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The figure stares at Perl.

He must believe. Make him believe in you.

“And how do I do that? What does he need to believe?”

But the figure only looks away and returns to his strange writhing.

“Please,” Perl says, “tell me what to do? Am I doing the right things? The Shard said bringing him here was right, but I have put him in such danger. Please. Help me.”

But there is no reply.

“Tell me what to do,” Perl shouts. This cannot be it. He reaches out for the cage, forcing his arm through the white fire. It burns, but he grasps the cage’s bars. It hurts. The white fire and then the fierce magic of the cage. Perl screams. His body goes tense with agony and he drops, wings limp on his back. And he is falling.

He must save himself. He must use his own power and believe. Give yourself to him.

Down and down to inevitably slam into the stone floor of the Ice Hall.

But he does not hit the floor. His fall is broken by something. A mysterious invisible softness, as if he has fallen into a pile of pillows. He looks up. On his back clasping his burnt arm to his chest.

Above him, leaning over, stand Vane and Diamanda.

Vane smiles, “You're welcome.”

Perl sits up. He examines his arm. The black leather of his jerkin is burned away on one sleeve, the pale flesh beneath, glistening and red.

“Family can be so tricky,” Vane says.

Perl gets to his feet. “I was simply…”

He trails off. Unsure how to explain. Diamanda says, “Perl, no matter. You must come back to the parlour.”

Vane smiles, clearly amused by what he’s seen. “Queen Exeinil bid the princess and I fetch you. She wishes to send the torments and, for extra amusement, have us present them. I, the first, Diamanda the second and you, Perl, will go last.”

“Very well,” Perl says. He received nothing of use from his father. He chides himself for ever expecting such. And now it is time for the torments. But if he is to present one of them, at least that will mean he will be allowed inside the ice cell.

“Let me fix that for you, Perlash,” Vane says, waving a hand towards Perl’s injured right arm.

Perl gasps at Vane’s healing magic, surprised by the generosity.

Perl’s skin is soothed and his sleeve repaired in moments, but in addition the suppressor is back on his wrist. He feels the dull sting of it and the strangely disorientating sensation of having his magic held from him.

Perl looks at Vane.

“Prince Vane!” Diamanda says, sounding quite shocked.

Vane only laughs.

Placing a suppressor on another fae is a great transgression. Exeinil placing one on Perl for the purpose of the tests was within the usual protocol of such things. But Exeinil is Queen.

And Vane is still smiling, quite delightedly. “Now, we must make haste. She will not wait.”

He marches from the hall. Perl looks back at the suppressor on his wrist as he turns to follow Diamanda.

They arrive in the Pink Parlour to cries of delight from Exeinil. A page is already handing Vane a fur cloak. The first temptation.

Perl watches with his heart beating hard. Vane smiles at Perl before he walks over to the ice cell, opening its door with his will.

“This should not be the second trial,” he says idly, and partly to himself. “It is too much.”