The first thing she became aware of was music – and for one wild moment, she was afraid the pianist had taken the story into his own hands and started holding up carriages. She imagined him as a highwayman in a tri-corner hat, perhaps travelling in the back of a cart so he could be seated at his piano.

She should have realized that thoughts like these were the sign of a hefty concussion.

Anyway, as soon as she could peel open her eyes, she saw that the music was flute music – thin and reedy and joyful. A young man in a straw-hat was standing beside a campfire, piping his pretty notes onto the air.

And he wasn't the only one standing by the fire. There were three women, dressed all in white – the hems of their gowns clinging wetly to their ankles. The one in the centre was dark-haired, with pouting lips and eyebrows so neat they looked as though they'd been pencilled into place. The other two were redheads. It seemed as though they had all just stepped out of a bath, because their hair ran in damp ridges along their scalps and down their backs, giving them a strangely reptilian look.

But there was so much joy on their faces, Ellini couldn't dwell on the reptile associations – or the improper state of their dresses. There wasn't a suspicion of shoes or stockings or corsetry underneath them. They reminded her of the simple chemises worn by Radka and her Vila-companions. In fact, this was so like her story – the flimsy figures dancing and laughing and wringing water out of their hair – that she couldn't believe she had properly woken up yet.

And then she thought about Bianca and Carrie, and how she had longed – in a panicky way – to return their hugs and join in with their gossip, only she was too damaged. There was too much memory. There was too much Jack.

Here, there was none of that. She could join in, because nobody knew she was the sort of girl who didn't do that. Not even Robin was around to raise his eyebrows at her.

The girl in the centre extended her hand towards Ellini, still half-giggling, as though she wanted to do the duties of a courteous hostess, but the music was too distractingly wonderful for her to concentrate.

"You're catching us at a bad time, sister. Gabriel here plays too beautifully, and there's been an awful lot of cider, but you're welcome, all the same. Your carriage overturned by the side of the road. I'm afraid the driver ran off – possibly to get help. Or he might have just taken fright at the sight of us."

She said this quite seriously, as though men took fright at the sight of pretty, scantily-clad women who'd been drinking too much cider all the time.

"I hope you're not hurt," she added, pulling Ellini to her feet.

"The other one wasn't," said one of the redheads. "But he didn't look quite so harmless as you, so we tied him to a chair until we could ask you about him. Is he your chaperone? We don't like chaperones here. It's taken us weeks to escape our own, hasn't it, Gabriel?"

"Yes mistress," said the flutist, between bursts. If Ellini had been concentrating, she would have noticed the way he flinched when they addressed him.

"Can I – can I see the other one?" she stammered.

The brunette shrugged. "He is nice to look at, certainly, but there's no need to rush after him. He's not going anywhere." She pressed a cup of warm cider into Ellini's hand. "Unless he plays music, of course. Men are just scenic when they can't play music."

"Some of them don't even have the decency to be that!" the redhead giggled.

"I think I ought to see him, all the same," said Ellini. "Just to make sure he's not hurt."

"As you wish," said the brunette. She took two steps to the right, still half-dancing to the flute music, and pulled aside an elder branch, heavy with berries. 

And there was Robin, tied to a wicker chair, looking so mild and patient that you never would have believed he'd commanded soldiers or abducted women. In fact, he seemed thoroughly amused by the whole situation, as though he was waiting to see what Ellini would do. She decided he could stay tied to the chair a few minutes longer.

They had obviously been fooled by his expression of sprightly innocence, because they had tied him up very badly. He could have wriggled out of those ropes in his sleep. But he didn't want to wriggle out, did he? He wanted to see how she handled everything.

"Do you play?" asked the brunette, turning to him with a flick of her wet hair.

"No ma'am," said Robin.

She gave another languorous shrug and turned back to Ellini. "No doubt we'll find a use for him. We don't get many handsome men up here."

"He's not so handsome," said Ellini, raising the cider to her lips.

Perhaps she wanted to prove to him that she could be like Radka. She didn't always have to be thinking about the people she'd left behind, or the probable consequences of her actions. She was capable of enjoying herself.

She drank the cider and felt it instantly smooth out the knots in her shoulders, like a lover's caress – although this was not something Ellini knew much about, because only one man's touch had ever calmed her.

"Will you come and swim with us, sister?" said the brunette, catching the empty cup as it tumbled from Ellini's fingers. "There are hot springs in these hills that bubble up from the demon realm. Our mistress says bathing in them will bring us closer to our demon kin-folk."

"Your mistress?" said Ellini. Robin was coughing now, but she paid him no attention.

"Oh," said the brunette, suddenly clapping her hands with enthusiasm. "You must meet her – she knows everything! Simply everything! She was the one who helped us get away from our chaperones. She says there's no reason why new-breed women should be bound by social proprieties, since the whole world thinks we're harlots anyway."

"Sounds very sensible," said Ellini, raising her voice to drown out Robin's coughing.

They helped Ellini out of her clothes without waiting for her consent – and she was dimly amazed that she didn't object. Still, it was the least invasive undressing she'd ever had. All three of the women were giggling and disinterested as they removed her petticoats and unlaced her corset, although they did admire the fabric and croon over the embroidery, just like the housemaids at Lambeth Palace Road.

Normally, she would have been worried about undressing in front of two men, but this was another un-Radka-like concern, so she tried to squash it as soon as it occurred to her. Besides, Robin had seen it all before, and Gabriel was looking doggedly down at the grass, his face perhaps a little redder than all the puffing and cider could account for. Ellini felt a brief fluttering of warmth towards him, because it was an action that reminded her of John Danvers.

The women stopped when they got to the scar on her chest.

"What's this, sister?"

"Oh." Ellini waved a dismissive hand. "Ancient history."

"Did it hurt?"

"I suppose so. I can't remember much about it now."

The lake was really only an arrow-shaped fissure between two hills, deep enough for the girls to stand submerged up to their shoulders, but not very broad. Still, it looked clear and inviting under its plumes of steam, so Ellini waded in after them.

As she sank into the water, she almost felt herself dissolve. The heat was as lovely and insidious as the Chopin music she'd heard that evening, winding its way into her nerves, loosening her muscles. She could feel silt and pebbles between her toes but, for some reason, they seemed soft and invigorating rather than slimy and sharp.

The three women seemed to be used to it, because they didn't shudder with pleasure like her. In fact, they went straight back to their games, as if there had been no overturned carriage, and no mysterious stranger to tie up.

The major game seemed to be splashing each other, or diving under the water to unobtrusively poke your companion in the ribs.

Much as she wanted to join in, Ellini didn't think she could pretend to be that carefree and thoughtless, so she tried talking to them instead.

"You said you didn't get many handsome men up here," she said, trying to get out of range of the splashing. "Do you get many of the other kind?"

"All the time!" said the tallest redhead. "They've heard down in the village that we swim naked, so there's always someone creeping up here to spy on us."

"And do you tie them all to chairs until you've ascertained whether or not they can play music?"

The brunette waved a hand. "With some of them, it's immediately obvious. They couldn't look like bigger oafs if they tried!"

"But they don't have to miss out on the fun on account of that," said the tall redhead. "We let them have the other pool."

She motioned to the left, where the lake narrowed to a sharp point and became rock again. Beyond that, Ellini could just make out the moon-gilded waters of another pool. She swam up to it, expecting for some reason to see a pool full of men tied to their chairs, splashing each other as best they could with their arms and legs strapped down. 

When she saw nothing but the glint of bone a few inches under the water, she was not quite as perturbed as she thought she ought to be.

Of course, that was what the Vila did to any men they caught spying on their games. They dragged them into the dark water and held them fast until they drowned. And this night was so much like a folktale, why should she be surprised?

She glanced at Robin, who raised his eyebrows languidly, as though to say, 'What are you going to do about it?' He then looked pointedly at the hawthorns behind her, where some half-hearted little fires were beginning to kindle in the upper branches.

Ellini blinked at them, realizing that they must have been hers. She was getting better at controlling the fires kindled by her hair. She had been practising – unbeknownst to Robin – in their apartments at Lambeth Palace Road, setting fire to wastepaper baskets and singeing the curtains. Her hair didn't actually have to be touching the thing she wanted to set fire to now, although it helped – for some reason – if she unpinned it and let it hang loose down her back.

Still, sometimes she set fire to things without thinking about it – if she was annoyed or excited – and it looked as though this had happened with the hawthorns beside the stream. But the fires were so paltry, she couldn't have been very annoyed in the first place – and it was just as likely to be Robin's unhelpful attitude as the piles of bone that had sparked the reaction.

That wasn't right, was it? she thought, blinking again. A whole pool full of skeletons should really be more annoying than Robin raising his eyebrows. But she was feeling so muddled, and he was looking so innocent, as though this was all a test and he couldn't wait to see how she tackled it.

And perhaps she might have done something if he hadn't raised his eyebrows at her like that. But, right now, he – and his entire sex – were being too insufferable to be aided, so she waved a hand, as languorous as his eyebrows, and the fires in the branches hissed out.

Robin laughed. He was actually enjoying this! Ellini submerged herself in the water before her hair could set fire to anything else.

The three women didn't swim up to her to see how she was taking the news that they were mass-murderers. They continued to splash and scythe about in the water, their arms like silver-fins in the moonlight.

They genuinely didn't understand why she would be upset, Ellini realized. Why shouldn't men be disposed of once they'd outlived their usefulness? They'd only been spying in the bushes, hoping to see some young women take their clothes off. How was the world impoverished for the loss of men like that? They were so childlike and straight-forward, these women. It was difficult to disagree with them, let alone hate them.

Ellini was silent for a moment, and then murmured, "I hope, at least, that Gabriel won't end up down there."

At hearing his name mentioned – and for the first time that night – Gabriel played the wrong note. The brunette shot him a warning look, but, as with every other expression of hers, this soon turned into a giggle. "Don't worry," she said. "He's far too talented. We'd much rather keep him to play for us every night."

Gabriel seemed to take a little heart from this, because he lowered the flute from his mouth for the first time since Ellini had seen him.

"If you don't mind, mistress, I'd as soon play for you every other night. My Maria will be wondering where I've got to. And in any case, I'll be much better if I go home and practise sometimes."

The three women giggled so hard they nearly choked. It was the kind of raucous, excitable flutter you'd hear from a startled flock of birds.

"Your Maria? Have you a sweetheart, Gabriel?"

"Yes, m'm," said Gabriel, his face reddening even more.

"Are you going to marry her?"

"Yes, m'm" said Gabriel, causing more hilarity.

"But how do you know it's true love?" asked the brunette.

Ellini, who had been watching this scene like an amused parent, suddenly felt the water turn cold.

"Well, how can anyone know?" said Gabriel, with a shrug. "Time will tell, I suppose."

"There's a very easy way to know, Gabriel," said the brunette. "Mistress Myrrha taught us. It's a very simple test. Doesn't hurt any more than pricking your finger."

Gabriel's eyes flicked briefly behind them, to where the fires were re-kindling in the hawthorns.

"Um-"

"-and so much better to know now, before you take your vows to this woman," said the brunette, oblivious to the growing heat at her back. "If you pass the test, it'll be a wonderful story to tell your grandchildren, and if you don't – well, you'll know to keep looking for your true love."

The brunette broke off at a couple of yelps from her companions. The steam had been steadily increasing over the past few seconds, and was now rolling in billows between them, cutting them off from each other. The water had started bubbling, as though rapidly approaching boiling point.

Ellini was standing in the middle of this foment – up to her shoulders in the bubbling water, wreathed in steam, and outlined starkly against the inferno at her back.

They didn't understand, of course, but they knew just enough to run away from her. Or perhaps it was the increasing heat of the water. Either way, they screamed and hauled themselves onto the bank. Ellini followed them, dripping and glaring and incoherent with rage.

"That's enough," she said. "Don't – how could you? – that's enough!"

They were looking at her with wide-eyed incomprehension, and she realized they hadn't meant any more harm than they'd meant when they'd kidnapped Gabriel for the joy of hearing him play, or tied up the old men who'd been watching them getting undressed. It was all a game to them.

And she couldn't explain. But what would they understand anyway, even if she could?

So she punched them.

It was wonderful. It gave her a jolt of adrenaline which cut through the warm haze of cider like a knife. And she could imagine she was punching other people – people more intimately connected with her fury – like Myrrha and Jack and Robin, who would no doubt be grinning insufferably at this moment.

She broke the brunette's nose, and the two redheads were laid out with a couple of the head-kicks she loved so much. At this, Gabriel groaned and slid sideways into the heather, apparently unconscious with shock.

It was only when she went to help him that she realized she was completely naked, and that she hated him too for even starting to listen to these women. He should have stuck his fingers in his ears the moment they opened their mouths!

She left him where he was and turned to Robin – who was, contrary to all expectations, not grinning. His mouth was open, and it was a while before he seemed able to speak.

"You know, I wish we were still on speaking terms with Jack. It would drive him insane to know I'd seen this."

"You've seen it before," she said contemptuously.

"This? No. I don't think I've seen anything like this before."

Ellini raised her head, trying her best to look haughty. Her anger was cooling now – and, with it, the fires and the steam that had kindled from her rage. She could suddenly feel the night breeze across her belly. But she refused to cover herself up, because then Robin would know she was vulnerable, and vulnerability was not something you showed in front of Robin. Better he saw her breasts than saw her shiver.

"You could have told me they were Myrrha's," she said.

"I told you there were three Wylies outside Warwick, on the coach road to Northaven. When you saw three ethereal maidens who seemed to have laid an ambush for our coach, I thought you'd put two and two together."

He licked his lips and went on, as though he was afraid of the silence. "They put something in the cider, if that makes you feel any better. Plus, you have a nasty bump on your head from when the carriage overturned. You did very well on half your wits."

Ellini, who was familiar with Robin's dubious compliments, didn't answer this. Besides, she knew he wasn't finished.

"Although obviously, I have notes. Just one note, in fact. Can you guess what it is?"

"The cider," she said sulkily.

"The cider. I've noticed that you seem to accept any drink given to you, regardless of the source, on the basis that your willpower will overcome intoxication. That might work well against alcohol – although I'm sceptical – but it wouldn't be much good against, say, chloroform. Chemistry trumps willpower every time."

"Thank you. I'll remember that."

He was still looking unusually hesitant. By this point, the regular Robin would be bouncing around and taking command of the situation – riffling through pockets, telling her who to tie up, and how much rope to use. He hadn't even bothered to wriggle out of his own bindings.

"I hadn't realized how much I'd been upsetting you," he said quietly.

"Really? I find that very difficult to believe."

"If they hadn't driven you insane by alluding to that love test, I honestly think you would have let them drown me in the other pool."

Ellini shut her eyes. It had been quite a graphic demonstration of her priorities, hadn't it? Dozens of men in Robin's position hadn't moved her to anger, but one man in Jack's and she had gone crazy, boiled a lake, and set fire to the countryside. No wonder Robin wasn't laughing anymore.

There was silence for a moment, and then he added, with a hint of his old-fashioned cruelty. "Do you still think you can be Radka?"

"Obviously not," she said, looking longingly at her pile of clothes.

"So when are you going back to the baby?"

Ellini's shoulders sagged a little – another thing she could have done without him seeing – but she didn't reply, so he licked his lips and went on.

"If you want my advice, we should go to Oxford after we've taken care of the Wylie in Northaven, but before we've faced Myrrha in Edinburgh. I'm not sure I'm going to survive that last bit, and I'd really like to see Jack's face before I die."

Ellini stared at him. She had so many problems with this plan that it felt as though they were all rising up in her throat like the doctored cider. It was probably the concussion that caused her to start by finding fault with his pronouns.

"We?"

For the first time since she had sprung naked out of the water, Robin smiled. "Oh, you want to have this conversation now, after avoiding it so carefully for months? Yes, Ellie, we. I killed your family. That makes me your family."

"You just want to torture Jack!" she protested.

"Well, that too, obviously. But I don't think you should discount the first reason. If it was valid when I was a knife-wielding maniac, it's twice as valid now."