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without waiting for a reply, she swept out, leaving Rhosmari staring blindly into the flames.
    The cottage was dark, darker even than the cloud-veiled sky outside. The servants had left, and Lady Celyn had retired for the night. But Rhosmari paced the floor of her bedroom, unable to sleep.
    Would the council of Elders agree to Lady Celyn’s proposal? Would they really endanger the lives of so many Children of Rhys, just to get back the Stone? To Rhosmari it was unthinkable, but if they believed that there was no other way to restore peace and win back their people’s confidence, they might be willing to take the risk. Lady Celyn was not only eloquent and persuasive, but she was one of the strongest leaders the Green Isles had. If she wanted an army, she would very likely get one.
    But an army was not just a collection of individuals: it was made up of fathers and brothers, mothers and sisters, daughters and sons. Every loss, every death, would leave a terrible emptiness behind. How could Rhosmari face her young students, knowing what was coming to them? Could she really stand by and allow it to happen?
    The thought was intolerable. Somehow, she had to find a way to stop her mother’s scheme. But how? She had no authority or special influence that would make the Elders listen to her. She had no power to hold back an army.
    But she might know someone who did.
    Pulse quickening, she hurried to the window and peered out across the strait at the neighbouring islands. Most of their coves and inlets were lost in shadow, but here and there gleamed a distant star of light. And if she was not mistaken, one of those lights belonged to Lord Gwylan and Lady Arianllys. Determined to act before she lost her nerve, Rhosmari tugged on her shoes, wrapped a shawl about herself, and Leaped.

two
    ‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ said Rhosmari, passing a hand over her rain-beaded hair. ‘But I needed to talk to you and Lord Gwylan right away.’
    ‘My dear, there is no need to apologise,’ said Lady Arianllys, stepping back from the doorway to let Rhosmari in. Her dark hair tangled about her shoulders and her eyes were shadowed with weariness, yet her expression held only concern. ‘I know you would not have come unless it was urgent.’ She drew her dressing gown closer and called back over her shoulder, ‘Gwylan?’
    The door to the adjoining room creaked open, and Garan’s father stepped out. He had a close-trimmed beard and his hair was more wheat than flax, but otherwise he resembled his son so closely that the two of them might have been twins. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
    She had never seen Lord Gwylan look so bleak, not even when Garan left. Something must have gone badly wrong for him today – but there was no time to ask about it now. ‘I have something important to tell you,’ Rhosmari said, and went on to explain why she had come.
    ‘I know my mother means well,’ she finished, ‘but I cannot sit by and see this happen to our people – and if there is any chance at all that you can prevent it—’
    ‘Be at peace, Rhosmari,’ Lady Arianllys told her. ‘We understand your fears, and indeed share them. And yet…’ She glanced at her husband. ‘I fear there is little we can do.’
    ‘But how can that be?’ Rhosmari asked. ‘My mother’s scheme has not been approved yet. Surely Lord Gwylan could talk to the other Elders, and—’
    ‘It is too late for that.’ Gwylan’s voice was heavy. ‘As of today, I am no longer part of the Twelve.’
    The breath stopped in Rhosmari’s throat. She could manage only one hoarse word: ‘Why?’
    ‘Because,’ he replied, ‘in their eyes and the eyes of the people, I am no longer fit to rule. Or as your mother put it, how can I be trusted to govern the Green Isles if I could not govern my own son?’
    Rhosmari took a shaky step backwards and sank into a chair. Lord Gwylan had long been the most moderate voice on the Council, and the only Elder she knew with the courage to