Eleanon reached out and caught at Ravenna’s elbow. “My dear,” he said.

She tried, and failed, to pull away from him. “Leave me be.”

“No. You fascinate me.” As indeed she did, although Eleanon was aware that currently his fascination was due more to the effects of the alcohol than anything else.

They were just outside the camp, and Eleanon led Ravenna further into the night, putting distance between them and the Lealfast Nation.

“What do you want?” she said.

“To talk. To investigate a little more deeply this curse Ishbel has cast on you. If I know how it works, then I understand Ishbel a little better.”

What he wanted, of course, was to alter it slightly, turn it to his own use.

“I want to go.”

“Nonetheless you keep trailing about Elcho Falling, drawn to it like a moth to the fire. Or is it Maximilian you lust for? He has gone now, I believe. I have heard that he and his lovely, lovely wife have been up to some mischief at DarkGlass Mountain.”

Eleanon turned Ravenna so that she faced him, and took both her shoulders in his hands. “You yearn for Elcho Falling, yet your curse keeps you distant from everyone. How is the baby, Ravenna?”

She blinked, confused by the sudden change of subject and made anxious by the pressure of his hands on her shoulders.

“I . . . I am not sure,” she said. “I suppose he is well enough.”

“Not sure? Truly? This is your child, the heir to Elcho Falling! And you are not sure?”

“Ishbel made it that he is no longer heir to —”

“Ah, but this is still Maximilian’s child, yes? Of course. Then this baby still has some connection to him and his pretty citadel. Besides, what can be wound can also be unwound. It is, after all, what Ishbel specialises in.”

“You can unwind this curse?”

“That is not what I said . . . but, well, who knows.” Eleanon pulled Ravenna closer despite her reluctance, pressing her body against his and running his hands over her shoulders and down her back.

“It is so strange to feel a woman with no wings,” he murmured. “How can you bear it?”

She struggled. “Let me go.”

“Stay.” Eleanon was pressing her more tightly against him now.

“I don’t want to .”

“What? What don’t you want?” He tried to kiss her, but Ravenna twisted her face out of the way.

“Don’t do this to me.”

“Are you not glad that I can stay this close to you? That I can touch you? That I can subvert Ishbel’s curse to this extent?” “I am glad — now leave me alone.”

Eleanon hated the arrogance in her voice. Ravenna’s haughty contempt, particularly given her current circumstances, could well outdo even the self-importance of the hated Icarii.

It made him want to hurt her, just a little bit.

And he knew precisely how to do it.

“You could be useful to me, Ravenna.”

“Leave me —”

Eleanon grabbed her face with a hand, twisting his fingers in cruelly deep, then kissed her as hard as he could. There was no passion or comfort or even much arousal in his kiss — it was meant purely to humiliate.

“You do not respond,” he said when he finally raised his mouth. “Am I not as good as the Lord of Elcho Falling?”

“Get away from me!” she hissed, and Eleanon smiled. There was fear in her voice now, stronger than her arrogance.

“I mean to investigate this curse of Ishbel’s,” he said, “as closely as I might.”

And twist it to what I want.

Ravenna was fighting back, but Eleanon still held her easily. He lifted a leg and kneed her violently in her groin, bringing her struggles to an abrupt halt as she bent double, gasping for breath, both arms now wrapped protectively about her pregnant abdomen.

He hit her again, this time using his fist to punch her in the side of her head.

Ravenna fell to the ground, moaning, half senseless, and Eleanon knelt beside her. He bent over, running his hands up and down her body, feeling her both physically and with his power, scrying out the twists and turns of Ishbel’s curse.

It was powerful. Eleanon felt it as dark bands of some gruesome material . . . blood, it was blood! . . . that wrapped about her body like a cocoon. He could slip his hands between them here and there, finding Ravenna’s vulnerable flesh, but he could not unwrap them.

No matter. He could isolate them.

“You are very lovely,” he murmured, now using a knee to prise her legs apart, “even with this cumbersome belly of yours.”

Ravenna cried out, struggling weakly, but it was of no use against Eleanon’s strength. He penetrated her body and mind, using spiteful fingers of power to probe deep into her thoughts as he also moved his body inside hers, leaving long agonising trails of hurt wherever he went.

Ravenna screamed, then again, and then yet again, unable to bear the pain.

Eleanon smiled. He enjoyed her agony and was glad it was necessary in order to freeze a little bit of Ishbel’s curse into uselessness.

“You think Ishbel your enemy,” he said, finally rising from her body, “but she is nothing compared to the enemy I will become if you do not do as I command.”

He stood, adjusting his clothing and looking at Ravenna as she wrapped herself about her belly, sobbing.

“I have frozen the part of Ishbel’s curse that isolated you from others,” Eleanon said conversationally. “People will still feel uncomfortable about you and wish to move away from you, but you will be able to stay in their presence. The other aspects of her curse — your isolation from the Land of Dreams and the disinheritance of your son — remain in place.”

Eleanon paused. “Don’t wander too far away, Ravenna. Sooner or later I am going to be needing you. Who knows, you may get the chance to see your true love once again. Maybe he’ll reconsider this time.”