heard Jakut was missing, presumed dead.

The Duchess knows Kel's age means it will not be long before his glitter eyes settle. An Uru Ana would be able to travel through Jules's memories, learn his world, his life and be presented to the Ruby Court as the King's Lyndonian nephew. If this was her plan, she must believe the attack on her son's life is inevitable, and fatal.

The Duchess pushes open the low door, hands me her lantern and a key. "At the end of the passage you will be met by a door. Lock it behind you. When you reach the stairs, climb to the second floor. You will see only one way in. The key fits both doors."

The narrow handle for the lantern slips between my clammy fingers. Until last night, she intended to throw Kel into the wolfish intrigue and dangers of the Ruby Court.

"You will inspect him and come straight back. Do not get caught."

The damp passage smells of mould and lichen, and is so narrow I have to push through sideways. Terrible images flood me. They are of my own making, as I am too afraid now to reach for Kel's mind. I can only think of getting to him, and holding him in my arms.

The passage twists and I am forced to hunch with the sloping ceiling. Half-jogging half-walking, it seems like an eternity when the crack finally opens so I can straighten up.

I am facing a rotted wooden door, bloated at the sides, damaged at the bottom. The key clatters as I turn it in the rusted lock, then the latch clicks, and I push. The door doesn't budge. I thrust against it hard, panic blanketing my logic.

What if she has tricked me? Trapped me here. Left me to die in a place no one will ever think to look. I lunge with my shoulder over and over, until the warped bottom scrapes and splinters on flagstone. When the gap is wide enough, I squeeze through, the waist of my dress snagging on crumbling brick. Powdery mortar stains the cotton, but there is nothing I can do about that now.

On the other side of the door, steps spiral up the tower. They are narrow and steep. I realize I'm inside a secret escape passage, hidden inside the tower's thick walls.

Afraid I will not be able to open the door from this side, I ignore the Duchess's instructions to lock it. A child could barely squeeze through the gap, and clearly it hasn't been used in many years.

I cannot go fast enough up the stairs. A metal rail welded into the brick steadies my ascent, so I do not trip. The lantern in my other hand offers a dim bloom of light to guide me.

I pay no attention to the two minds behind the door on the first floor. But on the second floor, when I sense Kel, I have to set the lantern down. I must appear steady and controlled, not a hyperventilating wreck. If I want him to listen to me and cooperate with the plan, I will need to win back his trust. I cannot do that if I shatter before him in a blubbering mess.

The strangling sob of emotion ebbs as I take deep breaths. The Duchess is waiting for me. I cannot afford to delay any longer. I push down the latch and enter.

Gray shadow drapes around the two slit windows. Only the faintest traces of moonlight illuminate the circular room. I hold up the lantern, shuffling towards where I sense Kel, almost tripping on an empty mattress, and tumbling into a desk. My eye catches the faint shape of a chamber pot, and a large jug of water. The toilet must be emptied regularly because only the faintest smell of urine catches in the dusty air.

Kel hides in the darkest corner of the tower room. I peer into blackness, knowing he is there but unable to see him. And then he opens his eyes, and tiny flecks of gold sparkle.

"Kel," I say, my voice breaking, despite my efforts to keep it steady. He doesn't move, but stares as though lost in a strange, monstrous twilight. He knows it's me. Even if he can't believe his ears, he must believe the mind he senses. He knows the feel of my mind better than my face.

I step a little closer, careful not to alarm him. Then I crouch. My eyes burn with tears as I smile. "It's me," I say again. "It's Mirra. I followed you here. Tug sold me to another nobleman who was coming here on his way to the Red City. He knew it was the only way to ensure I wouldn't escape and try looking for you by myself."

"She couldn't escape." The flatness of his voice wrenches my gut. Flat, and dead, and hopeless. "She wasn't strong enough." He turns away and my composure crumbles.

"Look at me, Kel." I edge forward. "Look at me!" I want to touch him, I want to hold him so badly I can barely take the strain, but I can see he isn't ready. "You promised me you wouldn't give up. And I promised I would find you, no matter how long it took. I'm here. If I could take you with me now, I would. But I can't. Not yet. Not until tonight. I'm getting us out of here."

He shifts, unwraps from his blanket cocoon, and crawls out of the hole beneath crisscrossed beams. His legs and feet are bare and dirty. As he moves forward, squinting, the dim crack of half-light illuminates his face. It is bruised purple and blue where he has been beaten. My fist squeezes against my chest to hold in the pain. But when he drops the gray cover, I gasp. He's wearing a pair of cotton shorts, skin hanging off his bones, as though not a scrap of food has passed his lips in the last eight days. While I am fatter than ever.

I blink but the tears are too abundant to hold back. They run down my cheeks leaving itchy salt trails. His eyes find mine. I manage to hold them. Just.

He seems barely aware of the way his body shakes as he staggers forward, reaches for my hand, pushes up the laced cuff. Though the sores of my wrists have healed, the faint blisters and redness are still visible.

There is a glimmer of realization in his eyes and then he collapses, flopping to the wooden floor as though the strings holding him up have all been cut. I sink down with him, pull the cover around his back, and hold on as though he were dangling from a cliff edge. He doesn't sob. Doesn't move.

I smooth his hair, fingers avoiding the bruises and cuts. It is all I can do to stop my heart from shattering. I do not know how I will let him go, leave this room, leave him alone again. I speak quickly, making promises. I would promise him anything. I need him to believe freedom is possible. How could the Duchess allow this to happen?

"I'm getting you out of here," I whisper. "Back to Pa and Ma. They're waiting for us. Your eyes are changing, they're fading. In two months people won't even know you're Uru Ana. You'll be safe. This will never happen again. We'll be safe with Ma and Pa. I promise, Kel. You'll be safe." I cup my hand around his chin and turn him to face me. "Kel, can you hear me?"

There is a thin sheen on the whites of his eyes, a prick of the grief and fear pushing up through the wooden deadness. His head moves in the smallest nod. But a response nevertheless.

I rub his back while stretching my mind around the tower. The Duchess told me to inspect him and return at once. I have already been here longer than I'll be able to explain, and yet I do not know how I will ever let Kel out of my sight again.

"I'm staying in the royal guest tower on the south eastern side of the fort," I murmur. "Across from the market square. Tug and Brin are with me. I have arranged for us to leave here at moonrise tonight. Until then you must speak to no one about my visit. You cannot say anything."

His arms come to life. They slip around my waist, grip growing tighter and tighter as though sensing what I am trying to tell him—I must go.

"You can find me. You can find my mind in the fort. I won't leave you, Kel. Do you hear me? I'm not going to leave you again."

"OK," he whispers.

"You must eat or you won't be strong enough for the journey."

He buries his head into the soft cotton of my dress and nods. I hold him until I sense two men entering the bottom of the bell tower. Then I smother him with kisses.

"I have to go," I say. "You mustn't tell anyone you've seen me. I have to go." I untangle myself from his unyielding grip, prising little fingers out of my own. I grab the crust of bread from the tray on the chair and hand it to him. "You eat, Bud, OK?"

My legs threaten to give out as I cross to the secret door. I glance behind before pulling it closed. Kel stares at me with wide, bruised eyes. I cannot manage a smile.

The door drags across the stone. When the key is turned in the lock, and safely in my pocket, I slump against the wall, not bothering to fight the flow of hot tears.

Sorry for the late post! And thank you to everyone reading for your time and support. Enjoy the week-end. Hugs, C. xox