“The spell was on you that first time,” Bael said, “when we were in the cave. There was one on me too but I shook it off. Who did it for you?”

“Striker,” Kett said. “But he didn’t use words. And that wasn’t the first time I’ve been under that spell.”

Bael had hold of one of her wrists and one of her arms. Her free hand turned into a gryphon’s claw and she considered using it on him. But instead, she held it in front of his face and turned it to stone.

Kett had always found it more difficult to change one part of her body than to mimic an entire shape. Turning every inch of skin to the texture of stone was easier than changing just her hand, and she still wasn’t feeling a hundred percent well, so she did her whole body.

Bael was still holding her against the wall, but as the crackle of stone spread over her skin, his hands flew away from her as if she’d burnt him. His face twisted with horror, his whole body flinched. His eyes were wide with revulsion, shock and fear. Var shrunk against him, once more a small dog, whimpering with fear.

“Kett,” Bael croaked, like a man witnessing a massacre. “Gods, no. Please!”

Kett turned herself back, blinking. “For gods’ sakes, Bael, you look like you’ve seen a corpse.”

He touched her, tentatively, as if he was terrified she might break. When she failed to shatter into a million pieces, he grabbed her and hugged her to him, breathing hard, burying his face in her neck. Kett thought he might be crying.

He was strong and warm and close, and for a moment she let herself relax into the pleasure of his arms. But only for a moment. He might not have been the one to lock her in the tower, but he’d hardly protested Albhar’s intentions.

“Get a grip,” she hissed. “I was only trying to show you-look, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Bael said, looking up. “Believe me, Kett, it does. In my dream you were made of stone, and you crumbled to pieces. I thought-”

“You dreamed of me made of stone?” Kett asked sharply, and Bael nodded, looking wretched.

“I dreamed of you made of stone, and you turned into a-you looked like you’d been…”

“What?” Kett asked sarcastically, trying to disentangle herself from him. “Left in a tower cell for five days with no food and water?”

Bael flinched. “Left in a tower cell for five months with no food and water.” His eyes met hers, and they were tortured. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“And that makes it all right, does it? If you thought I was some anonymous stranger that you’d left to die? That’s sexy, Bael. That’s really hot.”

He flinched. “I was angry. I was hurt. You might have some memory of why.”

Kett felt her face burn.

“You have no idea of the agonies I’ve been through since I saw you there,” Bael said softly. “Day and night, visions of you. Nightmares. Your body just rotting away as I watched. Like the dead grown old. I thought-it was telling me you were going to die, and then when you turned to stone…”

He buried his head in her neck again, and Kett, frowning, let him. It was only when the door from the breakfast room opened and Tyrnan looked out, eyebrows raised, that she made Bael move.

“We need to talk,” she said, gesturing to her father that it was all right. A direct lie. Kett couldn’t really remember any instances in her life when things had been less right, but she really didn’t need Tyrnan’s interference.

Tugging Bael upstairs to her bedroom, she shut the door and leaned against it, shoving her hands through her hair. Funny, but it was one of the hardest things to change.

“Sit,” she said to Bael, gesturing to the bed, and he did. “Stay. Good dog.”

Var, still a dog but rather larger, gave her a reproachful look and leapt onto the bed to rest his head in Bael’s lap.

They were both silent a while. Kett, her leg aching, limped over to the dresser for a jar of liniment then hesitated. What the hell. Bael could see her naked without jumping on her. He thought she consorted with whores.

The fact that she actually had didn’t make her feel any better.

She kicked off her boots, tugged off her trousers and dealt Bael a severe look. “My leg hurts,” she said. “Don’t go getting any ideas.”

“I wouldn’t anyway.” He hesitated, watching her sit at the other end of the bed and start to rub liniment into her thigh. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Hurts like buggery. Well, not actually like buggery, that’s not really so bad. But, you know. Hurts. A lot.”

“I tried to fix it.”

“How?”

Bael frowned. “I don’t know. I just…wanted you to be better. To stay alive.”

Please get well again. Just stay alive.

“Sure, and I’m the Maharaja of Pradesh,” Kett said, shaken.

“Actually, funny story,” Bael said. “I used to know the Maharaja of Pradesh.”

“No you didn’t,” Kett said wearily.

“Did too. Fat man. Smelled of curry.”

“Harem of concubines younger than his daughter,” Kett said absently.

“You know him?”

“We’ve met.”

She poked at her leg a while, trying to think of what to say. All this bullshit between them. Maybe if she’d just been honest in the first place, none of this would have happened.

Yeah, like she believed that. But maybe it was worth a try anyway.

“The thing is…”

Bael looked at her encouragingly. Var nuzzled her hand and she found herself scratching the soft fur at the top of his head.

“The thing is…”

Var licked her fingers encouragingly.

Tell him you were the barmaid. Tell him you didn’t fuck Giacomo. Tell him he’s probably right and you are his mate.

Tell him…

He left you to die.

Bael touched her hand and she looked up, her eyes meeting his. His eyes were so green, impossibly green, shining like emeralds.

“The thing is,” her voice came out as a whisper, “there’s so much you don’t know.”

“Then tell me,” Bael said.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Start anywhere.”

Var, cat-shaped again, slid onto her lap, his fur silky against her bare skin. He looked up at her, eyes as green as Bael’s, and purred.

Kett dug her fingers into his fur, and started talking.

Once upon a time, Bael learned, there had been a little girl who was made of stone. One day, she was turned into a real girl, but because she’d been a statue for eight years she didn’t know how to talk or move or eat. She babbled like a baby and nearly choked on ordinary foods. She crawled, shouted and hit people, because she didn’t know it wasn’t acceptable to do so.

She also didn’t know that it wasn’t usual for other people to change their shapes at will. She frequently turned into a dog or a horse without notice, since those were the animals she’d seen most when she was a statue. Later, when she was educated a little more, and learned about tigers and gryphons, she started trying to emulate them. On the island where she lived, there were dragons, but it wasn’t until her teens that she managed such a shape-

“Hold on,” Bael said. “Dragon island? The only one in Peneggan is Koskwim.”

Kett nodded. “I’ll tell you about it later.” She paused. “It’s-well, it’s not entirely my secret to tell.”

“But it might prove important?”

Her fingers dug into Var’s fur. “Yeah. It probably will.”

“Who undid the spell? Striker?”

She gave a half smile. “No. Striker was still imprisoned in the kelfs’ mythical hell dimension-don’t ask-pickling in his own madness. It was a couple of kids who’d nicked a magic book and went on some kind of spree, trying to turn inanimate objects into real things. And with me they just…got lucky. Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it.” Her gaze slid in his direction. “You’ve met one of them.”

Bael gestured with his hand for more. He was too tired to think which of Kett’s many bizarre acquaintances it might have been.