‘My dear Ilsevellian,’ said Anthelaena, concern underlying the playful mirth of her words. ‘Who, pray, is Phineas? A boy! Is he handsome? I should like to meet him.’
‘He is my friend,’ said Ilsevel, and had not time for more, for she had gathered up her skirts and set off at a run. He was nowhere in the banquet-hall, and he was not outside; he was not among the maze of corridors, nor had he lingered in the throne-room. He could not be found in the kitchens or out in the courtyard or, in short, anywhere at all. He was gone.
‘Are you looking for Mr. Drake?’ came Wodebean’s voice from somewhere near at hand.
Ilsevel whirled, and found him concealed, as ever, in a shadowy corner. ‘For Phin— yes, for Mr. Drake. Have you seen him?’
He had found her in the courtyard, pacing restlessly back an
