for staff, ministers, and courtiers. The elaborate and heavily guarded front gates and reception halls were reserved for hon-
ored guests only. Here she slowed down her pace, nervous about seeing her father again. Four years ago, he had sent her
away as if she had been nothing to him; as if she’d been just
a girl from the kitchens, and not his only daughter. She knew she had done something wrong by losing control of her powers
and starting a fire, and she understood expulsion was the only punishment the court would accept for the threat and harm done. But because Emrys never once wrote her while she was
away, never once indicated that she was forgiven, Aelwyn had taken her banishment to heart.
In his letter, Emrys had invited her back to the palace, but
she was still apprehensive about their reunion. When she was
a child, she had sobbed bitterly at their parting; and while she was almost grown-up now, as well as Avalon-trained, think-
ing about him made her feel like that sad little girl once more. She wasn’t that much different, really, from the group of street kids—grubby little urchins with dirty faces—that had just
emerged from the back of a fry shop into the alley. “Want some?” one of them asked with a grin, holding out mushy
peas wrapped in greasy newsprint. She shook her head with a
smile, and he shrugged, turning back to his meal and accidentally bumping her shoulder.
“Oh, excuse me!” she said, dropping her bag. But when
she leaned over to pick it up, it was no longer there.
2
9