‘Fine,’ said the Raccoon, sounding put out by the refusal of their hospitality. ‘We’ll open the maze for you. You’ll want to go right. Right is always right. Except when left is right, naturally.’

‘Do you remember the way, Hatta?’ asked the Owl.

Hatta tipped his hat to her. ‘Like the way to my own hat shop, Tillie.’

Tillie cocked her head – like a real owl with her humongous eyes. ‘Your hat shop,’ she said, quite plainly, ‘is on wheels.’

‘Don’t get lost, Hatta,’ warned Lacie the Fox.

‘Don’t lose yourself, Hatta,’ added Elsie from behind her Raccoon mask.

‘Or anyone else,’ added Tillie with a secretive laugh. ‘Shall we draw you a map of the maze before you go?’

Hatta shook his head. ‘I know the way.’

The girls nodded and spoke again in unison. ‘Farewell, then. So long. Good eve. Murderer. Martyr. Monarch. Mad.’

Cath shut her eyes, her skin writhing. She wanted to get away from them. She was suddenly as desperate to get away as she’d been to get here in the first place. She found Jest’s hand and squeezed and was grateful when he squeezed back.

Then she heard the chirrup of three jingling joker’s bells. She opened her eyes in surprise, but the girls and the bells were gone. The glen fell silent. Not a breath, not a breeze.

The wall that had held the girls’ drawings was gone too, opened wide to reveal the entrance to a hedge maze, with walls that towered three times Cath’s height.

Hatta let out a weary sigh. ‘Thank you, loves,’ he said, sounding truly grateful, as though he doubted each time if they would let him through or torment him forever. He approached the entrance to the maze without half as much bounce in his step as before. As he passed by Catherine, she heard him muttering beneath his breath, ‘Though if I go mad, we’ll all know who’s to blame for it.’

Cath wanted to smile, but her nerves were still frazzled. She followed behind Hatta and, thinking it would not do to be impolite, she whispered to the empty glen, ‘Thank you very much.’

Only once she had stepped past the first wall did a ghostly whisper, three girlish, ghoulish voices, brush across her earlobe.

‘You are welcome,’ they said, ‘Your Majesty.’

CHAPTER 44

THE MAZE WALLS WERE MADE of entwined dead branches and tight-packed laurel leaves and the occasional bare spot of ancient stone wall. Catherine felt a sense of helplessness the moment they’d stepped through the entrance and peered down the first endless stretch. The maze continued in each direction as far as she could see, fading in a swirl of fog in the distance. The path itself was padded in a white-flowering ground cover that was soft and damp with dew.

‘Well,’ said Jest, clearing his throat – the first sound to break the miserable silence that had engulfed them in the Sisters’ absence. ‘That was not exactly like the first time you brought us to meet the Sisters.’

‘No? I’ve passed through so many times they all start to feel the same.’ Hatta smirked and started undoing the buttons of his coat. ‘What was their price before?’

‘Raven gave them a recitation of a classic Chessian poem,’ said Jest, ‘and I gave them a lemon seed.’

Cath startled, thinking of the lemon tree that had grown over her bed.

Mistaking her surprise, Jest gave her a nonchalant grin. ‘I’d had some lemon in my tea that day – the seed was stuck in my tooth. I’d been working at it all afternoon, but the moment they asked, it popped right out. I was glad to be rid of it.’

Cath was still mulling over the lemon seed and the dream, wondering whether it could be a coincidence, when she felt the heavy wool being draped over her shoulders. She looked down, her free hand grabbing the lapel. The coat was impeccable, not a speck of lint on it.

She turned to face Hatta. ‘What is this for?’

‘It is a long, damp walk, Lady Pinkerton. I do not wish for you to catch a cold.’ Hatta turned away and started walking down the maze’s first wildflower-dotted path.

‘Thank you,’ Cath said, somewhat uncertainly, as she and Jest hurried after him. She slipped her arms into the sleeves. The lining was silken and warm and smelt of herbal tea.

‘Yes, that’s kind of you, Hatta,’ added Jest, who had no coat to offer her himself.

Hatta waved a hand at them without looking back. ‘I wish she’d taken a hat before we left the shop. How I find myself in the company of such an unadorned cranium, gallivanting about mazes and wells, is ever the mystery.’

The corners of her lips twitched.

Jest offered his elbow and she took it gladly, the warmth of Hatta’s coat and Jest’s company driving back the chill the Sisters had given her.

They had not gone far when shadows began to close in around them, reminding her that it was still night-time, despite the golden light of the meadow. Jest removed his hat – its new silence disconcerting – and found an oil lantern inside, already lit. It shed a welcome circle of light on to the maze walls and flickered in Raven’s black eyes.

‘Did they draw such horrible pictures when you came across the first time?’ Cath asked as they traipsed after Hatta.

‘They drew, yes, but I didn’t think much of the drawings at the time.’ Jest pondered for a moment, one finger trailing over Cath’s knuckles. ‘Do you remember what they were, Raven?’

Perched on his far shoulder, Raven ducked his head to peer at Catherine around Jest’s profile. ‘A merry-go-round was cast in ink, a monster sketched on stone, and a messenger who would go mad for mistakes he must atone.’