The sun was chilly and the land black, dry and hard, not a single farmer, house or crop in sight. No birds, no insects, no wild animals either. Claire recognised the barren oddness of the landscape from her original summons to Kelnarium. After three days of steady travel, they’d reached the borders of the Riftlands. The army draped themselves in thick coats and furs, stamping their boots against the cold. If Claire was any judge, overnight there’d be frost. Red spots formed in cheeks and people rubbed their hands and blew on them. Claire shivered against four layers, a head covering and her scarf as well as a blanket over her knees.

The novelty of the road had worn off. Claire’s muscles ached from stiffness and she was tired of the emptiness stretching out forever and of the endless chores to be completed as soon as Eidan called a halt. As she steered her horses, Claire cursed Eidan, her grandfather, Marcus, even her parents for getting her into this mess. Why her? But then, deep down she knew she wasn’t serious. Who’d want to live a normal life mired in school lessons? She might die trying to save Kelnarium, but she’d have learnt learth, tried some cool spells, even met wondrous salamanders and other magical creatures. And she’d met Lotte, who despite the suspicion of the others, genuinely seemed to still want Claire as a friend. All of that counted for something.

She glanced at the sky; primary colours blending with cloud letting her know they were almost at the Rift. She traced the shadows it generated and squinted at one in the distance. An enormous shadowy human figure stood at the horizon, and though Claire couldn’t be sure from that distance, the outline looked remarkably like someone she knew. As though sensing her attention, the shadow darted away, shrouded in mist. Perhaps Claire was over-tired and had imagined the Crian’s silhouette. Even as she stared, the Saura appeared overhead, its great tail curling and uncurling as it raised its webbed foot in greeting. Claire wondered if the Dorran fire elemental had scared the Crian off. It blinked in silence and vanished.

Turning her thoughts back to her main task, she thought of Marcus again. She’d avoided him, figuring he could find her if he wanted to chat. She wished he wasn’t so stubborn. Although each night, she and Lotte had sat cramped next to each other and whispered about what to do, they hadn’t been able to think of a better plan beyond stealing a horse and riding away. If Claire couldn’t think of something by tomorrow morning, she’d have to set off.

Tears prickled. Damn Marcus. Why couldn’t she do this without him? She remembered the way the Beast had looked at the Maellwyns secret place when she’d seen who she needed to help her defeat it once and for all; there’d been fear and despair in its eyes and something else too, an odd furtiveness she’d never questioned.

Claire sat up, jerking the reins so hard the horses almost clattered to a halt. “Sorry pals,” she whispered, a slow smile creeping at her growing excitement. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? The Beast didn’t want her to close the Rift because it died with it. Gwenivere and she had discussed the nightmares it sent might be a double-edged sword. Even if they contained elements of truth, they were designed to unsettle Claire. Why couldn’t the vision she’d been sent when she was performing magic have been the same? She barely noticed the baggage train slowing to set up camp, members of the army wheeling back to give directives.

The secret place was the first time Claire had tried Kelt’s spell with others. What if the Beast had come in a panic because she was closer to cracking the puzzle of how to close the Rift and in its panic, it’d shown her the solution unwittingly? The pair had a connection to each other that couldn’t be easily severed. When it had realised what it had done, it had misdirected her with Marcus, knowing how much she idolised him. If she was right, she didn’t need Marcus at all. Anyone from House Ushanan would do.

She slumped in defeat. It was a wonderful theory, but there wasn’t anyone else left with air learth. She was grasping at straws.

Lotte rapped at the barrier between Claire and the rest of the cart. “Are ya going to stop, or d’ya want us to slam into the next person?”

Claire’s eyes widened. With a sharp cluck and tight tug, she brought their cart to a halt, heart beating hard at how close she’d come to causing an accident and injuring the precious horses. She dismounted and undid the harnesses, joining in with the hustle and bustle of setting up for the evening, her mind circling back to her theory as she pushed through mundane chores. If only Lord Maellwyn had picked up a stray Ushanan like he’d done with Jemroth and House Domain, but Claire hadn’t met a single person who had a drop of their blood beyond herself and her brother.

As she handed out stale biscuit and strips of dried salted meat to waiting soldiers, Lotte joined her. “I wish they’d stop treatin’ me as though I’m rotting fish,” she sighed.

“Ignore them,” Claire said through clenched teeth, knowing Lotte referred to Gareth and Jemroth.

A captain waved them over and told them to help distribute skins of water and hand out cups of beer to the men. “They deserve it,” he said. “We’ll face the enemy tomorrow.”

As Claire and Lotte set off in the direction of the supplies, Lotte muttered under her breath, so Claire had to lean in to hear. “I hate this. I can’t even leave. I’ve no money, no home, no family. Yer all I got. Mebbe me family was cursed.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Me mam lost everything too,” Lotte said. “All her brothers and sisters, cousins and friends killed.”

Claire stopped, suddenly realising she’d heard something significant, something that had been in front of her all along. “What’d you say?” She reached forward to clutch Lotte’s arm, ignoring her surprised “Ouch.”

“They was all killed somewhere west of here.”

“Listen, Lotte. This is important. You said your Mum stumbled into your camp and that’s how she met your father. She never revealed her real identity, right?”

“Nope,” Lotte shrugged. “She wouldn’t talk about it, but Da thought she’d escaped from a bad bonding or somethin’ ’coz one morning, a week after he took her in, he caught her flinging a ring in the river. Real silver with a turquoise stone he said. He told me when I was young not to poke and pry. He said Ma were scarred by what happened and she wanted to leave it behind, that rich men ain’t always the best bond mates. Hey, where’re ya going?”

But Claire was already running through the camp to find the others, thoughts whizzing like popcorn. Was it possible Lotte’s mother had flung away a ring just like the one Claire wore hidden around her own neck, making her not just a member of House Ushanan, but the heir to its Lord? Perhaps she’d been caught up in Kelt’s spell and, traumatised by what she’d seen and done, run away once she’d been freed of his control, wanting nothing more than to leave that life behind. Claire could understand a desire to never touch magic again after an event like that and it would explain her desire to throw the ring away too, a symbol of her past vanished forever.

And then she remembered something else, triggered perhaps by her unexpected sighting of the Crian earlier; Lotte explaining that the Melinor and their queen had helped her from childhood, as she had also helped her mother. Perhaps the Melinor were the magical brethren affiliated with Ushanan House, just as Dorran House had salamanders, Maellwyn House had its Mer people and Domain House its gnomes. She was sure she had enough evidence to demonstrate Lotte’s mother had been the last surviving magical member of House Ushanan and that made Lotte …

Claire began to sprint.

***

Only when Jemroth and Gareth were inside their halted cart away from listening ears would Claire ask the questions that clamoured to spill out. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” she admitted, flinging blankets at the pair and wrapping one around herself. Gareth stared at her expectantly while Jemroth played with a loose woollen thread on his coat. “What can you tell me of the Crian and her Melinor?” she asked.

“The Crian?” Jemroth barked. He put a hand over his mouth and forced himself to take a breath, then repeated his question again, softer.

“So, you know of her?” Claire said.

“Know of her?” Gareth repeated, a strained note in his voice. “Everyone at Maellwyn Manor has learnt of that foul spirit and her kind. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about her from your grandfather. She’s no friend of Dorran House either.”

Claire suppressed a shiver. The Crian had never come up in history classes, but she’d also never asked Maen anything further, albeit at Lotte’s request. Her friend had explained she’d overheard Rael bad-mouthing the Crian and was afraid of how the Dorran’s would treat her if they knew she spoke with the creature. “Tell me about her, and the Melinor,” she said firmly.

“Why?” Gareth demanded.

She closed her eyes for a moment, offering up a silent apology to Lotte. The time for secrecy was over. “When I ran away from Grandfather, and found Lotte in the exile camp, the Crian appeared. She warned me there was danger at the Manor and whisked me and Lotte there, leaving us outside. I didn’t ask Maen about her because we were escaping from certain death at Eidan’s hands.” She fixed Gareth with a stern glare. “So why do Maellwyn House and Dorran House hate the Melinor?”

Gareth’s mouth opened and closed like a floundering fish. Finally, he pressed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut. To Claire’s surprise tears appeared at the corner of his eyes.

Claire laid a hand gently on his back. “I’m sorry for asking a painful question, but I wouldn’t press you like this unless it was important.”

Gareth wiped away his tears. He swallowed and opened his eyes. “I told you my father’s first wife died at the battle that created the Rift, alongside many other Maellwyns, including my aunt and uncle.”

“Yes, I remember,” Claire said encouragingly. Her uncle and a host of Dorrans had died too.

“Perhaps Lord Dorran and my father could have stopped Kelt and his monstrous working if they’d made it to the battlefield in time.”

“Sure, but how was the Crian involved?”

“I’m getting to that,” he said, unable to meet her eyes. “You know how each House has its own magical creatures?”

“Yes,” Claire said. She hugged herself under her blanket, certain her theory was about to be proved correct.

“Well, House Ushanan’s creatures were the Melinor spirits, ruled over by their queen, known as the Crian. Historically, the magical creatures stay out of politics and decision-making. Whatever their House says and does, they support, only we thought with Selk and the certain bloodshed coming the Crian would change her mind.” He looked up. “My father and your grandfather begged her for help to make it to House Ushanan and the battlefield to stop Kelt doing what they knew he was planning. She could have whisked them where they needed to go, as she did for you. She refused.”

“Why?” Claire was amazed. If the Crian could have prevented Kelt from making his spell, Claire might never have needed to come to Kelnarium.

“Because House Ushanan, like House Domain, didn’t sign Selk’s treaty, preferring war to capitulation. We were ranged to stop it and she knew it. She would not betray her House for us, no matter how hard we begged her, even though it meant their downfall. The rest, as you know, is history. Our Houses were too late to stop the spell.” He frowned. “We knew she and her kind hid themselves in the Silent Vale after the Rift was formed. No one has seen hide nor hair of her since. Until you.”

Claire sensed the truth in Gareth’s story. Why else had the Crian, an elemental leader who, like the rest of the elementals, was only meant to speak with her own kind’s Lord or Lady, spoken to her? Had it been because of the Crian’s guilt over her role in the Rift’s creation? She remembered Gareth saying at Maellwyn Manor that the special object of House Ushanan was quartz and shivered as Lotte’s mum’s necklace swam before her, complete with feathers, beads and crystal. Why had Lotte’s mother insisted her daughter always keep the necklace on her person? What if the House Ushanan necklace was the rusting silver chain and quartz and the exiled style beads and feathers had been used to disguise that fact? It all added up. “How do you test someone for learth?”

He stared at her uncomprehending as Jemroth’s eyes widened.

“Why did the Crian help you?” Gareth asked at last.

“Because she saw I had the mark of another world about me and I told her about Gwenivere’s second prophecy. I believe that like Lyssa, she wanted to make amends for her part in the Rift’s formation,” she said. “Now, please, answer me; how do I test someone for learth?”

Gareth stared at her, then shook his head wearily, like the force of her personality was too much for him. “Hold your hand out, palm parallel to the person your testings face, get into the meditative state as though you’re going to join magic with someone else and when you open your eyes, you’ll see an aura about them.”

“Like with Maen or with you and Jemroth?” she asked eagerly. “The different colours, I mean?”

“Yes, like that—”

But Claire was already on her feet, snatching a heel of bread and dried meat ready to re-join Lotte.

Fifteen minutes later, she found her friend wending her way back through the camp.

“Yer making me dizzy with how often ya appear and disappear,” Lotte said, though she didn’t sound too annoyed.

Claire angled her head towards a patch of tents near the horses tethered for the night. Arm in arm, the pair reached the quieter spot Claire had indicated, barely anyone about but for a knot of servants huddled together for warmth. Now that they were almost on top of the Rift, the army stayed tight knit.

“What’s all this about?” Lotte demanded.

“I never told anyone about the Crian, just like I promised you,” Claire whispered, dragging Lotte to sit beside her, in the shadow of a bulky tent. “Until tonight.”

“What? Why’d ya blab?” Lotte said, startled.

“Shh, keep your voice down,” Claire said, looking around furtively, but no one even glanced their way.

Lotte relaxed, seeming to reconsider what Claire had done. “I ’spose now they know I’m an exile it don’t matter.”

“I told them because of what you said earlier, about your mother.”

“What about her?” Lotte shrugged.

“I think she was of a magical House called Ushanan. The House of Air.” Claire gripped Lotte’s arm excitedly. “If I’m right, we can use you instead of Marcus to close the Rift.”

Lotte laughed scornfully. “Now yer reaching. I can’t be magical. I’m an exile, remember?”

“If your mum was caught up in Kelt’s spell, and she was the only House Ushanan survivor, it would explain why she never mentioned her past. Besides, I’ve been thinking about the Crian. You see, each House has its own magical creature that’s kind of like their emblem. House Ushanan’s are the Melinor spirits. Gareth just confirmed it.” She rushed on at Lotte’s sceptical expression. “And that’s not all. Learth users possessed objects to signify their House.” She pulled her tunic aside to show Lotte her salamander egg pendant. “This is mine. Jemroth’s is his bronze disc and Gareth’s is his vial of seawater. You’re not meant to take them off because they connect us with our elementals and our magic. House Ushanan’s was quartz crystal, and there are some of them on your mum’s necklace. It can’t all be a coincidence and she was insistent you keep it. Then there’s the turquoise ring your dad mentioned. Each House ruler had a special ring. My grandfather’s was an opal ring, for example. All this points to one thing: I think your mum was the daughter of House Ushanan’s Lord.”

“It’s too much to hope for,” Lotte said, clasping her hands together. “If I do have magical ability like ya, Gareth and Jemroth’ll have to trust me.” She looked towards the horizon. “I always did wonder why the Crian and her kind helped me but vanished at the merest presence of another exile.” Her face fell. “But why didn’t she help me mam much?”

Claire thought hard. “Perhaps because your mum wanted to sever all ties with her past. But we don’t need to keep fruitlessly conjecturing. There’s a way I can check who you really are. Maen tested my magical strength when I first arrived in Kelnarium. Gareth told me how to do it. Will you let me test you?”

Lotte laughed. “Are ya crazy? ’Course you can. What do I do?”

“You don’t have to do anything except wait. I’m going to close my eyes and draw on learth. If anyone notices us, give me a good shake and I’ll come back.

Claire sat on her heels, silently asking the Saura to grant her courage. She was hoping the spell was such a small one the Beast wouldn’t appear, but she couldn’t guarantee it. She started the process, emptying her mind of anything but the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Soon, she felt ready to open her eyes. The world was tinged with a whitish fog. She could barely make out the tents and the soldiers were rimmed with shadow. Between them, pale phantoms walked about. Her own learth was a vibrant crimson in the darkness.

She fixed her attention ahead of her. Amongst the surrounding dullness, Lotte glowed, tinged with bright silver and pure white. As Claire stretched her hand out, it felt like an electrical charge whipped through her body and her blood sang, like calling to like.

She’d only half believed her own theory, scared to hope too hard after so many disappointments and setbacks, but her vision wasn’t lying. Lotte had magical ability, and a lot of it too if Claire was any judge.

As she rushed back to share the wonderful news, she made the mistake of looking up. The sky’s strange colours hadn’t dulled. Instead, the terrifying vibrancy of the Rift’s shifting reds, blues, greens and yellows physically hurt, its beauty a thousand times stronger because she saw the world through learth.

Even as she watched, familiar tendrils reached towards her, the Beast’s loud laugh so crippling it felt like a thousand blows to the head; only this time she heard hysteria and fear beneath the cackles. Lotte was key to everything and the creature knew it.