Valentina lay awake in bed, unable to delay the moment she both longed for and dreaded. Dawn was already creeping in. In a few hours, the Duke's carriage would pick her up.

  "You're nervous, little Weaver," Vyxara stated softly.

  "A little," Valentina admitted in her thoughts. "What if I'm not ready? What if I make a complete fool of myself at the Duke's court?"

  "You summoned a demon, seduced a professor, robbed Bridgewater University's Distilled Essence storage, won the Greystone Competition and put Bridgewater's most arrogant student in his place," Vyxara reminded her. "The court will be a piece of cake compared to this."

  "You say that so easily," Valentina thought back. She watched a ray of sunlight move across the worn wooden ceiling. "At court, every misstep is noticed. Every wrong move, every wrong word... I'm a farmer's daughter and Innogen isn't there to kick me in the shins under the table when I make mistakes in etiquette."

  "Then it's a good thing you have me to advise you," the demon purred.

  Valentina sighed softly and swung her legs out of bed, quietly so as not to wake her sisters. Adeline mumbled something in her sleep and rolled over. Little Mabel lay still as a stone, only her steady breathing revealed that she was asleep.

  "If you're honest with yourself, you know you've long outgrown Palewood," Vyxara commented. "This visit was a last echo of your childhood. After a few months at court, you'll hardly remember that simple life."

  "That's not true," Valentina contradicted in her thoughts as she quietly got dressed. She had saved the best red dress she owned – a gift from Innogen – for the trip to the Duke. "I will never forget my family. Everything I do, I do for them."

  "Of course, of course," Vyxara said indulgently. "But you'll learn that it's also rewarding to do something for yourself from time to time."

  As she approached the kitchen, she could already hear bustling activity. Her mother was shaping the dough for the breakfast bread, which had fermented overnight and was now ready for baking, while Thomas was playing in his corner with his new knight doll.

  "Sit down, child," said her mother, wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron. "You must have a good breakfast before the long journey. The bread isn't ready yet, but we still have some from yesterday and take some of the bacon, will you?"

  Valentina sat down willingly, took some bread, a little butter and bacon and ate. But not too much. Her stomach was far too queasy.

  "So, the red velvet dress then," her mother remarked with a scrutinizing look. "It must have been expensive. Well, it's suitable for a Duke's court, I suppose. But your hair..." She stepped behind Valentina and began to skillfully braid the long brown strands.

  "That's not necessary, Mother," Valentina protested gently between bites. "I can do it myself-"

  "Let me do it," her mother interrupted her firmly.

  So Valentina sat obediently still and let her mother carry out the familiar movements. Meanwhile, Thomas had crawled to her feet and was playing with his knight there, closer to them.

  "I'm worried," her mother said quietly after a while, while her fingers continued with the braiding. "The Duke... You hear stories."

  "What kind of stories?" asked Valentina, trying to sound indifferent, although she already suspected what her mother wanted to talk about.

  "He's got a lot of bastards, they say. All over Dusktown and the countryside. And we both know how bastards are made." Her fingers paused for a moment. "You are a pretty young woman. And the Duke is known for... well, that he likes to gather young women around him. The reputation of innocent young women isn't worth much there, especially if they're of low birth like us."

  Valentina felt a blush rise to her face. She thought of her first time with Crispin, of Professor Horne, of the sleepless night with Hobkin. Her mother had no idea how far her innocent daughter had already crossed the boundaries of village morality.

  "Innocent?" snorted Vyxara. "Not any more. But don't worry, your mother doesn't have to know everything."

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  "I'm not stupid, Mother," Valentina assured her. "I know how to behave."

  "You say that now," her mother replied. "But the Duke is a powerful man. And you are young and... oh, Valentina, I was your age once too. It feels like it wasn't that long ago. Promise me you'll stay away from him as best as you can."

  Valentina was silent for a moment. She couldn't possibly tell her mother the truth – that she had already crossed boundaries that her mother couldn't even imagine. That she was prepared to go much further to achieve her goals.

  "I promise I'll be smart," she finally said cautiously.

  Her mother didn't seem entirely satisfied with this evasive answer, but she didn't say anything more.

  "There you go." Mabel took a step back and looked at her work. "It looks better now. Not perfect, but..." She broke off and Valentina saw tears shimmering in her mother's eyes.

  "Mother..."

  "It's okay." Mabel hastily wiped her eyes. "I know you have to go. That this is your – our – chance. But..."

  At that moment, Adeline and little Mabel rumbled down the stairs and the conversation was over.

  The kitchen quickly filled with life. Her father came in from his morning chores and soon the whole family was sitting together around the worn wooden table for the last time.

  Just as they were finishing breakfast, they heard the familiar creaking of a horse-cart in the yard. "That must be Roric, he wanted to say goodbye to Valentina," her mother said and hurried to the door. Shortly afterwards, she did indeed enter with Roric in his simple burnt orange ember robe.

  "I'd like to talk to you for a moment, Valentina," he said after the initial greetings. "Alone, if possible."

  They went into the yard together and walked a little way behind the stables along the edge of the pasture.

  "I'm willing to bet that this will be the next sermon," Vyxara scoffed.

  "So you're going to the Duke's court," Roric began cautiously as they wandered between the vegetable patches. "I'm worried about you, sister."

  "Everyone does," Valentina replied with a hint of impatience. "Mother gave me a sermon this morning too. But I'm not a child anymore."

  "No, you're not." Roric stopped and looked at her seriously. "But you and your salvation are dear to me, and the dangers of the court are not childish dangers either. The dangers of the court to your soul are all too... adult. The temptations there are subtle and powerful. Gold, power... lust..." He hesitated. "Believe me, it's not something I like to talk about with my sister, but you need to know. I hinted at it already the other day. The Duke, his friends and confidants are known for their... worldly desires. Cravings to which the Martyr and his church are very hostile."

  "I think you know a lot more about temptations and cravings than he does," Vyxara giggled.

  "I know the stories about the Duke," Valentina said defensively. "To me, the Duke has always behaved as a perfectly polite man of honor. And don't forget – I'm an Essence Weaver. That gives me a certain amount of protection."

  "Essence Weaving..." Roric frowned. "That worries me too. This power corrupts easily, Valentina. I've heard stories of Weavers going too far, seeking knowledge and doing things we humans are not entitled to. So many disasters and so much suffering began with Weavers who wouldn't accept the limits the Martyr has set for us."

  "Look at those worry lines on his forehead. Like an unshaken comforter," Vyxara commented with amusement. "Maybe you should tell him about me?"

  "Now you sound like an old man telling horror stories," Valentina said more sharply than intended. "The Martyr himself was an Essence Weaver. I work hard at the university to master the scholarly art. I know what I'm doing."

  "Do you?" Roric's voice became insistent. "Sometimes when I pray for you, when I plead on your behalf to the Martyr, I feel... something. A shadow. A darkness that shouldn't be there."

  Valentina froze for a moment, but quickly caught herself. "You're imagining things," she said firmly. "You see danger where there is none."

  Before Roric could answer, her mother called after them. "The Duke's carriage has been spotted at the edge of the village! Come quickly!"

  The house was in a frenzy. Little Mabel helped Valentina put her luggage in front of the door, while Adeline kept talking.

  "You have to write me everything," she demanded for the hundredth time. "What the palace looks like, what the people are wearing, everything! You promised!"

  "I will," Valentina promised and hugged her sister tightly. "Take care of yourself. And look after the others."

  Thomas had clung to her leg and was crying quietly. "Don't want you to go," he sobbed. "Stay here!"

  Valentina knelt down and took him in her arms. "I'll be back," she whispered, "I promise. And I'll bring you something nice."

  In the distance, they heard the sound of wheels and horses' hooves. Valentina stepped outside the house with her family.

  The sight of the ducal horse-drawn carriage silenced them all for a moment. It was made of dark, polished wood, with silver fittings and the coat of arms of House Greystone – the crescent moon with ruby red eyes. Four magnificent black horses pulled it, and two guards rode alongside, their grey livery identifying them as the Duke's retainers.

  Half of Palewood seemed to have gathered to watch her leave. Valentina saw Netta, who was feeling better again, standing at the edge of the crowd, one hand on her pregnant belly, the other raised in greeting. Old Ember Godwin nodded gravely at her.

  "It's time," her father said softly, but his own voice sounded strained.

  The goodbyes were short – everything important had already been said. Her mother pressed a small package into her hand. "Dried herbs," she whispered, "just in case," and gave Valentina a penetrating look.

  The driver, a dignified older man, helped her get in and then put her luggage away. As the door closed, Valentina felt the weight of saying goodbye. Even when she had left for Bridgewater a year ago, it had been hard to say goodbye. But now it felt as if a door was closing irrevocably.

  "Don't be sentimental," warned Vyxara.

  The car started to move. Through the small window, Valentina saw her family getting smaller, Thomas still crying bitterly in her mother's arms. She hastily wiped her eyes.