‘Maybe. Bracken and brambles. But there were Beetles too.’

‘Beetles?’

‘They’re in the Prison. Small metal things; they clear away rubbish, eat metal and plastic and flesh. I don’t know if this was a forest here, or Inside. How could they have been here.

. .?‘

‘You just might be mixing things up.’ Claudia couldn’t keep quiet any longer. ‘But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a real memory. What happened?’ Jared took a small scanner from his pocket, and placed it on the bedclothes. He made an adjustment to it, and it beeped.

‘The room is almost certainly full of listening devices. This will give us some protection, if you speak quietly.’ Finn stared at it. ‘The horse jumped. There was a pain in my ankle. I fell.’

‘A pain?’ Claudia came and sat next to him. ‘What sort of pain?’

‘Sharp. Like a sting. It was …‘ He paused, as if the memory was fiickering, just beyond reach. ’Orange. Orange and black. Small.’

‘A wasp? A bee?’

‘It hurt. I looked down at it.’ He shrugged. ‘Then nothing.’ Hurriedly he pulled up his ankle and examined it. ‘Just here. It went through the boot leather.’ There were many old marks and scars. Claudia said, ‘Could it have been some sort of tranquillizer? Like your false insects, Master.’

‘If it was; Jared said slowly, ‘the maker was skilful, and unbothered by Protocol.’ Claudia snorted. ‘The Queen uses Protocol to control others, not herself.’ Jared fingered the collar of his robe. ‘But Finn, you have ridden in the forest many times since you left the Prison. This may not be an old memory. It may not even be a memory at all.’ He paused, seeing the defiance come into the boy’s face.

‘I say this because others may say it. They’ll say you dreamt it.’

‘I know the difference.’ Finn’s voice was angry. He stood up, tying the robe around him. ‘Gildas always said the visions came from Sapphique. But this was memory. It was so . . . sharp. It happened, Jared. I fell. I remember falling.’ His eyes held Claudia’s. ‘Wait for me. I’ll get ready.’ They watched him walk into the wood-panelled dressing-room and slam the door.

Bees hummed peacefully in the honeysuckle outside.

‘Well?’ Claudia whispered.

Jared got up and crossed to the window. He opened the casement wider and sat on the sill, leaning his head back.

After a moment he said, ‘In the Prison, Finn had to survive.

He learnt the power of lies.’

‘You don’t believe him?’

‘I didn’t say that. But he is skilful at telling the stories his listeners want to hear.’ She shook her head. ‘Prince Giles was hunting in the Forest when he fell. What if this is that memory? What if he was drugged then, and taken to wherever they wiped his mind?’ Excited, she jumped up, came over to him. ‘What if it’s all coming back to him?’

‘Then that’s good. But do you remember his story of the Maestra, Claudia? The woman who gave him the Key? We have heard several versions of that. Each time he tells it differently. Who knows which if any is the truth?’ They were silent a moment. Claudia smoothed the silk of her dress, trying not to feel deflated. She knew Jared was right, that at least one of them had to keep a clear head. It was the method he had always taught her, to weigh up arguments, to probe them without favour. But she so wanted Finn to remember, to change, to become suddenly the Giles they needed. She wanted to be sure of him.

‘You don’t resent my scepticism, Claudia?’ Her tutor’s voice was wistful; she looked up, surprised, and saw he was looking at her closely.

‘Of course not!’ Caught by some sadness in his eyes she came over and sat by him, gripping his arm. ‘Are you well, Master? All this worry over Finn...’

‘I am quite well, Claudia.’ She nodded, not wanting to know if he was lying. ‘But I haven’t asked you about the Queen. What did she have to say that was so urgent?’ He looked away, out at the green lawns. ‘She wanted to know how the efforts to open the Portal went. I told her about the feathers.’ He smiled his rare smile. ‘I don’t think it impressed her.’ Claudia said, ‘No.’

‘And I broached the subject of the Academy.’

‘Don’t tell me. She won’t let me go.’ It was his turn to be surprised. ‘Correct. You think it is because of what Medlicote told you? That she plans to disinherit you?’

‘She can try;’ she said fiercely. ‘She’ll have a battle on her hands.’

‘Claudia, there is more. She . . . is happy for me to go.

Alone.’ She opened her eyes wider. ‘To search for the way In? But why? We both know she doesn’t want it found.’ He nodded, gazing down at his thin fingers.

‘It’s some sort of plot. She wants to get you out of Court.’ Claudia bit her nails, thinking hard.’ Out of the way.

Perhaps she knows you won’t find anything, that you’ll be wasting your time. Maybe she already knows where Incarceron is. .

‘Claudia, I have to tell you. . .‘ He looked up and turned but at that moment the tower clock began to strike, and the dressing-room door opened.

Finn ran out. ‘Where’s my sword?’

‘Here.’ Claudia took the foil from the chair and watched him buckle it on. ‘You should have a servant to do that.’

‘I can do it myself.’ She looked at him. His hair had grown longer since his Escape; now it was hastily tied back in a black ribbon. His frockcoat was a rich midnight blue, and though the sleeves were edged with gold it had none of the laced and ruffled extravagance of the other courtiers. He wouldn’t wear powder, or bright colours, or any of the perfumed sashes and stars and plumed hats the Queen had sent him. It was as if he was in rnourning. The austerity reminded her of her father.

He stood there nervously. ‘Well?’

‘You look fine. But you should have more gold lace. We have to show these people. .

‘You look every inch the Prince Jared said, coming and opening the door.

Finn didn’t move. His hand gripped the swordhilt as if it was the only familiar thing there. ‘I don’t know if I can do this,’ he said.

Jared stepped back. ‘Yes you can, Finn.’ He moved closer and his voice was so quiet Claudia barely caught the words. ‘ You will do it for the Maestra’s sake.’ Startled, Finn stared at him. But then the bell rang again, and Claudia slipped her arm firmly in his and led him from the room.

All the corridors of the Court were lined with people. Well-wishers, servants, soldiers, secretaries, they gathered in hallways and peered from doors and galleries to see the Crown Prince of the Realm going to his Proclamation.

Preceded by a guard of thirty men-at—arms, sweating in their shining cuirasses, ceremonial swords upright in their hands, Claudia and Finn walked quickly towards the State Apartments. Flowers were thrown at Finn’s feet, applause rippled from doorways and stairs. But it was muted, and Claudia knew that, and she wanted to frown under the gracious smile she had to keep on her face. Finn wasn’t popular enough. People didn’t know him. Or they thought he was surly and remote. It was all his own fault.

But she smiled and nodded and waved at them, and Finn walked stiffly, bowing here and there at faces he recognized, and she knew Jared was reassuringly behind her, his Sapient coat swirling the dust on the floor. They were escorted through the myriad apartments of the Silver Wing, and the Gold Rooms, and the Turquoise Ballroom, massed with staring crowds, and the Mirrored Salon where the walls of looking-glass made the gathering seem overwhelmingly huge. Under glittering chandeliers they walked, through air that was hot and cloying with perfume and sweat and pomander oils, through whispers and polite cheers and curious scrutiny. Music tinkled from viols and cellos on a high balcony; rose petals were tossed in showers from the ladies-in-waiting. Finn looked up and managed a smile; the pretty women tittered and hid their faces behind fans.

His arm was hot and tense in Claudia’s; she squeezed his wrist in reassurance. And as she did so she realized how little she really knew of him, of the agony of his memory loss, of the life he had lived.