"With the Prison?"

"The inmates."

"Claudia ..."

"Think about it! No one can go there. How else does he monitor the Experiment?

Overhear what's happening?"

He nodded, his hair in his eyes. "It's possible."

"Only..." She frowned, knotting her fingers together. Then she turned on him. "They sounded wrong."

"You must be more precise in speech, Claudia. How, wrong?"

She searched for the word. When it came, it surprised her. "They sounded scared."

Jared considered. "Yes ... they did."

"And what would they be scared of? There's nothing to fear in a perfect world, is there?"

Doubtfully, he said, "We may have overheard some form of drama. A broadcast."

"But if they have that ... plays, films, then they have to know about danger, and risk, and terror. Is that possible? Can you do that if your world is perfect? Would they even be able to create such a story?"

The Sapient smiled. "That is a point we could debate, Claudia. Some people would say your own world is perfect, and yet you know those things."

She scowled. "All right. There's something else too." She tapped the wide-winged eagle.

"Is this just for listening? Or can we use it to speak to them?"

He sighed. "Even if we can, we shouldn't. Conditions in Incarceron are strictly controlled; everything was carefully calculated. If we introduce variables, if we open even a tiny keyhole into that place, we may ruin everything. We can't admit germs into Paradise, Claudia."

Claudia turned. "Yes, but..."

She froze.

Behind Jared, in the gap in the hedges, her father was standing. He was watching her.

For a moment her heart leaped with the terrible shock; then she let the practiced smile slip gracefully over her face. Sir!

Jared stiffened. The Key lay on the bench; he slid out his hand, but it was just out of reach.

"I've been looking everywhere for you both." The Warden's voice was soft, his dark velvet coat an emptiness at the heart of the sunlit glade. Jared looked up at Claudia, whitefaced. If he saw the Key ...

The Warden smiled calmly. "I have some news, Claudia. The Earl of Steen has arrived.

Your fiancé is looking for you."

For one cold moment she stared at him. Then she stood, slowly.

"Lord Evian is entertaining him but will only bore him. Are you pleased, my dear?"

He came to take her hand; she wanted to step aside to hide the glittering crystal from him, but she couldn't move. Then Jared gave a murmur and slumped forward slightly.

"Master?" Alarmed, she broke from her father's grip. "Are you in pain?"

Jared's voice was hoarse. "I ... No ... Just faint, for a moment. Nothing to worry about."

She helped him to sit up. The Warden stood above them, his face a mask of concern. He said, "I'm afraid you're overdoing things lately, Jared. Sitting out in the sun is not good for you. And so much study, at all hours of the night."

Jared stood shakily. "Yes. Thank you, Claudia. I'm fine now. Really."

"Perhaps you should get some rest," she said.

"I will. I'll go up to my tower, I think. Please excuse me, sir."

He stumbled up. For one terrible second Claudia thought her father would not move. He and Jared stood face-to-face. Then the Warden stepped back, his smile wry. "If you'd like supper sent up, we'll have it seen to."

Jared just nodded.

Claudia watched her tutor walk carefully between the yew hedges. She dared not look at the bench, but she knew it would be empty.

The Warden went and sat down, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles.

"A remarkable man, the Sapient."

She said, "Yes. How did you get in here?"

He laughed. "Oh Claudia. I designed this maze before you were born. No one knows its secrets as I do, not even your precious Jared." He turned, one arm over the back of the bench. Quietly he said, "I think you have done something to disobey me, Claudia."

She swallowed. "Have I?"

Her father nodded gravely. Their eyes met.

He was doing what he always did, teasing her, playing games with her. Quite suddenly she couldn't bear it anymore, the plotting, the stupid game. She stood, furious. "All right! It was me who broke into your study." She faced him, her face hot with anger. "You know that, you've known it since you went in there, so why are we pretending! I wanted to see inside, arid you never let me. You never let me in. So I broke in. I'm sorry, all right? I'm sorry!"

He stared at her. Was he shaken? She couldn't tell. But she was shaking, all the pent-up fear and rage of years bursting out, the fury that he made her life so false, and Jared's too.

He held up a hand hastily. "Claudia, please! Of course I knew. I'm not angry. Rather, I admire your ingenuity. It will come in useful in your life at the Palace."

She stared. For a moment he had been startled. More than that. Dismayed.

And he had not mentioned the Key.

The breeze rippled the rosebush, bringing a waft of its cloying scent, a silent surprise that he had revealed so much. When he spoke again his voice had its normal acid tone. "I hope you and Jared enjoyed the challenge." He stood abruptly. "The Earl is waiting."

She scowled. "I don't want to see him."

"You have no choice." He bowed and strode toward the gap in the hedge, and she swung around and glared at his back. Then she said, "Why are there no pictures of my mother in the house?"

She had no idea she was going to say it. It came out in a harsh demand quite unlike her own voice.

He stopped dead.

Her heart thudded; she was appalled at herself. She didn't want him to turn, to answer, didn't want to see his face. Because if he showed weakness, she would be terrified; his controlled poise was hateful and yet if it broke, she had no idea what might be underneath.

But he spoke without turning. "Don't go too far, Claudia. Don't try my patience."

WHEN HE was gone she found she was sitting on the bench in a huddle, the muscles of her back and shoulders tight with tension, her hands clenched on the silk of her skirt. She made herself take a slow breath.

Then another.

Her lips were salty with sweat.

Why had she asked him that? Where had it come from? Her mother was someone she never thought of, never even imagined. It was as if she had never existed. Even when she'd been small, looking at the other girls at Court with their fussing mamas, she had had no curiosity about her own.

She gnawed the bitten nails on her fingers. It had been a deadly mistake. She should never, never have said that.

"Claudia!"

A loud, demanding voice. She closed her eyes.

"Claudia, it's no good hiding in all these hedges." Branches swished and cracked. "Talk to me! I can't find the right way!"

She sighed. "So you've finally arrived. And how is my husband-to-be?"

"Hot and irritable. Not that you care. Look, there are five paths here at a meeting point.

Which do I take?"

His voice was close; she could smell the expensive cologne he used. Not splashed on, like Evian, but just enough. "The one that looks least likely," she said. "Toward the house."

The peevish mutter became more distant. "Like our engagement, many would say.

Claudia, get me out of here!"

She scowled. He was worse than she remembered.

Yew thrashed and snapped.