Much later, the Weavers and travellers sat together in a circle around the grate, eating stew and drinking a boiling herb leaf brew. Claire wished they could get on their way, but the Enchantment Weavers had replenished their dwindled supplies with full drinking skins and bags of apples, dried meat and hard biscuit and it was dark by the time everything had been loaded into sacks to be hauled up the steep mountain path to where they’d left the cart. As Jemroth had pointed out to an impatient Claire, there was no point setting off in a snowstorm in the dead of night. They’d kill the horses for one thing. So she’d sat back in the thick woollen rugs and skins and tried to ignore the restless jitters that urged her forward.

At least the stew was tasty and warm. As she put the wooden spoon to her lips to catch the last dregs, Lyssa caught her eye. “You said you know which spell you need to close the Rift.” There was a brightness to her expression that undermined her too casual tone.

Claire swallowed her mouthful of vegetables hastily. “I’d guessed before I had my vision that we needed to do the same thing Kelt did but in reverse. He shot hot and cold flames simultaneously into the sky.” She paused. “I wasn’t sure about where the other magical Houses fitted in, but I’ve had time to think on the road, and my feeling is that any spell of theirs will do as long as its next to mine and aimed into the heart of the Rift, because that’s what happened the first time. Renegades from various Houses all stood beside Kelt.”

“No,” Lyssa said. “That’s not what happened.” Her eyes darted to the floor as the other Enchantment Weavers expressions darkened.

“What do you mean?” Claire cast her memory back to lessons with Lord Dorran. “How would you know? Granddad said you weren’t involved.”

“He never knew the truth,” Lyssa said. “Kelt was an unusual man—and my friend.” Lyssa got up and strode over to her pile of neatly folded tapestries, crouching to carefully sort through the heap until she pulled one out with a nod. She returned to the group, sitting next to Claire. “The Houses stayed away from us, but Kelt did not.” She glanced at Gareth with a sad smile. “He was as hungry for knowledge as Marianne was. He knew he’d never rule House Dorran and wanted to find something else worthwhile to do, and so was a wonderful student.”

“By the salamanders, are you saying you taught Kelt how to be an Enchantment Weaver?” Claire asked, shock making her voice quaver. She could tell from Jemroth and Gareth’s wide eyes that this was news to them too.

“I made a dreadful mistake,” Lyssa admitted. “I’ve told none but my own people. The shame was too great. Now it’s time to break my silence.” She took a deep breath. “I taught Kelt how to unite his learth with that of the other Houses and it is that action which made the Rift. Yes, he used his own spell, but he did it whilst drawing upon the strength of those around him, a skill I taught.”

“But how can you know if you weren’t there?”

“One of the men Kelt drew power from, one of his close companions, was untangled by Lord Dorran and taken back to his Manor to recover. He pretended he had no memory of how the Rift had formed, unable to admit his complicity in its creation and afraid that the curious would try to repeat the spell. Two months later, he rode to tell me of what had happened, knowing Kelt had learnt how to steer others magic from the Enchantment Weavers.” She bowed her head, as though the weight of her story crushed her. “Kelt had assured him they’d win the battle without dangerous consequences. This man, Banna, wanted me to promise I wouldn’t teach the skill to anyone else. I did so gladly.”

“What do you mean by uniting learth?” Claire asked, her brain struggling with having so much new information to slot into place. It seemed everyone had played a part in Kelt’s creation of the Rift – and that everyone felt responsible in their own way.

Lyssa unfurled the tapestry, then smoothed it out in front of her. Jemroth, Gareth and Lotte lent forward at the same time as Claire reached out to touch the bright colours.

“But it doesn’t look like much of anything,” Gareth said.

Claire had been about to say the same thing. The messy riot at her feet reminded her of modern art exhibitions. She traced her fingers against four separate lines of colour. One was bright red, another the blue green of the sea, yet another silver, and the last a rich brown, the colour of loam. As the lines continued, they wove into a complicated braid. “What does it depict?” she asked.

“The four Houses converging,” Lyssa said. “They are woven of the same cloth and will return to the same when true peace spreads throughout the land. Kelt made me believe he had faith in this union, that he’d work hard for it. That is why I taught him how to combine with others in what we call a mind-mesh.”

“I think I learnt the technique once. At least, I learnt how to connect with a Dream Mage’s mind to get back to Shale?”

“Yes, it’s the same skill. You see, we Enchantment Weavers and Dream Mages are tarred with the same brush. We’re part of the same magical family, just as you and the other Houses are part of one community. Thanks to them, you are already halfway there.”

Claire nodded, remembering Gwenivere telling her what felt like an eternity ago about anam, the magic of the soul. From what Lyssa was saying, anam was common to both Dream Mage and Enchantment Weaver.

She remembered Gwenivere’s sharp rebuke, Maen’s too, as she’d tried to draw on Rinn’s magic to augment her own. “But I was told never to combine learth with someone not of my own House.”

“Because of Kelt. The whole point of the learth dance as I taught it was to work together in joy and harmony, not with the rage he displayed that fateful day. Though some were willing companions in his mind-mesh, many more were dragged against their will.” She bowed her head. “People like Lord Maellwyn’s first wife.”

Claire sat back on her heels. “You’re saying that if I’m to have any hope of closing the Rift, you must teach me how to perform a mind-mesh, aren’t you?” Her throat closed over and the air in the shed suddenly tasted stale.

“Not just you,” Lyssa said. “If your vision is accurate and a representative from all four Houses is needed, then Lord Gareth, Jemroth and your brother will need to do so too.”

Claire tried not to think about how carried away she’d been when Gwenivere, Rinn and Maen had tried to teach her similar. She’d enjoyed the feeling of power too much.

Gareth got to his feet, face blanched, no doubt thinking of Kelt. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“That’s the wrong question,” Claire said, pulling him back down beside her, even as her stomach sank. “The right one is can we afford not to learn. I suggest we have an early night and spend the next day or so practising. It won’t take more than that, will it?”

Lyssa bowed her head. “I understand that you can’t tarry long.”

***

“You kind of need to picture your learth flowing through you without actually producing anything, so for example, I’m not looking to start a fire. You aren’t trying to make water or rip up earth,” Claire struggled to explain to a frustrated Gareth and Jemroth a day later as they stood near the grate in the Enchantment Weaver’s home, the looms and spindles cleared away so the small party could practise their magic. Lotte stood with the other Enchantment Weavers, who silently watched proceedings with their backs to the wall. “Do the breathing exercises and picture learth escaping and when you open your eyes you should see the world differently.” They’d been practising all morning, but so far, she was the only one able to get to the state you needed to connect with anyone else and there’d been a lot of cursing in the gnomes and the Mer-peoples name.

“Why don’t we try with you first, Lady Claire? You’ll be leading the mind-mesh spell anyway,” Lyssa said, stepping forward to join the little circle.

Claire’s stomach clenched. She’d known this moment would come, but she’d been delaying, telling herself it was more important to get Gareth and Jemroth up to speed.

Lotte smiled at her weakly. “It’ll be fine.” She moved to stand next to her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks,” Claire muttered. The exile had been unflaggingly cheerful, assisting Enchantment Weavers to carry supplies up the hill to the cart, petting the horses knowing Claire and Jemroth didn’t have the chance to do so, and now was offering moral support from the sidelines. Claire was grateful as she closed her eyes.

Lyssa’s voice came from her right. “Hold the image of those you seek to connect with in your thoughts and let the learth flow through you, but don’t use it.”

Claire gritted her teeth and did as Lyssa asked. She counted her breaths in and out until she reached ten. With each whoosh of air, Claire pictured learth escaping from her body in a steady stream. Thick mist stroking her skin and the familiar click in her ears told her she’d succeeded. Though her eyes were shut, she could see the shed in shades of bland grey, people marked out by colours rather than shapes.

“That’s it,” Lyssa whispered. “Connect with Gareth first.”

Within seconds of picturing Gareth, Claire’s mind hit against something hard with a painful clunk. Some kind of wall, maybe? It was silver-blue and rippled like sunlight dappling against reflective surfaces. Was this what Maellwyn learth looked like?

Out of nowhere, images of droplets, mist and waves crashing against a rocky beach spun past, faster and faster, until she felt sure she’d drown, her own flickering red learth mingling with the sparkling blue ocean.

-Stop. You’re hurting me- Gareth’s voice sounded in her mind.

Frantically, Claire tried to disentangle herself, but she didn’t know how. The more she panicked and struggled, the more the ocean rose up and threatened to drown her.

-STOP- he roared.

With a hideous ripping noise, Claire fell away.

“You aren’t concentrating,” Lyssa’s voce came from a long way off. “I told you to hover next to him, not dive through his defences.”

“Sorry,” Claire said aloud. “I didn’t hear you.”

She steadied her breathing. This time it took mere seconds to see her rope of red light extending into the air. Gareth’s warm eyes filled her mind and before she could stop herself, she was disorientated, falling through a stream of blue and silver.

She saw a young boy crying for his mother as he imagined a beautiful woman with long dark hair standing beside him. She saw the same boy again, slightly older, standing barefoot in ocean waves as dolphins circled his feet. She saw him a few years older again, periwinkle eyes and rough brown hair, his lips on a mermaid’s.

-Get out!- Something tugged at the learth stream she’d created. Her spirit-self fell through an endless stream of colour. She couldn’t stop the spiral. What was up and what was down? All blurred in the sickening tumble.

Marcus sat by Claire at the dam. He tossed a stone into the clay-coloured water.

“Why is our family so weird?” he asked, frowning at Claire.

“Don’t know.”

“Don’t you ever wish we could be normal and... well... popular?”

She placed a hand on Marcus’s shoulder as he shook his head in irritation.

“Hey. We’ve still got each other,” she said.

Marcus smiled. “That’s true. And we’ll never stop believing in each other too.”

Her stomach hooked as the memory shattered into splinters of painful light.

She was fourteen, behind the school toilets as boys and girls called out, mouths twisting in mockery.

“What’s with your family, Claire?”

“Yeah, my mum says yours is a mad bitch.”

“I hear your dad’s a leftie toe-rag. No wonder you don’t have money.”

She cried and cried and cried.

-I’m sorry- Gareth’s voice broke across the memory. -I’m so, so sorry-

She opened her eyes to clutch her head, rocking against the hard floor on her knees. Heat spread across her cheeks. She couldn’t look up lest she catch Gareth’s eye. He’d seen so much, and things that she’d have much rather stayed buried. It had been a long time since she’d thought about her first year of school, before she’d understood her family was different and friends were for other people.

“In the Gofannon’s name, what happened?” Jemroth barked, no doubt dreading his own turn at the mind-mesh.

“We both lost control,” Claire admitted, as a headache lanced across her temples.

Lyssa stood behind her, gently putting her hands on Claire’s shoulders. “I had to separate you. Claire, next time, take a second to admire Lord Gareth’s colours, hesitate before you dive into the mesh. You can’t rush these things.”

Claire nodded, begged for strength from the Saura, closed her eyes and tried again. This time, there was no sudden slam of contact. Bright shades of red soon twisted together in a tight braid and she concentrated on staying separate from Gareth’s own cord twisting in the air. Sweat dripped down her face as she struggled not to get too close. Once she was confident she wasn’t going to crash into Gareth’s learth, she hovered closer and closer until at last their two cords connected with a gentle click. They were separate yet together at the same time.

-Praise the Nereus, I think this is working- Gareth crowed. -And it’s beautiful. Look up-

As soon as he suggested it, their cord floated above the people hovering against the wall and the brazier and they sailed together through the roof. Their combined gaze took in a wide sky. Still higher they floated into a swathe of colour and light, the stars rising to meet them.

-What are you two doing? - Lyssa asked, but she was amused rather than upset. -Back to earth to join the chain with Jemroth, please -

For a few seconds, Claire flailed this way and that, but as soon as she thought of Lord Maellwyn’s advisor, she flew back to solid ground, seeing Jemroth’s golden brown and green cord waiting below. She imagined herself as a straight cord braided through with Gareth and Jemroth’s colours. With a sudden click, she felt herself align with both.

Their combined power sung through her blood. In that moment, she knew no one could stop her; not Eidan, not the Beast, nobody. Finally, she was convinced that together they could win this thing.