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’ ‘In time?’ Rob chortled and poked Enrique with his elbow. ‘If only she knew.’ ‘What does he mean by that?’ Eva asked of Constance. ‘Has he … he has not … tell me that you are untouched, little one.’ Constance cringed and looked away, hot tears streaming down her face. It was answer enough for Eva, whose dusky skin went ashen. She let go of Constance and in that instant, Constance knew a greater heartsickness than she’d ever imagined. Not even Nana Eva could stand to be near her now, corrupted as she was. The ruination was so complete that the woman who had been as a mother to her after the death of Anna deGranville was revolted by her presence. ‘What have you done to her?’ Eva demanded, advancing on Rob and Enrique. ‘Have you … damaged her?’ ‘If by that you mean her maidenhead,’ Rob said, smiling fiendishly, ‘I plucked that fine cherry blossom many nights ago. Did I not, Constance? Oh, and Eva, you should have heard how she whimpered and begged.’ ‘Monster!’ Her hand flashed out. . He collapsed over her, his body spent, his breathing uneven, feeling her hands close in his hair, his eyes closed as the feelings of exhaustion washed over him… unaware of the thoughts that had caused Serene’s mouth to curve into a smile that slipped into a grimace as a white, hot pain seared her breast, trying to control her breath to manage it. Soon! Soon, I will have the force necessary to overrun the Fortress of the Veil. And once the mortal world is within reach, I shall settle my scores with Ah’veel. It had been difficult not to take from him but there is more that needs to be done. Soon… But first, I need to go see the crones who live on the edge of fae-kingdom, feared and isolated not only because of their looks but also their lack of distinction to use their powers for good or evil. Only, they’ll be able to tell me how to get rid of this niggling humanity within me that burns inside like a conscience. -8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8- ‘Stop it!’ The cold, harsh command and the raised.
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”“It’s there, in the little zipped pocket.”I looked and it was. I never ever put anything in there. I looked at her, and she must have been smiling because of the look on my face. I said, “I didn’t put it in there,” and she shrugged that shrug again.“You must have.” She moved closer, shuffling her stool nearer to mine so our knees touched. “Can you imagine where else I could have put it last week?” Her voice was low, quiet, barely a whisper. “My hand so tantalisingly close to you, I could sense how wet you were. Like you are now. Give it to me.” For a moment I had no idea what she was talking about, then pulled the small square of silk out of my bag and gave it to her. “Tell me if you want it back later.”She had, she told me, learned her trade from her Grandmother. Her mother had been the third daughter of that marriage and Clemency, coincidentally, was the third of her own Mother’s. “They say the art passes to the third daughter of the third daughter.” She laughed. “My Grandmother.

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